Now

"Pad Thai, tofu, extra lime on the side," says Andy. "Thanks."

"And I'll have the panang chicken, medium spice," I say, returning the plastic menu to the server.

Andy and I are sitting at a little table by the window at Siam House on Fourth Street, an eclectic restaurant in what was formerly a Victorian house, with tables scattered through a maze of interconnected rooms, alcoves and nooks. It smells delicious, rich and sweet and tangy all at once, and my stomach is growling. Annaleigh, tummy finally full, is mercifully asleep in her bucket-style car seat with a blanket thrown over top. Rain patters against the window, and Fourth Street is full of umbrellas. We drove here from campus in my car, since Andy's car is, in his words, a dump on wheels.

"So—" starts Andy, but I gesture for him to wait. My phone, face up on the table, has just lit up.

"Hello?" I say.

"This is Mitchell." The sheriff's voice is a deep growl, like he's already irritated.

"Yes! Hi! Have you found Josh?"

"Nope. And funny thing, I can't find you either."

"Oh. I'm not home. I'm...with a friend. Has something come up?"

"Sure has." There's a wet smacking, like he's chewing something. "And I'd like to discuss it face-to-face."

A couple seconds slip by as I debate if I should press him to tell me now.

"I'll be back tonight," I finally say.

"What time?"

"I don't know."

He chuckles. "Don't run now, Julia."

"I'm not." But my heart is suddenly thundering just as if I was.

"A little late for running."

"I'm not running!" I spout. "I have no reason to run. I'm Josh's wife, and I love him, and I want him found more than anyone. I'll be back when I'm back. Goodbye." With a trembling finger, I disconnect and slam the phone down on the table, which wobbles. "God," I swear, interlacing my fingers to stop their shaking. "Sorry."

"New development?" says Andy.

"I think so. But the fucking sheriff won't tell me what. I swear, Andy, he is going to nail me for something before this is over." I blow air out through my teeth, then turn my phone face down, like that will clear the area of the sheriff's toxicity.

"Listen, Julia," says Andy. "I know this is awkward to bring up, but—if you end up in trouble with the law...we have options." His tone is cautious. "Remember all those papers I went over with you, when you married Josh?"

I have a feeling I know where this is going.

Andy continues. "Remember how I told you that if you ever wanted out, the best way was through WekTech?"

I remember all too well how Andy explained it to me, the day before I got married. Not too different from his spiel after the poolside attack. How my personhood is a legal gray area, so my best bet was for WekTech to maintain legal rights to me. An exit door, in case I ever wanted to leave Josh.

"You're talking about the company repossessing me," I say, trying to sound calm, like it's not disturbing as hell to be treated like an object to be strategically moved around a board.

"It's just a possibility." Andy turns his palms up like he's apologizing for even mentioning it.

"Well, we're not there now. Moving on."

"Yeah." Andy clears his throat. "So... I heard they found Josh's car. Where do things stand now? Are there any leads?"

"No leads." At least, none they've shared with me.

"Do you think he's..." He stops himself, but I know what he means. Dead.

"It's okay. I'm wondering the same thing," I say, feeling suddenly guilty that Andy is on my mental list of suspects when he's displaying so much concern. "Do you remember that crazy lady who attacked me? On the show?"

"How could I forget?"

"I saw her at my Walmart."

"No way. The same woman? Are you sure?"

I sigh. "I'm pretty sure. She dyed her hair, but... Do you remember her name?"

"Something with a D. Old-fashioned sounding." Andy snaps his fingers over and over. "Darlene? Doris? I'll make some calls and let you know."

"Thanks." And now for your turn. "I'm also trying to put together what happened Saturday and Sunday. You went to Stella's Sunday morning, right? And Josh didn't show?" I force myself to look right into Andy's brown eyes, even though I'm scared as shit to see what I'll find there.

"Right." Andy looks down. He twitches his index finger, scratching at the table. "I figured he decided to be an asshole and blow me off." His gaze flickers up, embarrassed. "God. That was super insensitive of me. Please forget I said it."

There's a definite sting, but I decide not to make a big deal.

"Sorry you had to wait there by yourself," I say. "Did you at least eat something good?"

Andy gives me a strange look. "What?"

"Just tell me what you had to eat, Andy."

"Nothing! What's gotten into you? Stella's was closed, okay? I waited for Josh in the parking lot for over an hour. I figured when he came, we could head somewhere else. Obviously, that didn't happen."

