Page 33 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

I gripped the doorway so tightly that I could hear the cheap wood starting to splinter.I won’t say it. I’ll stay strong. I’ll wear this smile if it kills me.

“Is that the coworker who picks up every free shift she can get, or the one who always forgets to fill the napkin dispenser?”

My smile was starting to crack around the edges, but Bella was too surprised by my question to notice.

“How do you know about my work friends?” she demanded.

I slid my free hand behind my back and crossed my fingers. I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never lie to Bella, but life had a way of crushing the best of intentions. “Oh, you know. Your father must have mentioned them.”

“She’s the napkin one,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Does that mean I can go? I like going to her house. She’s the oldest of four, so there’s always a lot to do there. It’s not so…empty.”

As soon as that word—empty—touched her lips, we both knew the answer to her question. But only one of us realized the cost.

“Of course you can go, honey. If it’s what you really want.”

“Yes!” She pulled out the other earpod and started texting excitedly on her phone. With only half her attention on me, she asked, “What do I need to go do to this guy first? Just say hi?”

To be honest, my heart wasn’t really in the game anymore. I still wanted to know what that man had to do with Arthur, but Bella had sucked all the fun out of it. For a second there, I’d thought it might be something we could do together, one of those unlikely bonding experiences that other moms and daughters seemed to share.

But Bella was already zipping up her overnight bag, grabbing a phone cord and her toothbrush—her two primary signs of life inside this house.

“You don’t have to do anything.” I handed her a twenty and some bus fare from my purse. I knew from long experience that she wouldn’t accept a ride to her friend’s house. She wouldn’t want anyone catching a glimpse of me in the car. “Will I see you tomorrow, or do you plan to go straight to your dad’s afterward?”

“I’ll just go straight home,” she said as she brushed a distracted kiss on my cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t notice my wince or the way my whole body recoiled at that word.

Home, with her rock star father and new stepmom.

Home, the place where she felt most comfortable.

Home, anywhere but with me.

“Thanks, Maisey!” she called as she ducked out the door and dashed down the street toward the bus stop. “You’re the best. See you next month!”

I watched her go with a smile and a wave, both of which stayed in place long after she disappeared from view. Anyone looking out the window at me would think I’d lost it, but no one ever looked out the window at me, so it was okay.

Only this time, it turned out Iwasbeing watched. No sooner did I blink than I spotted him: the guy in the car, the watchful stranger, the man who’d turned away every delicious treat I’d offered him. He glanced away as soon as he realized I’d noticed him noticing me, but it was too late. Before I even knew what I was doing, I crossed the lawn to where he’d parked—and without a single baked good in hand, which proved how upset I was.

“Did you enjoy the show?” I demanded, placing my hand on top of the window so he couldn’t roll it up. He also couldn’t speed off without dragging me down the street, so he had no choice but to face me. “Have you seen enough, or did you want me to call her back so we can do it all over again? I should warn you—she won’t come. Not for a million dollars. Not if I was the last person on the planet.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know what you want.” He tried the window button, but it was no match for me. “I don’t want anything to eat, I’m not here for a friendly chat, and Idefinitelywasn’t watching your daughter run away from you like a bat out of hell.”

That last one was the final straw. Sliding my hand over the top of the glass, I popped the lock and yanked the door open.

“Hey! You can’t just climb in here—”

“Go ahead and call the cops,” I said as I plopped myself in the passenger seat and planted myself as deep as I could go. “I’m sure they’d beveryinterested in how many hours you’ve spent stalking a helpless, dying old man.”

“He’sdying?”

The guy turned to me then, his face drained of all color, the fight slipping right on out with it. That’s when I noticed the resemblance.

I wasn’t sure which part of him reminded me of Arthur McLachlan. In fact, I wasn’t sure that any specific part of him was the same. His nose was too big and too crooked, as if he’d been in a bar fight or two in his time. His eyes were a dark, glittering brown instead of gray, his jaw squarer, his build more like a linebacker than an academic.

But the resemblance was there all the same.

“No…no. Of course he’s not dying.” I reached over and gripped his hand, surprised at how chilly his skin was, as if his blood had literally run cold. “I only said that to get a reaction out of you.”

“Jesus, lady. It worked.” He yanked his hand back, leaving that icy impression of stone behind. He didn’t, as I feared, immediately kick me out of the car. With a sideways glance at Arthur’s house, he asked, “He’s okay, though? Not…sick?”