Page 75 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
The recipe is relatively safe.
Now, if only my heart were. Because the formula leak isn’t the only leak we had.
A puff piece came out roaring late this morning about Avery’s relationship with Wyatt, Ryder, and me, including suggestive pictures of the four of us.
Laurel’s been busy since we fired her. Been busy for a while, given some of the pictures are from before Avery was poisoned.
IT plans to look into my suspicions that Laurel is at fault for that, too. In the morning. I let them go home early for all of their hard work.
Now, I’m in a full-blown sulk. This feels worse than when I woke up to find her gone.
I won’t let it take as long to find her again. Not over this.
But I hate how she left. I hate how I can’t find her. I drove to her townhouse, but it was empty. Her car wasn’t parked in her spot.
Fuck, she’s never going to come back. Being here without her doesn’t feel right.
My phone dings, and I flip it over in the vain hope that Avery’s texted me back.
It’s my mom.
I break her open. You come now.
My heart kicks up, pulsing blood through me at a roar.
A small kernel of hope blooms in my chest. Leave it to my mother to cut through that Teflon armor Avery hides behind.
Dominick Caruso’s address pops up in our chat.
I stare at my screen for a long minute before I’m on my feet, grabbing my coat and charging to Ryder’s office. He peers up from his desk, looking as haggard as I feel.
“M?found her. Come on.”
He’s shoving his arms through his coat before I finish my sentence, and we take the stairs to grab Wyatt. I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be, driving across town at this time of the day.
Just remember to breathe, dumbass.
The moment Wyatt sees us, he’s heading our way. “You found her.”
I laugh. “You really home in on those facial cues when it comes to Avery.”
Wyatt glares at me. “Wishful thinking, but yes, your body language is triumphant. I’ve seen it before.”
Ryder’s grinning, too. Wyatt’s cheeks redden, but he offers a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
Everything’s locked up, and we’re in my car before the nerves trickle sweat across the back of my neck.
Please don’t shut us out.
The thought runs laps in my head, and every stop light has my foot shaking the car.
Her dad’s house is a one-story Colonial with pretty blue shutters and a carefully landscaped lawn. But when I pull into his driveway, I see that some of the greenery is edible—berry bushes and herb clusters. It makes me laugh, hard, dissipating some of the tension in my shoulders and back.
On the porch, I pick a leftover blackberry and hold it up to the guys, ready to lose it again. I pop it in my mouth before the front door opens to reveal Avery.
Her skin is paler, eyes red, and her frown twists that joy from a moment ago back in itself, forming a sharp knife between my ribs. Avery wraps her arms around herself as she looks us over.
“It was Laurel,” I say, cutting through the awkward silence. “She tried to scrub her computer, but IT caught her. She didn’t get the full formula, either.”