"Andy, I want you to be honest, even if you think it might upset me. Did you guys end up having it out Saturday night?"

"Why would you think that?" He seems sincerely bewildered.

"I don't know. I'm grasping at straws, okay?" I pause. "Did you bring McDonald's?"

"Huh?"

"When you came to my house. You brought wine. Did you bring fast food, too?"

He looks mystified. "How drunk were you, Julia?"

"Too drunk, I guess." I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with my memories from that night, beyond the wine. Is it really just the haze of alcohol, muddying my recollection? From the chasm running through me, those eyes are staring back, like they know something I don't. A chilling thought runs down me like cold water. Was I drunk, or...was someone else in control? Someone like... Andy.

Impossible. Andy has explained it before. I'm not online. I can't be hacked.

Suddenly I notice his pen, hooked as always on his shirt. I can't believe I didn't put that together right away. "One of your pens was in Josh's tent."

"Really?" His surprise seems innocent.

"Blue gel pen. Bite marks."

Andy's look takes a tired turn, like our explosive exchange has worn him down.

"Julia. He could have gotten that pen from you. You could've gotten it from me. I go through a dozen per week, and they're always disappearing." He sighs. "Look. This is the truth. I drove to Belmont Ridge Saturday night after I left your house, like I told you, because it didn't make sense to go all the way back to Bloomington. I got a room at a shitty motel. I barely slept. I was so pissed about Josh putting you through the wringer for no reason. The next morning, I waited for him in the parking lot at Stella's. After an hour, during which I texted him multiple times with no answer, I drove back to Bloomington. I even got a fucking speeding ticket."

"You never speed." I can't help but remember Miss Pert and her reckless driver. Slender fellow. What if it wasn't Josh? What if it was Andy, setting up the tent and speeding away?

"I was upset, okay? Honestly, I've had these moments where I wonder if I made a huge mistake."

"What mistake?"

"With you. Designing you for the show. With him in mind. I guess I feel like everything bad that happens to you...everything bad about him, about your relationship...even him disappearing or whatever...is my fault."

Andy seems sincere, but I also have a vague memory of asking him Saturday night if he'd make me again for Josh, given the chance. And Andy saying he'd do it all over again. Is that real? Or did I dream it?

"Don't blame yourself," I say. "You couldn't have predicted any of this."

"You're not pissed that we put you on the show?" he says softly. "That you ended up with Josh?"

"I love my husband," I say. In spite of everything, it's true. "He's got his problems. I've got mine, too."

"Nah," says Andy, his eyes glassy with emotion. "You're perfect, Julia Walden."

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Would being in love with me be enough of a motive for Andy to kill Josh? Especially if Andy realized the extent of my marriage troubles?

I never told anyone. Eden figured it out. But she's the only one.

Eden.Her face flashes into my head so fast, the blood drains out of me.

It was her. Different hair, feathering out from under a stocking cap, but it was her next to Andy in that fish-eye lens picture. Team JULIA assembles!

The one person who knew how ugly my marriage was really getting.

"Did someone named Eden Jeliazkova work for you at WekTech?" I burst out.

"Rings a bell," Andy says cautiously. "Wait, yeah! Eden. I remember her."

"Andy, she's my babysitter. She lives, like, two houses down from me."

Andy's face goes pale under his beard. "What?"

I know he's thinking exactly what I am: there is no circumstance in which this is a coincidence.

The server returns with our food.

"You fired her?" I hazard as I dip my spoon into the curry, trying to remember Eden's vague allusions to her professional disaster.

"Yeah. She was my intern, like, five years ago? Six?" Andy pokes his fork into the steaming bowl of noodles. "We had just launched project JULIA. She was still in undergrad. I didn't even know her at first. Interns weren't super on my radar. Then she pulled this prank. She hacked into my phone." He gives me a significant look.

"Okay..."

"She hacked into my phone. Like—you have no idea how much security my phone has. My laptop. All my personal devices. There are WekTech secrets on there. It's fucking Alcatraz, sci-fi version." He squeezes a lime wedge onto his pad Thai.

"Okay, so she pulled an impressive prank."

"Not impressive. Genius. Eden Jeliazkova is a genius."

"So why is she living in Eauverte, Indiana, making fifteen bucks an hour watching my kid?"

Andy rubs his forehead. "Let me get this straight. First the whacko who attacked you is at your Walmart. Now my old intern is living on your street?"

