Page 69 of The Weekend Getaway

“No, what did you mean?” Sarah asked, placing her half-empty glass on the table, leaning toward Grace. “Be glad I’m not sure?—”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” Grace said, looking away, glancing around the upscale café where they’d met, a quaint place designed to look like a Parisian bistro with chandeliers, trompe l’oeil wallpaper, and Louis XIV inspired décor.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

“Sarah, please,” Grace said, her gaze imploring. “Forget I said anything.”

“Tell me why you said that,” Sarah demanded.

Shaking her head, Grace looked away. “The night of Phil’s party, when you didn’t feel well …”

Her heart slamming, Sarah urged Grace to go on.

Exhaling, blinking back tears, Grace said, “You were feeling dizzy because … Mia put something in your drink.”

Sarah stalked back to the wardrobe, pushing the angry, depressing memories away. When Grace had told her that Mia slipped GHB in her shot, Sarah had wanted to kill Mia. Or at least confront her. Demand to know why Mia had done it. But she hadn’t done any of those things. And she didn’t know why. Maybe, at the time, she didn’t know how. And as time passed, maybe she’d convinced herself that it didn’t matter.

Grabbing more clothes from the wardrobe, Sarah shuttered.

She was saddened and filled with rage when she thought about what Mia had done. The bitch could have killed her that night.

Sarah froze.

She might be dead now, if Mia had given her too much of the drug, causing her to overdose.

But Mia was dead.

Sarah closed her eyes, fighting tears. Mia didn’t deserve them. Why should she cry for a miserable bitch who hated her? Who had never been a friend to her? She hated the conflicting feelings warring within her. She was heartbroken and at the same time, she didn’t give a damn.

Sarah stuffed the clothes into the suitcase, not bothering to fold anything.

She needed to get the hell off the island. Jason had called the water taxi. She would finish packing, then join him downstairs, and?—

“Sarah …?”

She froze, a chill slithering down her back.

Slowly, her heart slamming, Sarah turned.

Chris stumbled toward her...

CHAPTER 62

PHIL

Phil’s eyes fluttered open, then closed.

He tried to open them again, but it was difficult. Like trying to open his eyes underwater. Or forcing himself to wake up from a dream. It was like pushing through something. Or against something. And he was tired. Frustrated. He had the vague feeling of trying to wake up once before. And maybe he had.

Phil swallowed. His head hurt. Did someone hit him? Turning his head, Phil winced. Had someone hit him in the head? If so, who? And when? He didn’t know. Couldn’t remember.

But he did remember … what?

What was the last thing he remembered before … what? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his head hurt and he couldn’t remember shit except he’d been talking to…

Talking to who … ?

Alex’s image floated in his mind.

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