No One Needs to Know by Lindsay Cameron EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author:Lindsay Cameron
- Language: English
- Genre: Psychological Fiction
- Format: PDF/EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
HEATHER
AS THE BLACK Escalade inched down Park Avenue, Heather had the feeling
she was being slowly marched off a cliff. She imagined a loud, male voice
behind her bellowing out the orders—left, right, left, right—until she
plunged blindly over the edge. Was it her husband’s voice she was hearing
in her mind or some generic movie voice, like Morgan Freeman’s? It had to
be the latter. If her husband had his way, she wouldn’t be sitting in this car
right now. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Oliver had repeated, as she’d
pushed her feet into the ballet flats beside the door, his brow crinkled with
concern.
Yes, she was sure.
So why wouldn’t Morgan Freeman shut the hell up?
Heather leaned her head between the seats, peering out the windshield at
the river of illuminated red taillights. A mocking reminder of how little
control she had over the evening.
“Can you take Lexington instead? This doesn’t look like it’s moving.” If
she was going to be marched off a cliff, it should at least be efficient.
The driver tapped the dirty iPhone mounted on the dashboard. “Waze
says Park is better, but whatever you say.” The car swung left and she slid
back on the seat. She could already see the traffic was lighter on Lex. The
knot in her stomach uncoiled a bit.
A good omen—she could use one of those.
She put her hand on her daughter’s arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“It’ll be more fun than you think. I promise.”
“You and I have very different definitions of fun,” Violet muttered, not
bothering to raise her eyes from her phone.
Heather’s jaw clenched. There were kids right now who were weeping to
their parents because they couldn’t get a ticket to this event, yet here her
daughter sat, acting like she was about to spend the evening being
waterboarded.
The driver jammed his brakes at the light, and an expensively clad
woman holding the hand of a curly haired toddler stepped off the curb,
lifting up an open palm to the cars, as if she had the power to stop traffic.
Heather followed them with her eyes, feeling a pinch of nostalgia for when
Violet was that age. Always at arm’s reach. How easy it was to guide her
through life back then. Organic food, music classes to stimulate her brain,
teaching her to go down a slide rather than walk up it—there was a
playbook, a comprehensive step-by-step guide that made perfect sense to
Heather. “It’s easy to feel like a good parent when you have an easy child,”
the director of Violet’s preschool had told a roomful of eager parents, but
Heather wholeheartedly disagreed. It wasn’t genetic luck.
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