Page 163 of Every Time I Go on Vacation, Someone Dies

She dips her head way. “Are you mad?”

“No, of course not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m more… concerned?”

“It was stupid.”

I smile at her. “I made the same mistake.”

“I thought he was going to be different… I know this sounds weird, but we were friends. That’s why I let him read my stuff. And then…”

“You were feeling vulnerable.”

“Yeah.”

How did I not know this, I want to ask, but there’ll be time enough eventually for me to learn all the gory details if I want them.

Ugh, no.

“When did you become friends?”

Harper sighs. “You were busy writing, and LA can be lonely sometimes. So many of the people we grew up with are…”

“Different?”

“Married. Or in the business like Emma or… I just don’t have a lot in common with them.”

“And Connor? You have things in common with him?”

“We’re both in your orbit, so yeah. We can relate.”

Famous adjacent, she means. I know the feeling. I have friends in the business, like my best friend, Emma,200 and when I’m around her, especially in public, it can be weird. I only get recognized when I’m at an event for one of my books, and usually not even then. But Emma is different. People know who she is and have no compunction about coming up to her in any circumstance, including the bathroom, to tell her how much they love her or get an autograph. People are weird.

I know what it’s like to be around someone who sucks all of the oxygen out of the room, is all I’m saying.

“I want better for you than him.”

“Me too.”

“So, we really are okay?”

She leans her head against mine and says, “Pineapple.”

It’s not a rebuke this time; it’s a reprieve. So I don’t ask her anything more. Instead, I change the subject.

“What do you think she’s going to tell us next?” I nod toward Sylvie.

“No idea.”

Harper’s phone buzzes in my hand.

It’s a news alert: “Bestselling author Abishek Botha dies on a yacht in Capri. Death being investigated as possible homicide.”

Ah, hell.

I’m about to show it to Harper when everyone’s phones start to buzz, like plops of rain hitting a metal roof.

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