Page 29 of The Widow's Husband's Secret Lie
And nobody will be looking for Grant, since everybody already thinks he is dead. Although I still have to deal with Detective Mancini.
Together, we pick him up and throw him into the shallow grave. He’s still wearing his fancy suit, and even though all the muscles of his body have relaxed in death, he is still clutching that blue-and-black dress in his right hand.
“You will never, ever let it go, will you?” I murmur.
He doesn’t answer.
We don’t stop to say a few words in his honor. We quickly shovel the dirt back into the grave, covering my husband’s body. Only when we have scooped the last of the dirt back into thehole and smoothed over his grave does Poppy lay a hand on my shoulder.
“Alice,” she says, “you’re holding your breath.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Oh my gosh!” I clasp a hand to my chest. “I hadn’t even realized it! Thanks for letting me know.”
I let out the breath. It’s finally over. Thank God.
Poppy and I are both caked in dirt and blood. She brushes off her hands on her yoga pants and then examines them critically. “Do you mind if I take a shower before I go home? I’d rather my husband didn’t see me walking in with my hands covered in blood.”
“Sure,” I say. “And I’ve got a clean dress you can put on when you’re done.”
I’m going to give Poppy the blue-and-black dress that I’ve been keeping in my closet as a reminder of what Grant did to me in case I ever decided it was a mistake to get rid of him. After killing my husband twice, I don’t need that reminder anymore.
We climb the stairs to the bedroom, and Poppy showers in my master bathroom. My hands are covered in blisters from the shovel, my fingernails caked with dirt. I’m going to take a long, hot shower after Poppy is done, but no amount of hot water will get rid of the damage.
On top of the dresser are the pair of jeans and the T-shirt that Grant was wearing when he first walked in. I’ll have to burn them. I pick up the jeans, and Grant’s wallet falls out of the back pocket, dropping to the floor. I look at it for a second, debating whether I should get rid of it. But then I shove it into the top drawer of my dresser. Something tells me there’s a chance I might need it someday.
The running water in the shower sputters to a halt. After a few moments of rustling inside the bathroom, the door burstsopen so quickly that it slams into the wall. Poppy has a towel wrapped around her chest, her damp hair dripping onto the bedroom carpet, and she looks furious.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Alice?” she cries as she shakes something in my face.
I frown at her. “What are you talking about?”
Then I realize what she has in her hand. It’s the pregnancy test that I threw in the trash. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I did tell you!” I might be forgetting things, but I remember our conversation. “I told you I was pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” She looks down at the test in her hand and then back at my face. “Alice, this is a Covid test.”
“What?” I gasp. “How could that be?”
“It literally saysCovid-19 Agright on the test!”
“It does?” Wow, maybe it’s time for reading glasses.
Poppy lets out a huff. “You didn’t really think this was a pregnancy test, did you?”
“Well…” I chew on my lower lip. “I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I just grabbed one of the tests that showed the two blue lines on the box. Ididthink it was a little strange that I had to swab my nose to check for pregnancy.”
Huh. It looks like those LED lights worked after all. I can’t believe I’m not really pregnant. I wonder why I was so nauseous—I guess it was the tea.
Poppy grits her teeth. “Oh my God, I cannotbelieveyou have Covid.”
“Now that you mention it, I did have a little bit of a runny nose and sore throat…”
“Ugh, and I have a wedding to go to in a few days. This is just great. The perfect end to this day, seriously.”
