Little Secrets

by Jennifer Hillier

Aurora,

Where the hell has she been for six whole months that she didn’t notice? Oh, right. Trying to cope with the disappearance of their child. It tends to keep a mother occupied.

Not for the first time, Marin thinks she could be a typical rich woman in a Nancy Meyers rom-com. Except there’s no romance, and no comedy. Nobody’s laughing. She is in a tragedy.

Marin would be happy to suggest a few hashtags for her: #homewrecker, #whore, and #golddigger, for starters.

Unlike her other old friends, he’s never punished her for jumping into a new tax bracket, for buying a bigger house in a better neighborhood, for succeeding.

Who would have thought that who you love and who you feel safe with might not be the same person?

She’s self-made and she gives back to the community and her hashtags are always #girlboss and #womanowned and #empowerwomen and she’s pretty much everything Kenzie would want to be when she grows up.

“Come on, Kenz. You’re a millennial and a self-described feminist. You can’t be those things and then expect a man to carry your bag for you.”

Not that she has any clue what a professional fixer is supposed to look like. She’s never seen Ray Donovan.

But it’s not about what’s real. It’s about what it looks like.

but he seems particularly fascinated with Derek. Because of the missing kid.

Fifty thousand followers on social media, and not one single friend who’ll come by when she’s having a rough night.

“You’re a blank slate, and you don’t know how much I need that.”

You do batshit-crazy things when you’re drowning. When you’re underwater, you’ll grab on to whatever’s closest to you if it means you can take one more breath.

The amount it cost Marin to end her life is, coincidentally, the exact same amount it will cost Derek to save it.