Harper’s foot slips from the ladder rung, and she reaches out to grab something to hold. It’s no use. She tumbles to the side away from the bookshelf and hits the floor with a sickening pop. The floor is painted concrete with no rugs in front of the bookshelf. The sound of her body crashing against the surface causes me to flinch. It’s like watching one of those car crash commercials on television in slow motion.

My muscles have trouble taking directions from my brain. I drop the bags of takeout and run to her. “God, Harper. Don’t move.”

She’s flat on her back but sits up, obviously determined not to do as I say. “I’m OK.”

Postcards are strewn for at least ten feet surrounding us. I kneel into the space beside her. “Careful. Is anything bruised? Broken?”

Her eyes water and she looks away, sucking in air.

“I knew you were hurt. I’m going to take you to the emergency room.”

“No! I’m fine.” She begins picking up postcards in her immediate reach.

“Leave them.” I put my arms around her body. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” She begins picking up cards again.

I run my fingers along the back of her head to feel for any bumps. Nothing. No blood. I allow myself to calm down. “I didn’t mean to startle you when I came in.”

She must’ve been looking for a book and grabbed one of my storage boxes by mistake. “Baby, you’re shaking. Are you positive you’re OK?” I draw back.

“Yes, yes.” Her voice has a strained edge. “I shouldn’t have been in your things.”

I frown at her expression. Something is off and I can’t put for my finger on her mood. Maybe the fall frightened her as much as it did me. “Come on.” I hold out a hand to help her up.

“Aren’t you mad?”

“No. I mean, I’m just glad you didn’t kill yourself when you hit this floor.”

Harper continues picking up the postcards. She wasn’t looking for a book; does she know what the cards are? I still her hands and take the cards from her. “I’ve got this,” I say. “Let’s get you to the sofa.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice is now soft and regretful. She has to be embarrassed, being caught snooping.

Why do I feel bad for her? Normally, I’d be pissed. Only Josie and Dane know I’m Mr. Expose. And now Harper has glimpsed a part of my life that I’ve vowed to keep a secret.

I put my arm around Harper and kiss her head. “Come on. Let’s see if the lasagna survived. I dropped our dinner when you did the sky dive from my ladder.”

Harper shrugs me off and goes to the bag. “I’m OK. I’ll get the food out.”

I can’t figure out what’s wrong with her. “OK. I’ll pick up this.”

All my storage boxes contain three months of postcards. I carefully log all the cards by scanning them as an image into the computer, but I can’t let myself throw the physical ones away. I save them like some nostalgic hoarder.

It takes me a few minutes to pick up the cards. Although I tag them and put them in a special order when I store the cards, I don’t have time for that now. I have a moody woman on my hands and I’m confused. Harper is not that type.

She stares at me, her body as tense as I’ve never seen it.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Can we talk about the postcards? About Mr. Expose?”

My eyes widen. She’s called out the name of my blog and had time to read one of the cards. How long had she been on the ladder, reading?

“It’s for a website I run.”

“Is everything you do a big secret?”

I’m taken off-guard by her tone. Why do I suddenly need to defend myself? It reminds me of the way Tori always quizzed me about how I paid my bills and how much I made. “That’s all you need to know. I’d appreciate not talking about it anymore,” I say coolly. “And you should forget you saw the postcards.”

“It’s not like you’re running a porn site.” She’s breathing hard. “I want to talk about it.”

Why the hell is she so angry? “But it is confidential and my business. People trust me. If I were a psychiatrist, you wouldn’t expect me to divulge client records.”

She squeezes her eyes closed. “I knew you were Mr. Expose before today.”

Her sudden admission feels all wrong, twisting in my gut like a soured meal. I search my brain for some time I’ve slipped and said something. “Why haven’t you said anything? I need to know what’s going on.”

“I sent you a card. I asked that you return it and you wouldn’t. I knew who you were when I moved into my apartment.” She opens her eyes. “I’ve lied to you. I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Fuck, Harper. I don’t get it.” But I do get it. I thought she’d been following me and that things were too convenient. Why would a postcard spur all that? And how can I look at her without wondering what else is a lie?

She’s pale and I have to stop myself from going to her. I want to comfort her. Comfort myself. But I’ve been with a woman who lied to me too many times and this shift in my world with Harper cuts me.

She is a liar.

I inhale slowly and make my way to the sofa. “I don’t know you at all, do I? You sent me emails. You were the one who kept writing me, over and over. Right?”

She nods and twists her hands. “I should’ve told you in the beginning. But this thing with us isn’t a lie. I…um… I didn’t know I was going to feel like I do about you.”

I rub my hands over my face. I feel hot, and cold. “I’ve been honest with you. I have this thing about people lying to me.”

“Honest? You aren’t honest about what you do with that blog. I’ve hinted around, tried to bring it up and you won’t talk about it. Is that honest?”

My temper paws at the gate of my self-control. “Don’t try to turn this on me. That’s work. It’s confidential. My pen name’s a secret because I don’t tell people about it. It’s not a personal thing between you and me.”

“What about Tori?”

“What about her?”

“Were you with her while she was married?”