"Yes." But the whacko concerns me far less than the girl who's been inside my house more times than I can count. "Andy, what if Eden works for your competition? If she's such a genius, maybe she stole company secrets." One idea tumbles into the next. "Maybe she's...spying on me. Collecting data for BotTech. Or someone else." A voice in my head pipes up. Maybe she killed Josh. I haven't worked out her motives. But BotTech is legally attacking one of the very Synths they created. Surely they might have an angle to ruining my life. Or incriminating me for something I didn't do. Especially if that wiped WekTech, their biggest competitor, right off the map...

"This is bad," says Andy.

"You can say that again," I mutter.

The thought that my sweet, innocent babysitter is actually a tech genius who may be trying to take me down from across the street...it's breathtakingly bad. She's cared for my baby. Alone. She could have hurt Annaleigh. Even today, I texted her and asked her to walk Captain. One thing is sure: I'm not letting her anywhere near us ever again.

My phone dings. I lift it reflexively. A message from Eden. She likes to update me when I put her in charge.

Heeyyy boss, just walked Captain and I'm pretty sure someone from Child Protective Services just pulled up to ur house. U might wanna keep A away from here.

My skin goes clammy, my heartbeat feverish. I turn the phone mutely toward Andy.

"Shit," he breathes. Reminding me of exactly how much shit has entered my life in the past few days.

Whatever her deal is, Eden just saved my ass. I force myself to remember how kind she's truly been over the past six months. Is she really out to get me? Or am I just jumping to wild conclusions like I'm probably doing with Bob, with Andy, with Walmart woman?

I can't answer that now. But all these thoughts are quickly sinking under a much weightier realization: I can't take Annaleigh back to Eauverte. Not if CPS is involved. I have to take her somewhere safe. Out of Dover County isn't good enough. Out of the state would be better.

And just like that, I know where I have to go.

I wipe my mouth and stand. "Thanks for lunch."

"Wait, Julia," says Andy, also standing. "You can't just leave. If they're after Annaleigh? It's not safe. We need a plan."

Our lunch is only half-finished, but my appetite is gone.

Wait.I've done a lot of that. Waiting to be accepted. Waiting for things with Josh to get better. Waiting for our marriage to feel stable. Waiting for our life to feel like it was supposed to.

Of course I want a plan. Of course I want safety.

But I can't wait any longer.

THEN

The two-on-one date is a nasty surprise.

New York Gillian and I eye each other over Josh, who's sitting between us in the back seat of the SUV, looking ahead and occasionally sharing fun historical or geographical details about the area with the energetic charm of a tour guide.

But neither of us is here for tour guide vibes. So Gill and I suffer through it with what I'm convinced is a secret competition of who can seem the most genuinely interested.

It turns out there aren't as many synonyms for fascinating as I thought.

Out the window, the California landscape has dried into rolling yellow hills roasting under the morning sun. A view that makes you thirsty just by looking.

"This is Antelope Valley," Josh says. "Just half an hour away now from Vasquez Rocks Park."

We're rock climbing today, which would be exciting, except for the two-on-one aspect, which, according to the rules of the show, means that Josh will eliminate either Gillian or me by the end of the date. Gillian and I both had to pack our bags this morning, so that whoever gets eliminated is ready to go quickly and with no fanfare.

"So you're a rock climber, Josh?" says Gillian. She sounds different than normal. Like she's trying to be sweet instead of her sarcastic self.

"Yeah, there's a climbing wall in Indianapolis I go to with some buddies. But this is my first time climbing in the great outdoors."

"I can't wait," says Gillian, which is such a lie. She hates anything that makes her sweat. She smiles at me. "You'll need extra sunscreen, Jules."

"I brought some," I say, smiling back.

At the park, climbing experts help us into the gear. Then, the three of us scale a red cliff that juts sideways out of the land, like a crashed spaceship. It's spectacular, and I find I'm a natural at locating footholds and nooks to grip on my way up. I've never sweated so much in my life, and as the dry breeze moves against my wet skin, I'm surprised to find that I love the feeling.

Josh, showing off his pure muscle in a sleeveless tank, arrives at the top first. I arrive second, and after a high five, we peer over the edge together. Gillian is still struggling toward the middle.

"You should go back down and encourage her," I say, squinting at Josh's handsome form. His tank is drenched in sweat, his scent strong. Mmm, why is that such a turn-on?

