Page 89 of The Ripple Effect

I can do that, too. I can give Lyle what he wants. Give the Love Boat a chance without knowing whether I’ll get anything back. I could care enough to love something and know I might lose it. Be brave enough to get hurt and know I’ll heal. I won’t be the same as I was before, and that’s okay. Maybe that’s good, even.

You need something, Liz told me barely three weeks ago. Or maybe it was a lifetime ago.

And I need this.

“Deal.”

Chapter Twenty-six

On the morning of the podcast, Sloane and I arrive at Liz’s house bearing snacks.

This morning, Lyle got up extra early, kissed my temple, and was out of the condo before I was more than half awake. If I hadn’t had plans with Liz, there’s a good chance I would’ve followed him to camp, because I’m getting very weirded out by the way he’s been acting lately.

At night, when we fall into his huge, soft bed, he says he’s quiet because he’s tired from working all day at camp, plus he’s nervous about the interview with Renee.

But I know his body. It’s in the way his arms come around me a fraction slower than usual, and the way he tucks his face into the crook of my neck after sex, leaving it there for a hundred measured breaths that hitch at the top.

Liz’s door swings open to reveal my friend in her favorite onesie pajamas, which look substantially different given her new postpartum boobs and a light crust of spit-up.

“Hi. You probably don’t feel like hugging when I smelllike—oh, yes you do, never mind.” She seems quieter than usual. Not as happy to see me.

Suddenly I wonder why she didn’t ask me to come over yesterday or the day before. Was it really because she had a pediatrician appointment and family visiting? Or is this the first phase of us growing apart? My stomach cramps with renewed anxiety.

“Missed you, babe. We brought doughnuts. I hope you don’t mind that Sloane came with; it’s her last day in town.”

Liz’s eyes track over my shoulder to Sloane, who looks like the movie star she soon will be in her high-necked, sleeveless black sweater with oversize white Fair Isle patterns, flowing black pants, and black platform sandals that put her a cool foot above me in height. Her softly perfect hair and glowing skin look like she beamed up to the alien mother ship to get re-cloned.

Liz looks back at me, her chin rising fractionally. “Sloane? You two are… hanging out?” She knows who Sloane is; we know everything about each other. And I’m sure Tobin told her my sister was coming to camp this week. But I didn’t tell her Sloane and I have grown close.

“You two would probably rather catch up without me,” Sloane says diplomatically, flashing a movie-star smile. “I could use a double espresso, actually. There were those two places on Main Street—Magic Beans and Jack and the Bean Shop. Which would you recommend?”

Liz sighs, brushing at a stain on her pajamas. “You may as well stay. I’ve already made it awkward, and nothing cures awkward once it’s loose in the world. Come in.”

Sloane gives a bark of laughter; Liz closes her mouth and winces. “I’m sorry. I haven’t really slept since the baby. Myfilter is pretty damaged, and let’s be real, it wasn’t that strong to begin with. I’m Liz.”

“Sloane. And don’t worry about it. It’s wonderful to meet the person Stellar calls her sister.”

Liz smiles at that, finally. God, Sloane. I love her for always being the better person, but will I ever be able to repay her at this rate?

Liz waves us into the house, laying a finger across her lips. Rainbow-hued toys lie haphazardly across her precisely placed neutral-toned furniture. On one cream-colored wall, a painting hangs crookedly above a large splatter of something that’s dried to a sticky sheen. A baby swing resembling a sci-fi transporter pod sits next to the couch, right where an exhausted parent could deposit the baby while desperately trying to nap themselves.

“Where’s Tobin?” I whisper.

“Emergency run to the pharmacy. We’re out of…” She blinks tiredly. “I forget, but we don’t have any.”

The sound of a fussy infant echoes down the stairs. Liz wilts visibly.

Sloane perks up. “Are you letting people hold her yet?”

Liz wipes her sticky bangs from her forehead. “She refuses to be put down and I’ve had maximum forty-five minutes of sleep in a row for the last two weeks. I’d let Stalin hold her if he washed his hands first.”

Sloane cackles in delight and swans off to the kitchen to scrub up. I install Liz on the couch under the pretext of wanting to sit down myself. It’s the only useful thing I can do.

“I wish I could help.” I shrug my injured arm. “You know. Change a diaper or two. Be the kind of friend you actually need right now.”

“Stellar.” Liz nails me with her signature direct gaze. “Youhave like thirty stitches. Instead of fixating on acts of service, you might consider telling your so-called best friend about the important things in your life while they’re actually happening.”

I think I actually stop breathing for a second. “Liz, I—”

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