It’s a simple question. Yet the answer is very complicated. I pause and attempt to give her an answer, but I’m angry now. How has this conversation turned to my ex? How did she know this about Tori?

Harper raises an eyebrow. “No answer? I only need a yes or no. I don’t want any explanation.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Yes or no.” She stands with her arms folded over her chest.

She doesn’t want an explanation. My pulse thrums in my ears. Tori was a liar. Harper is a liar. I want to reverse the past hour and go back to before. I don’t want to know she’s exactly like Tori. “Yes.”

Harper doesn’t meet my gaze. Her eyes are filled with tears and I’m pissed that I want to stop her pain. At the same time, I want her to hurt like she’s hurting me.

She walks out my door and quietly closes it.

* * *

I don’t leave my apartment for two days. Josie drops in and attempts to quiz me about what happened between Harper and me, but I won’t engage. I guess that Josie is the one who told Harper the details of my relationship with Tori.

Josie can be my ally, but she also interferes. When she discovers Harper’s lies, she’ll get all up in arms like she did over Tori. It’s more than I can stand right now. My sister threatened to do Tori physical harm more than once and they weren’t even friends. Josie’s like a gangster that way.

Sometimes the twin thing is just too much. Too stifling. Too invasive.

A knock at my door sends prickles of dread through me. I peer through the peephole, then open the door wide. Dane strolls in with Gunner, a friend from my school days and one I haven’t seen lately. It’d be hard to turn them away.

Dane takes a seat on my sofa and Gunner grabs a barstool.

“What’s going on?” I turn the television volume down.

“Thinking about going fishing. You up for it?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I have too much to do.”

Gunner looks around my apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. You like your new one?” I ask him. “I haven’t seen you much since you moved back.”

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while to get everything set up with the business. I haven’t had time to do anything since I started it. I’ve got a day off.” Gunner’s a guy who works harder than anyone I know with his own landscaping business. When he moved to Arkansas as a teen, I thought I’d seen the last of him.

I’m glad to see him back. A guy can never have too many good friends. My mind wanders to Harper and how I miss her. Is she sitting across the hall alone and thinking about me? But no. I glance at the clock and realize she’s at work.

Dane puts his feet up on the trunk in front of him. “How are you and Harper doing? Have you seen her lately?”

Silence.

This isn’t the type of conversations we usually have. He’s treading on serious ground. “You talked to Josie?”

He doesn’t even pretend. “She mentioned it.”

“She send you over here?” I give him a look. He and my sister should not be joining forces against me.

“Nah. I came on my own. For the fishing.” He glances at Gunner. “Right, Gun?”

“Bullshit.” I smile. It’s fake and hard-as-hell to execute since I haven’t felt anything close to a smile since Harper walked out my door.

Gunner leans back against the bar and stretches his legs to the floor. He’s a tall guy—still built like the star football player he was when I went to school with him. The landscaping business agrees with him. “Women. They make life a helluva lot tougher than it should be.”

Dane nods, as if he has women problems. The only problem he has is running from his feelings for my sister. All other women throw themselves at him. Owning a bar has its advantages and disadvantages. Drunk, lonely women could fall into both categories.

He puts his feet down and leans up with elbows on his knees. “Tori came in last night.”

There’s a reason he’s telling me this. Tori still visits Dastardly’s on a regular basis, so her appearance isn’t news. “Oh yeah?” I ask.

“She said you two might get back together and that Harper is causing both of you problems.” Dane examines his cuticles and picks at one.

“Man. You know that’s a lie.” I take a deep breath.

“Uh huh. Sure. But she’s loud. She said some pretty bad things about what she’d like to do to Harper.” Dane glances up.

“She is insane.” I usually don’t exaggerate or moan and bitch about Tori, but she’s a burr in my side that I’m ready to be rid of. I should’ve tried harder to cut her out. She’s like a festering wound. The thought that she’d hurt Harper makes me want to do her physical harm.

Not that I’d hit a woman. But Tori needs her mouth taped shut.

“She knows Harper is your neighbor.” Dane nods as if he’s telling me something new.

“Yeah. She came by once when Harper was here.”

Gunner picks up a flyer on my bar and studies it. Poor guy is ready to be on with his fishing day.

Dane shakes his head. “I wonder if she’s bothered Harper. Tori asked me fifty questions about her. I didn’t know most of the answers and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell Tori.”

“I don’t think so.” I flash back to Harper telling Tori that she’s my neighbor. “She was asking last night?”

“Um hm.” Dane looks at the door as if he can see through it and across the hall. “Just thought you’d want to know in case she’s harassing Harper.”

“Thanks man.” I’ll make sure Tori stays away from her.

“So. What do you say we go hit the river? The water’s not too low and you need this. Come on. Gun’s here and I need to work on my tan. You’re looking pretty pasty yourself.”

I stare at the windows and think about Harper. If I sit here any longer, I’ll be tempted to go next door and demand we talk through whatever has happened between us and what she wrote on that postcard.

Two nights ago, I picked up the postcard mess and organized them as I always do. Each postcard tagged with an inventory number I created. It’s a way to match it to the image file on my computer. A way to match a postcard from ‘Betrayed Woman’ to the image file.

Harper took more than my heart across the hall. She stole that fucking postcard.