"Really? You're encouraging me toward the competition?" He flexes his arms behind his head. "I thought this was going to be a catfight to get my attention."

I laugh. "I don't think a few minutes more or less with you is going to make or break either of us."

He grins. "Alright. I'll go be a gentleman."

Shielding my eyes from the sun's glare, I watch him descend. After he and Gillian make it to the top, we all high-five. Then we rappel down.

As I chug water from a cooler, Josh asks Gillian to take a walk alone with him. I entertain myself during their absence by gazing out at the stark landscape and chatting with one of the camera guys about his fiancée. He lets me try on his sunglasses, and I make silly faces for the confessional camera while he asks me about the day so far. I can see a team setting up a fancy picnic some distance away.

When Josh comes back, Gillian-less and with a heavy step, I rise to greet him.

"So...that sucked. I just said goodbye to Gillian."

I reach out both my hands, feeling a mix of euphoria and genuine sorrow that I didn't get to say goodbye to Gill. I've come a long way from my nest-of-vipers days. He takes my hands and squeezes.

"I'm sorry," I say. "She was special, you know?"

He looks at me with a kind of wonderment. "See? This is what makes you different. You're so nice, even when there's no payoff. Some of the other girls...well, I guess I shouldn't tell you the kinds of things they say. If I'm being a gentleman."

Of course I'm curious, but I'm also smarter than that.

"Yeah," I agree. "Why let other people's negativity ruin the moment?"

Josh's dimples both come out. "You make me want to be better. I should keep you around."

I couldn't be smiling bigger as we walk toward the picnic that's waiting in the shade of the rock. But Josh is still pensive.

"I was an angry teen, you know? Definitely not a gentleman. With my parents' divorce, and my dad being gone..."

We settle on the blanket and I open a bottle of white.

"Did you have good friends, at least, to support you?"

"I mean—not good friends. A lot of idiots like me. And some girlfriends. But I wouldn't call them supportive. We were all just... I don't know. Young and stupid."

"Girlfriends," I prompt as I pour two glasses. "Yeah, I haven't heard much about your romantic history."

"I've always dated casually. I guess my first girlfriend was in college. She was really sweet. And also kind of a wreck. We dated sophomore year for a couple months, and then she went crazy on me." He shivers visibly.

"Crazy?"

"I broke up with her, you know, as one does when one is nineteen and has no idea what they're doing or what they want. We hadn't met each other's families or said I love you or anything, like...it wasn't that serious. But she lost it. Started to stalk me. I had to delete all my social media. It was scary as shit that this girl I thought I knew had this...dark side."

"Did she stop after a while, or..." I prompt. I feel for teenage Josh. Everything I've heard about the teenage years both from him and the girls sounds painful and dramatic and, honestly, I'm a little grateful I didn't have to live through that.

"Yeah. But it shook me. I didn't seriously date again until my midtwenties. There was a girl I moved in with when I was twenty-six. Cassie. That lasted all of three weeks."

"Whose dark side ruined that?" I tease.

"Oh, definitely hers. The situation was, I was allergic to her cat. I didn't even know I was allergic! But she acted like I tricked her or something."

"So she chose the cat," I say lugubriously.

Josh laughs.

"Do you have a type?" I ask.

"Sure. I like sweet girls who know how to have fun, who don't take everything so seriously. Like you. People who are kind. Considerate."

"Not stalkers."

He laughs. "Right."

"Or cat owners."

"I mean, ideally."

"But no physical traits, huh? Skinny, curvy, blondes, brunettes—"

"Redheads," he admits with a bashful grin. "I don't know what it is, but I do love me a redhead."

"Oh my God, really?" I say, feigning surprise and tossing my ponytail.

He hooks a finger under my chin and tugs my face close. Our lips meet. He tastes like salt from our sweaty climb, like wine, like laughter, and I want more than anything to be the woman with no dark side. To be full of light, and fun, and all the things that will make him happy forever.

We pull back. He's flushed from our kiss, his face a little rough with the first shadow of a beard, his eyes alive with desire. The date is now fully ours, and the shadow of the rock reminds me of the rush of victory I felt when Josh and I were standing up there together, looking down on the rest of the world. Like we could conquer anything.

Something squeezes at my heart, and I can't tell if it's a moment of great strength or utter weakness, but the words slip out without me even meaning to say them.

"I love you."