Page 52 of The Replacement Wife

That was one problem too many. A dark weight fell on her. All she wanted was to curl up in bed and blink away the rest of this day.

“It’s fine,” Elisa said, barely remembering the subject of the conversation.

Harris looked at her. “What is?”

“Well, no.” Rachel snorted. “It’s not okay that someone took Abby’s things. Josh paid for security. The storage place should have to answer or reimburse you or something.”

They all started talking then. Josh said something about the storage company’s liability and Harris disagreed. Rachel talked about a shirt.

Elisa had enough. “I can’t do this.”

The cell buzzed in her hand again. A few seconds later the voicemail notification dinged. That one might suffer the same fate as the others—deleted without review.

“First, the storage surprise, then I had a run-in with a woman at the school.” She exhaled, trying to focus on one thing and failing. “Let’s just say it’s been a long day.”

“What woman?” Rachel asked.

Elisa ignored the question. She was ignoring a lot right now, so adding one more thing wasn’t a problem. “Nathan was asking about both of you.”

Josh smiled and it looked genuine. “He’s deep in video play.”

Elisa hoped that was true. The idea of Nathan coming in and overhearing this mishmash of nonsense didn’t make her happy.

“Okay.” Rachel visibly tightened her grip on Josh. “Let’s give Harris and Elisa a minute and we’ll go say hello to Nathan.”

Rachel didn’t give Josh an opportunity to agree or disagree. The two of them wandered into the den. Nathan shouted his hello and then the nonstop chatter restarted.

Elisa tried to watch the welcome but Harris stepped in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Why lie? She clearly wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been fine in a long time. With each day she grew more distracted and confused. More convinced Josh couldn’t be trusted.

Lingering in the background, underneath all of that and the facts she was so sure of, was a thread of panic. The very real fear she’d had a break of some sort. Paranoia. Distrust. Frustration. Anxiety. They all whirled around in her head as she fought to catch up and stay clear.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight for a hug. “Tell me what I can do.”

She let her body fall against his as she delivered the bad news. “I just need you to trust me because I think things are going to get bad.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

And that’s what scared her the most. She was alone in this.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Just when Elisa thought a family gathering couldn’t get any more squirm inducing, dinner came along and proved her wrong. Tonight’s feast included baked chicken, green beans, and a heap of deflection. She’d gone out of her way not to mention Meredith. Josh acted like a concerned brother-in-law. Nathan talked about horses. Elisa had no idea what Harris did during dinner because she’d tried very hard not to glance up from her plate.

Hours later, Josh and Rachel finally left. Harris finished up the nighttime rituals with Nathan and was tucking him in. She sat on her bed, looking forward to sending Harris and Nathan off to school and work tomorrow and having a moment alone to think.

This time last year she didn’t doubt her own mind. She knew what she saw and heard. She didn’t panic. Work pissed her off, but that was the nature of work. They were planning for Abby and Josh to get married.

One bullet and she’d been teetering ever since.

Call it survivor’s guilt or PTSD or whatever other termmight fit. It spiked her thinking and made her question her emotions and reactions. She craved stability but didn’t know what that looked like or felt like these days. She settled for existing. For getting through without crumbling.

The secret about Lauren, a previously unknown first wife. Abby’s disappearance. Questions about Candace’s fall on the stairs. The existence of Concerned. The redhead Elisa now knew as Meredith. The pieces spun and jumbled in her mind. Elisa tried to separate them out and concentrate on what she knew to be true, but those lines got fuzzier every day.

Harris walked through the bedroom, taking off his shirt as he walked. “Have you seen my dark blue sweater? I want to wear it to work tomorrow.”

He had nine dark blue sweaters, but the answer was the same for all of them. She managed not to yell in response, which she thought showed a lot of self-control. “Either folded and on a shelf in your closet or in the special laundry bag for sweaters.”

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