Now? I don’t know what it means.

“Growing,” she finishes lamely.

Growing, right. I was done growing three years ago. But I numbly accept her fussing and rise to follow her into the kitchen. She chatters about work as she warms me a bowl of gourmet butternut squash and free-range-chicken bisque. I suppose it’s her version of comfort food. I spoon the rich, golden soup into my mouth, but it’s bland gruel on my tongue. I can’t bring myself to touch the buttered sourdough bread on a little glass plate beside my bowl, even though it looks great. My stomach feels hollow, and I’m not sure how I’m managing to feel such an empty hunger and complete lack of appetite at the same time.

I glance up and Reese is scrutinizing me. I hear some kind of sports game playing on the plasma in the adjoining room and wish Jay would come in. Disrupt this strange playacting with Reese. We’re both dancing our routine of deception, and neither of us wants the other to find out. So we dance. We laugh. We smile.

Not that it would be any more real with Jay, I remember, and the soup I’ve just eaten turns sour in my stomach.

Does he know?

His words from yesterday echo in my mind: I tell Reese everything. But does Reese return the favor?

I’ll have to hide from both of them. I hate the thought.

“Tavia,” Reese says quietly, “do you remember the business trip I told you about?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, developing a sudden interest in my bowl.

“I was hoping to leave tomorrow,” she says hesitantly, and I’m gripping the spoon so hard my fingertips are white. “But if you need me to stay—”

“No,” I blurt, too loudly, panic jolting through me.

“I can,” she rushes to assure me, but I hear a desperation in her voice and know it’s the last thing she wants to do.

“No,” I repeat, calmer. “I won’t forget to eat, I promise. I just … I was reading at the library and lost track of time, that’s all.” And it’s kind of true; I absolutely lost track of time.

And space.

And sanity.

She opens her mouth to speak, as if to correct herself and let me know what her actual concern is. But she changes her mind and only nods. “It’s an important trip,” she says. “It’ll take a couple of days max.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, and my throat freezes up as I wait for the answer.

She hesitates, then says, “Phoenix. Client there who I need to see personally.”

I confess to being rather shocked that she told me the truth. Kind of the truth.

What’s really in Phoenix? Something that affects me or she wouldn’t have brought it up when she was on the phone with Elizabeth.

I don’t know anyone in Phoenix. But …

“I’ll be fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “And Jay will be here.”

Reese’s eyes turn to the half circle of a head she and I can just see over the top of the couch and her eyes soften. I don’t know exactly what roles they’re playing, but I can read in her eyes that she actually loves Jay. Somehow, that makes me feel better. Two people who love each other couldn’t mean me harm. Not really.

I convince myself it’s a good argument even though I know it’s completely crazy.

Not crazy.

Just irrational.

“Please go,” I say, startling Reese’s attention back to me. She doesn’t look quite convinced and I pull out my final ammunition. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” I lower my eyelids as I speak. It used to be the truth—and it embarrassed me as fully as I’m feigning now. I’ve always thought myself an inconvenience to them.

I’m not. I’m some kind of project, which is worse. But tonight I’ll make it work in my favor.

Reese nods and her warm fingers cover mine the way they often have in the last eight months.

All those times in the hospital.

It makes me want to throw up.

“Okay, I’ll go.” She pauses and I know there’s more.

I wad up my linen napkin and toss it onto the table beside me. “What?”

“Dr. Stanley wants to see you tomorrow.”

My mouth dries up and I blurt, “Why?” before I can stop myself.

“She called this afternoon and told me she wants to follow up with what you talked about today.” I can tell Reese is trying to pick her words carefully. Not to let me know that she knows everything I talked to Elizabeth about today.

I look down at my bowl, trying to get a grip on my anger. I know the truth; they don’t trust me to behave—or maybe survive—while Reese is gone. They want to babysit me.

Maybe I need it.

“Whenever you want. She’ll make time for you.”

“But—”

“It can be fast—she just wants to touch base.”

I say nothing.

And nothing.

Until finally Reese has to ask. “Will you go, Tave?”

I still. There’s something in her question. A wisp of emotion; I’ve heard it before. It screams to me that she cares. Really cares.

But I don’t dare believe it.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “I don’t have anything else to do.” We may as well both lie.

I plead a headache and dutifully swallow the two white pills Reese places in my palm. She says they’re Tylenol and I see the little words stamped into the tablets, but part of my mind wonders what else they could be.

Paranoia.