The Secrets We Keep Read online

  THE SECRETS WE KEEP

  Mia Hayes

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2018 by Mia Hayes

  All rights reserved.

  Fourth Edition

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  ISBN 978-0-692-11352-3 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-386-15780-9 (ebook)

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  Front cover Design: RBA Designs

  For the ones who get me through.

  Contents

  BEFORE

  1. Surviving the Suburbs

  2. Better Late Than Never

  3. These Bitches Are Just Like Me

  4. Happiness is a Wine Bottle Away

  5. Magic Medicine

  6. Dinner for Four

  7. Happy Hour

  8. Parting Ways

  9. The Perfect Kids

  10. All About Karen Newbold

  11. Are You Effing Kidding Me?

  12. Everything is Gray

  13. Breaking Hearts and Breaking Rules

  14. Members Only

  15. Secrets and Lies

  16. Bend It Like a Pretzel

  17. All That Shimmers

  18. I’m My Own Worst Enemy

  19. When the Ladder Falls

  20. Thicker Than Water

  NOW

  21. The Tragedy Hunter

  22. Life Resumes

  23. That Type of Woman

  24. I’m a Four, Not a Two

  25. Love You, Love You Not

  26. Paper Trail

  27. A Sheep Never Strays Too Far

  28. No Going Back

  29. Slamming Doors Shut

  30. Photographic Evidence

  31. I’m Not You

  32. Keeping Up Appearances

  33. Imposter Syndrome

  34. Call Me Maybe

  35. Give Yourself Up

  36. The Band’s Getting Back Together

  37. Catch Me If You Can

  38. Memories of Things Past

  39. Nothing’s More Dangerous Than a Man Scorned

  40. Boom Crash

  41. Puzzle Pieces

  42. Aftermath

  43. With Friends Like These

  44. When the Chickens Come Home to Roost

  LATER

  45. It’s a Charmed Life

  46. All Good Things Must End

  Author Notes

  About the Author

  Also by Mia Hayes

  Preview of ALL THE BROKEN PIECES

  BEFORE

  1

  Surviving the Suburbs

  Here’s a fact: In my suburb, everything you see — the perfection, the picket fences, the perky boobs – is fake.

  Another fact: Popularity matters here. It’s the key to everything.

  Last fact: My husband and kids love this place, so I’m toughing it out because the schools are excellent, the lawns are pristine, and my kids can bike to the local pool. Really, if I were a kid, I would think I lived in Nirvana, too.

  As for me, I’m making the best of it. Or so I tell myself. I have “friends,” I go to parties, I have lunches. But real friends? Ha! This is the suburbs. You don’t have friends. You have people you hang out and get drunk with.

  I have plenty of those.

  So who do I get drunk with? Who spills their guts to me? That’s easy. Everyone. But you’re not interested in the ordinary folks. No, what you want to hear about is the Bitch Brigade aka the Plastics, The Barbies, The Heathers. Whatever you want to call them, they're still bitches. Sweet to your face, knife in the back. And ruthless to each other.

  The head bitch in charge is Karen Newbold. It’s widely known that there are three women who run Waterford, and she's the one who runs them all. These women chair every committee and seem lost when Karen isn't around to tell them what to do.

  Which brings me to Alexis Frond. According to Karen, she has a drinking problem. Carries a tall Starbucks tumbler of vodka with her wherever she goes and has an obvious eating disorder in that she never eats. Poor thing lives on secret cigarettes and booze. Her three kids are monsters, and her husband is on the golf course all the time, which may be why she drinks so much.

  Karen and Alexis both wish they looked like Veronica White. She of the glowing skin and flowing butter-blond locks. There are rumors her husband has been cheating on her. In fact, while drunk one night, Karen strongly hinted he’s cheating with someone in the community — but no one knows with whom. I'm not sure the rumors are true, but I've met him, and he's charming as sin. So maybe.

  And then there's me. Your anonymous, snarky narrator. I collect secrets - marital, financial, sexual. The dark ones people can barely admit to themselves. And I file them away here. Aren’t I sweet?

  Welcome to Waterford, bitches!

  Piles of gray snow blocked the path to my car, and slush stuck to my Uggs, but I kept my eyes trained on my phone as I walked. The familiar face – brown eyes and stylish chestnut hair and too-wide smile – staring back at me made my heart pound, and I inhaled deeply before exhaling for a seven-count, something my therapist assured me was the fastest way to fight anxiety.

  “Elizabeth!”

  I jerked my head up, lost my balance, and collided into the car next to me while sliding to the ground and sprawling flat on my back. My giant handbag landed on my head, and my Coke slammed into the car before splashing back out all over me.

  “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” Sarah Cole peered down at me. “Elizabeth?”

