Page 54 of The Temptation of Truth
She purses her lips and taps her chin with her index finger as she scans my face. I narrow my eyes.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I’m considering my options.” She laughs, light and melodic, then drops her attention back to the trail. “What was your guardian’s name?”
The smile falls from my face before I can stop it, and my brows shoot toward my hairline. It seems like such an innocuous topic, but it hits hard and shakes my composure. I should have expected her to circle back to it—I did tell her to ask a different question last time— but I’m caught off guard, and I’m not used to being caught off guard.
In the pause, concern passes over her face.
A dozen practiced responses flash rapid fire through my head. A dozen tried-and-true ways to change the subject. I could laugh it off. I could make something up. I could distract her with a teasing, flirty comment. I’m a pro at avoiding this topic.
But Aurora is right. I’ve been asking her a lot of personal questions, and she’s been giving me a lot of personal answers. Truthfully, I plan to ask her many more, because I want to know much more about her. And right now, as strange as it feels, I want her to know more about me, too.
So I go against fifteen years of instinct, and I answer.
“Mabel.”
My jaw tightens in anticipation, waiting for my confession to hit the ground and explode like a bomb. My ears train on the birds and the breeze, waiting for the sound of paparazzi shouting and shutters snapping. I brace myself for all of my fears to come alive.
None of it happens.
Instead, Aurora breaks into a wide, surprised smile.
“Wait, what? Your guardian’s name was Mabel, or is this some joke about how you’re your own guardian?”
God, she’s cute. Her nose scrunches up and the green in her eyes sparkles, and I can’t help but laugh. The anxiety fades away until not even a whisper remains.
“Foundation of truth?” I ask, and she nods.
“Obviously.”
I lean in and lower my voice. “Bubble of trust?”
“Of course,” she says, smile still playing on her lips as confusion mixes with her interest. “I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”
I wait for another few breaths to consider her words, but I believe her. I believed her even before she’d finished speaking. It might not be smart, but it’s where I am right now.
“My guardian’s name was Mabel. I called her Ms. Mabel. She died when I was fifteen, and I was sent to a group home. I lasted two weeks. When I ran away, I started using her name.”
Aurora’s jaw drops and her eyes go as wide as frisbees. “You stole her identity?”
I shrug. “I mean, kind of, but not really. I didn’t use her social security number or anything like that. I just started telling people my name was Mabel Rossi. When we signed our first record contract, I had to get all new legal documents, so I used her name and birthday for that, too.”
“What’s your real name?”
I smirk. “Mabel.”
“Okay, but who were you before you were Mabel?”
“Which time?”
“What do you meanwhich time?”
I laugh again. If I knew everyone would react in this way, I’d tell this story all the time. I don’t think Aurora has even blinked. She’s just staring at me with an amused, awestruck smile on her face, and I’m loving it.
“Well, I’m not sure if I was given a name at birth. I was surrendered at a fire station when I was a couple weeks old.”
“A couple weeks? You must have had a name if your birth parents kept you for a couple of weeks.”
