Page 46 of Tear Me Apart

“I heard a noise, realized you weren’t in bed. It’s freezing in here. Seriously, what are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d tend my email. It’s gotten out of control.”

She stands, surreptitiously pulling the power cord out of the laptop. “But I’m done. I was wasting time surfing. I’m finally tired.” She yawns for effect. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m sorry about tonight, too. About everything. I don’t want to fight. I know you’re right. We have to tell her.”

She goes to him, presses her cheek against his chest, her arms sliding around his waist as if they’ve been born for that purpose alone.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she says, allowing her voice to go husky, and he doesn’t resist, just switches off the light and starts down the hall, his arm solid around her shoulders. They are a few steps away when she says, “Oh, crap, I forgot to plug in my laptop. I’ll be right there. Start without me.”

He stiffens but nods, letting himself be lied to. Is this how things will be between them, lies and mistruths and sneaking around? She hopes not. She wants to put this whole story to bed once and for all.

She fumbles with the cord long enough to open the lid of the computer, log in one-handed, close the private browser and reopen it in her normal mode. On the surface, it will do, and tomorrow she’ll go in and purge the history, make sure everything has been deleted.

Jasper is waiting for her, eyes cool in the darkness. She slides into the bed and shimmies off her clothes, nestles against him, toying with the waistband of his boxers. Says a small prayer as she kisses him.

So many secrets. So many lies.

Let them be enough.

25

DENVER, COLORADO

Juliet knows she should leave things well enough alone, but that isn’t who she is. She can’t just sit back and wait to see what Lauren cooks up, as much as she promised she would. She stares at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, the minutes and hours ticking off, thinking,Why? Why in the world would she lie about this?

Finally, recognizing sleep is going to be elusive, she goes to the kitchen and makes a cup of tea. As the water heats, she wonders again—what is Lauren hiding? The whole story rings of half-truths. Juliet knows her sister well enough to recognize when she’s lying. She is terrible at it, always has been.

But a lie of omission, that is different than an outright falsehood, right?

As far as Juliet can tell, Lauren has never given anyone any reason to doubt Mindy is hers, but she certainly never claimed it. She’s allowed everyone to assume, and there was no reason to question her about it. Is that truly lying?

Juliet thinks back to her sister’s pregnancy. The only time she saw Lauren between the divorce and Mindy’s birth was at her baby shower.

There was an ultrasound on the refrigerator, Juliet remembers that. She tries to remember the women who’d attended, their names, faces, and comes up blank. Truthfully, she hadn’t paid much attention. Juliet was a teenager at the time, involved in her own world.

It wasn’t until after Kathleen passed away that Juliet got back into their lives on a more regular basis, so yes, Juliet can understand why Lauren hasn’t confided in her. They weren’t close then, and they certainly aren’t close now.

But something is wrong with all of this, and as much as Juliet wants to walk away, she can’t.

The tea is ready. She sits at her desk, blowing on the edge of the cup to cool the scalding liquid. She touches the mouse and her iMac is up in an instant. She starts with the easy part—looking up doctors who practiced obstetrics at the hospital where Mindy was born. She gives a range of eighteen to sixteen years ago, just in case, and gets a list of names that is workable, only ten. Not surprisingly, seven were men, so they are eliminated immediately. That leaves her with three doctors, only one of whom’s name is remotely Hispanic.

Dr. Soledad Castillo. Educated at the Colorado School of Mines for undergrad, medical school at the University of Colorado, did her postdoc specialization in obstetrics and gynecology, worked at Swedish Medical from 1998–2000 as a staff OB/GYN instead of going into private practice. Which helps make sense of the situation Lauren explained—if Castillo worked the emergency room and was in the general physician pool, she would come across all sorts of people who might want a shortcut.

In other words, jackpot.

She checks her watch, surprised to find it’s already 8:00 a.m. Why not? A little fishing expidition won’t hurt. She dials the hospital.

“Hello, Swedish Medical Center. I’m Jasmina, your red stripe volunteer today. How many I direct your call?”

“Could you transfer me to Dr. Castillo? She should be in obstetrics.”

The woman on the other end of the line hums a little tune while she looks.

“I’m sorry, dear, there’s no Castillo in obstetrics.”

“Perhaps she’s left the hospital. Can you forward me to HR?”

“Certainly, dear. I don’t know if anyone’s in this early, but you can leave a message if they don’t answer. Have a blessed day.” There is a long beep, then an elevator version of a Britney Spears tune with a sweeping clarinet solo. Just as Juliet begins to worry she’s contracted an earworm, another voice comes on, this one harried.