  I shoved my bag aside and blinked up at her as stars sparked behind my eyes. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Can you get up? I’d help you and all, but if you have a neck injury…well Kyle says it isn’t a good idea to move people who’ve fallen.” Kyle had a reputation for being a dick, so I wasn’t surprised he’d tell Sarah not to help people when they were down.

  “I’m fine,” I said as I attempted to roll over in the dirty, Coke-stained slush and onto my side. I was so going to hurt the next day. “How are you?”

  Sarah squatted next to me and picked up my phone. She glanced at the screen before handing it to me. “A friend from Portland?”

  “Yes.” I shoved the phone into my bag. “I was just catching up on Facebook.”

  Sarah flashed a white smile before lending me her gloved hand, which I gladly accepted. “Did you see the blog? The one about Karen?”

  Thankfully, that’s what she wanted to talk about. “I did. It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”

  I expected Sarah to jump to Karen and her friends’ defense – that’s what I would have done - but Sarah giggled. “Yeah, but it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? I mean, everyone knows Alexis keeps vodka in that water bottle of hers. And Pete is totally cheating on Veronica.”

  “Allegedly,” I answered. “No one has proof about that.”

  “Who do you think wrote it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe one of their husbands?” It was so ridiculous it almost made sense.

  Sarah shrugged. “Anyway, I just ran into Karen. She likes my new gloves.”

  There was no concern about how Karen felt about the blog – and I’m positive she gave Sarah an earful. No, there was just delight over the fact Karen had noticed her gloves. They were a deep berry color, but other t
han that look like normal leather gloves.

  “They’re pretty,” I said.

  “Kyle picked them out for me as a thank-you gift for holding down the fort.” Sarah admired the gloves. “He’s been super busy at work, so we don’t see him much, but it’s okay. Letitia and I have the kids on a tight schedule.” I didn’t know who Letitia was, but I assumed Sarah meant her nanny. Most women - even the stay at home moms - had one.

  Wet snow clung to my jeans and seeped through the fabric and onto my skin. When I adjusted my hat, it was sticky from the Coke splattering into it. Wonderful. I hated everything icy and cold. Like winter. I was from the West Coast, land of…well, I was from Portland, land of rain and fog. But still, we rarely had snow.

  “You know what? Let’s have lunch soon, okay?” Sarah said. It was like my fall never happened, and I wasn’t standing in the cold with soda dripping off my hat. She whipped out her iPhone. “Do you like a good, greasy burger? I do, but Kyle gets upset if he catches me eating one. The man doesn’t understand that I can’t help myself. I’m a Southern girl. I’m not allowed to say no to food…especially dessert.”

  We had never interacted much beyond the occasional party. She’d be there, I’d be there, and we’d both say ‘hi’ and make the necessary small talk. Sarah and I were Facebook friends and social acquaintances, but that’s all.

  So, her asking me to lunch was a huge deal. Huge. Like we were on our way to being friends huge. And pathetic, shadow of herself me was desperate for a friend.

  “I love burgers,” I said while trying not to sound over eager. “The greasier, the better.”

  “How does this Wednesday look? We could go to a new place out in Lodi where no one will catch us.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Because if it isn’t a salad, it isn’t Waterford approved.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m free,” I said as I fished my phone from the cavernous depths of my bag. When I found it, I clicked open the calendar for show. If I wasn’t with Karen, I was always free – and I had no plans with Karen.

  Sarah smiled brightly. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up, okay?”

  “That’ll be great. I really hate driving in the snow.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth. You’re going to have to get used to it at some point.” Sarah air kissed my cheeks before hurrying into the warmth of Panera and leaving me alone in the parking lot with wet jeans and a bruised backside.

  I gathered my things and tossed them onto the passenger seat. When Jason bought me this car, I thought the seat warmers were a funny novelty, but I quickly learned they’re essential. Especially when your pants were drenched.

  My house was only a few blocks from the Town Center, but it was enough time to ruminate. How awkward was I? Did Sarah think I was socially inept? Had I air kissed the right way?

  But mostly I wondered if I had done enough that day. Had I really? I hung-out alone at Panera eating food I shouldn’t and spoke with Sarah while dirty dishes sat in the sink and clean laundry waited — not in the basket, but on the counter — to be folded. The boys hadn’t done their chores the night before, which made me look bad, but if I got through those, maybe Jason would give me a gold star instead of the usual high-five.

  Jason.

  Sometimes…

  No. I needed to take that thought and push it aside. We were trying, and that’s what mattered.

  I pressed my hand against my bag and could feel the outline of my phone. Part of me wanted to smash it so I’d never have to see it again, but what good would that do?

  It wouldn’t change things. Nothing would.

  Nothing ever could.

