Chapter 7: The Shoebox

I read Hazel's texts four times at dawn, with Declan's shirt on and my bare feet on the cold kitchen tile.

"Arizona," Declan said, reading over my shoulder. "He's in Arizona."

"Or someone with his name is."

"Do you believe it?"

"I don't know." I put the phone down. "I need to see it. I need to stop being told."

Tierney's text came at nine.

Dinner Tuesday at my place? Just us and a couple of friends. Let me celebrate you both! xo

I showed it to Declan.

"Say yes," I said.

"Miriam."

"If I'm going to look at what she keeps, I need her busy for ten minutes. Make her laugh. Make her feel like she won."

His jaw went hard.

"You want me to flirt with her."

"I want you to pay," I said. "Part of this is you paying. Is that a problem?"

He looked at me for a while.

"No," he said. "That's fair."

Tuesday night Tierney opened her door in a green dress and kissed us both on the cheek.

Her apartment was small and warm and full of framed pictures of the two of us.

Me at twenty, in a plastic tiara.

Both of us at my grandmother's funeral.

Me in a hospital bed after my appendix, with Tierney beside me holding my hand.

I had always thought those photographs were love.

Two other couples were already at her table, a coworker and her husband, and a neighbor with his wife.

They said the right things about the wedding.

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