Page 31 of Happily Never After

What could have possibly happened? Did a pipe burst? Did Rosie get into the Doritos again and spatter the kitchen with doggie napalm? Claire took a deep breath and settled back into her seat. She would know soon enough.

They made a pit stop at the grocery store a mile from Luke’s house when Alice suddenly remembered she had forgotten to instruct Claire to pick up green chiles. The defining characteristic of Alejo Empanadas was that the recipe was never written down. As a result, they were slightly different each time they were made. By the time Luke had pulled up to the garage,Mindy, Sawyer, Nicole, and Kyle were sitting on the front porch. They all looked pointedly at their watches as the car came to a stop. Luke grumbled.

The gang piled into the kitchen, dispersing to their usual spots. Sawyer’s gigantic feet dangled from a bar stool at the island. He pulled out a laptop and checked his work email. Mindy sat next to him, entering data into a spreadsheet. Nicole and Kyle cuddled in the breakfast nook, where he rubbed her shoulders as she ate a piece of dry toast.

A cursory review of the kitchen and living room didn’t reveal any chip-induced diarrhea or exploded pipes. Luke disappeared down the hallway, carefully avoiding eye contact. Something wasn’t right. What the hell was he hiding from her? She moved to follow him but was trapped by Rosie and Winston’s frantic embrace.

Alice picked Winston up and tucked him into the pocket of the apron she had just put on.

Luke stormed back up the hallway, hands balled into fists, paler than he had been a moment before. Claire’s heart leapt into her throat. He stooped down next to Kyle and whispered something to him. Kyle’s mouth fell open, and he immediately pulled out his phone.

Luke stomped up the steps as though each one of them had personally wronged him. What fresh hell was this? Claire flew up the stairs two at a time, hot on his heels. When she arrived in the bedroom, he had already pulled one of her overnight bags out and was tossing clothing into it.

“What are you doing? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“How many pairs of underwear do you need for a long weekend? Eight? Nine?” Piles of multicolor lace were wound between his calloused fingers.

A long weekend? This was hardly the time. There was cause to celebrate, sure, but her To Do list was practically endless.

“Well, it depends. Will I be peeing myself twice a day or only once?”

He grunted and shoved the whole lot in her bag. She touched his shoulder.

“Luke. You’re scaring me. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re going away for the weekend.”

Her stomach twisted itself into knots, and she gripped his shoulder tighter. “You know I can’t do that. There’s too much at stake with Brad’s proposal. Every minute counts. And now I have the gala to plan, not to mention our next couples to pick. If we don’t get all twelve pictures taken and to the printer by Wednesday, we might as well kiss the calendar goodbye.”

“There are worse things.” He opened the drawer where she kept her jeans and threw three pairs in. It would take her ages to get the drawers organized again.

She groaned and threw her hands up. It was like talking to a brick wall. Maybe Kyle would explain.

She took the stairs two at a time. The kitchen was quiet. Everyone was gone. The back of her neck prickled. Where had they gone? And why the hell wouldn’t anyone tell her anything?

She walked down the hallway, past her office to the ballroom. The double doors creaked as she threw them open. Empty. Her shoes clacked across the marble floors as she approached the window.

She came to an abrupt halt. And gasped.

Her friends were crowded around the edge of Luke’s pool. This morning, the pool had still been covered. They hadn’t planned on opening it until May at least. Now, however, the cover had been dragged away and the entire pool was filled with bright red liquid. It couldn’t be blood. Could it?

Next to the pool, a message was scrawled on the concrete.

You’ll pay for this.

Her knees buckled. She staggered and banged off the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the pool. Her friends jumped. Nicole and Mindy rushed inside and clutched at her.

“It’s okay. Everything is going to be fine,” Nicole said, stroking Claire’s hair.

“Who did this?” Claire croaked like she had smoked a pack a day for her entire life.

“You know who it was,” Mindy whispered. She grabbed Claire’s hand as if expecting her to disappear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

To Do:

- Email the Getty

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