Page 235 of Mad Girl

My dad said it, too. “Jesus Christ. This is ridiculous—all of it.”

“What? That I might want to spice things up with Willoughby? Or that I might want to explore alternative ways to have a little fun by myself? There’s this one toy⁠—”

“Jesus. Oh my God. Stop.” Nic covered his face with both hands. “Please stop talking.”

You weren’t doing too well, either. Glasses dangling from your hand. Huge grimace. Eyes squeezed shut.

You and Nic were so uncomfortable, and I loved it. I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

Nic yanked both hands from his face, glaring at me. “Oh, is this funny to you? You poured my scotch down the drain, I’m getting charged for scheduled therapy sessions you refuse to attend, you ordered all that stuff to fuck with me, and you walk around here giving me the silent treatment. Why? What have I done to you? What did I do?”

“You’re a liar,” I said.

“What did I lie about?”

“Everything. I can’t trust you to be honest with me—ever—about anything.”

“Listen,” Nic said, tossing out a hand, his voice cautious, “I lied about talking to your mom because I didn’t want to hurt you. We’ve been through this. I thought you understood.”

“That woman on the street—I saw you outside talking to her.”

“Forget about the woman, Elliot. She’s gone.”

“You obviously know each other. The way you got in each other’s faces? Your body language? She isn’t the person you said she was.”

“She’s someone off the opponent’s team. I’ve met her before. I told her to stay away after the first time you saw her, but she came back. I threatened to take legal action if she didn’t stop watching our house.”

“Oh, yeah?” I narrowed my gaze at him. “What’s her name?”

“Wren,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “Her name’s Wren.”

Wren didn’t seem like the type of name he could pull off the top of his head that quickly.

“See,” I said, “I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can. Tell me, Nic. How would the Harrises react if they learned how many secrets you’ve been keeping from them?”

“Not well,” he admitted. “They’d be angry with me.”

“Would they break up with you?”

He pulled back. “Break up with me?”

“End your friendship.”

“I hope not. I like to think I’d be able to explain.”

“Would you beg them to forgive you?”

He nodded. “Probably. If they weren’t willing to. Yes.”

“Do you love them?”

“John and Libby? Of course I do. They’re family.”

“Do you love them more than you loved my mom?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“You didn’t beg her to stay.”