Page 60 of The Vow

Her outfit was appropriate; head to toe white like an anti-angel. “I did need you. I’m glad you’re back.”

“What’s wrong!? Do you feel sick?”

“Yes. I feel sick.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Alex said, rushing around the room, panicking. “Where’s the Goddamn phone? I thought I left it on the table.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Check behind the kitchen island.”

The color drained from her cheeks when she found it. “What’s it doing on the floor?”

“I threw it.”

“Why?”

“Well, I was having a nice chat with a friend of yours but then he pissed me off.”

“What friend?”

She looked so sweet, like a child who’s been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Tears of rage threatened to fall, but I tamed them, too intent to make her suffer.

“Said his name’s Scarpetta. He has to cancel for Friday, but he said he’d still pay you. I thought that was nice of him.”

She paled. I thought she would scream, or cry, or run, but she casually put her purse down and sat on the couch. We had a wordless showdown, simply staring at one another. It was all very grotesque.

“I wanted to tell you so many times,” she said emotionless. “But I was afraid.”

If we were before a judge, I’d hear the verdict in my favor. “You don’t deny it.”

“I want you to know that it’s not what you think.”

“That’s a little cliché, isn’t it, Alex? The ‘it’s not what you think’ line? Why don’t you explain it to me then? Because right now, I can barely stand to be in the same room with you.”

Finally, she broke down. Her head met her hands. She tugged at her skirt that was already past her knees in an ugly display of modesty, and through garbled tears, she confirmed what I already knew to be a lie. “We needed the money. I thought you’d agree to rehab if we had enough saved. I did it for us.”

“How noble of you. Except you forgot that Nick is already giving us money.”

“Where do you think he got it from!?”

“What are you saying?”

“I swore him to secrecy. I asked him to pretend it was coming from him. Please don’t be mad at him.”

“God damn you!” My best friend was dead to me.

“Pip, listen... please, love...”

“Don’t you fucking call me that!”

She looked like I had punched her in the throat. “Okay, okay. Please listen. It’s not about intimacy. It’s robotic. And it’s a lot of money in a short time. Far more money than I would make working a retail job. And if you want to know the truth...”

“Don’t make me laugh! The truth? You’ve been lying to me this entire time!”

“I was doing it before I met you. After Simon died,” she said, quickly. “To survive.”

When you discover someone is lying to you, you hate them for various reasons. One reason is that they help you realize how incredibly stupid you’ve been. “Jesus fucking Christ, is that what you meant by ‘public relations?’ Who are you!?”

Desperate, she kneeled in front of my chair and urged me to look at her. “Baby, please. I’m still me. I’ve always been me, and I swear to you that I have never cheated on you.”