  2

  Better Late Than Never

  Jason was late. As usual. I had fed the kids and gotten them ready for bed, and he still hadn’t arrived. He wasn’t answering his phone either which drove my mind to the absolute worst places. He knew not being able to reach him was one of my triggers, and yet it seemed to be happening more and more.

  I clenched my phone before pulling up Facebook on the web browser. Just to be safe, because Jason liked to check up on me, I cleared the search history and closed my secret account before setting the phone on the counter.

  My stomach grumbled, and I rewarded it with leftover chicken fingers from the boys’ dinner. Nothing like cold, processed chicken parts to make me feel better about the shit way I ate.

  After I finished inhaling my dinner, I tried Jason again. On the third ring, the garage door opened, and I hung up.

  “Hey,” I said as Jason walked in the door. His tie was loosened and his hair disheveled, but I tried not to think about what it may mean. What it could mean. “I’ve been calling you.”

  He placed a peck on my forehead. “Sorry. My phone ran out of juice in the tunnel. I had to make most of the ride with nothing to read. And of course, the Red Line was on fire again.”

  “That sucks.” I waited for Jason to notice that my hair was curled, and my lips were a plummy-berry color. I waited for the compliment on my fitted LBD and stiletto heels. I thought maybe we could salvage the evening.

  I waited, but he said nothing, so I swept past him, disappointed, and into the kitchen. Maybe his mind was too distracted from the ride home? Even with the metro, Jason’s commute was hell. The traffic around DC made it impossible to get anywhere easily. We only lived twenty-five miles away, but it took an hour and a half some days for Jason to make the trip. “Since it’s too late to go out, do you want me to heat up some leftovers?”

  Jason dropped his bag on the ground near the counter. His hand brushed my phone, but he didn’t pick it up. “Go out? What are you talking about? We never go out on weeknights.”

  “You said - when we talked this afternoon – that you’d be home early, and we could go out to dinner if I fed the kids first. Just you and me.” I stopped fussing in the fridge, turned around, and gestured to my outfit. “Don’t you remember?”

  My husband scrunched up his face. He had such an expressive face and could never hide his thoughts. “I wouldn’t have. I had a meeting at six, so why would I say I’d come home early?”

  It was so typically Jason. Nothing was ever his fault. “I don’t know. Maybe because you forgot about your meeting?”

  “Elizabeth, don’t. I think you misunderstood me. Don’t go getting mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m frustrated. I clearly remember this conversation, and you’re telling me it didn’t happen. I even dressed up for it.”

  Jason wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a suffocating hug. His biceps were solid and thick, the result of gym time that came at the expense of ‘us’ time. “Sweetheart, maybe you need your meds adjusted again. You’ve really been struggling with your memory lately.”

  I leaned back and looked up at Jason. “No, I…”

  The wall clock ticked steadily, and seconds slid into minutes. My shoulders heaved as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Was Jason right? Did I invent the whole conversation? Had I imagined running into Sarah today, too? My sore ass said no, but my brain wasn’t so sure.

  When Jason released me, I turned toward the double oven, and my reflection stole my breath. My hair was pulled back, and I had lipstick on. I was pulled together, but it was there in my eyes. The panic and the confusion.

  Breathe, Elizabeth, breathe. It’s going to be okay.

  “Hey,” Jason said. “Where are you going in that brain of yours?”

  Did I wear my thoughts like he did his? “We really didn’t talk about this?”

  “We really didn’t.”

  I wandered into the family room and curled up on my favorite arm chair. Weight pressed down on my shoulders, and I hung my head while blinking back the sting of tears. “Do you think I’m starting an episode?”

  “Hey, don’t cry. There’s no reason.” Jason held my hands between his and kissed them. “Call Dr. Carter. Get in and be seen before things get worse.”

  He was right. Dr. Carter always knew what to do. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

  J
ason brushed my cheek with his fingertips, and I put on my brave smile. The one that told him I would be fine and was moving forward. “Good,” he said. “Now what about those leftovers?”

  “Oh, shit, I forgot about that. You’re starving, aren’t you?”

  “Very.” Jason plopped down on the couch and kicked his feet up on the cement coffee table.

  “If you were one of the boys, I’d smack your feet down.”

  “You better not.” Jason narrowed his eyes and gave the kind of laugh you have when you’re about to make a half-serious joke. “Now, if you were a good wife, you’d fetch me a beer.”

  “Of course,” I replied, making sure to keep my voice light. Little things, like getting Jason a beer, made him happy, and I needed to keep him happy. If I didn’t…well, we’d been down that road once already. I couldn’t do it again. “Do you want parm on your noodles?”

  “You know I do.”

  I grated cheese on Jason’s pasta, grabbed a beer from the drink fridge, and presented it all to him as he sat on the couch. He didn’t bother to thank me, just took the plate and fixed his attention back on the television.