On the other end of the phone, Cat said nothing, and I knew that this—me with both of our men—was killing her. I sat back in my seat and smiled. “Will?” I called out sweetly. “Would you mind stopping on the way so we can grab something to eat?”
“I’ve already got food here,” Cat broke in crisply. “William, Philip just made lobster rolls and those cheese biscuits you love.”
William perked up, she blabbed on and on about their gourmet lunch, and I was ready to gag by the time they finished theirI love yous and hung up the phone. It wasn’t natural, how often they said it. As a semi–health professional, I could recognize the insecurity in the gesture, the constant need to verify the feelings a giant red exclamation point of concern. If I were a marriage counselor, I’d tell them to hold back the words and show their love more with actions. I’d also pull William aside and make it clear that he could do much, much better.
We started up the hill, into the neighborhood, and I looked out the window, watching as the landscape passed by. In the front seat, the men started a heated conversation about the 49ers’ chances of a playoff run. I listened to them talk, laughter and insults slinging between the front seats, and wondered if William felt guilty toward Matt, about our kiss. Or was he like me and turned on by the close association and risk?
I didn’t know yet, but I would soon. If there was guilt, I’d massage it. I’d invent and provide a justification for our actions. And if it aroused him, I’d play up that angle, too. Increase the danger and heighten the stakes.
Either way, he didn’t have a chance.
NEENA
Now
“According to employees at Winthorpe Tech, you and William Winthorpe started to spend more and more time together and conducted most of your meetings in the boardroom.” The detective looked up from her notebook. “Were you meeting in the boardroom because it was more private?”
I thought of the first time we’d had sex, just one week after Matt’s fall from the balcony. My skirt pushed up around my hips. His dress slacks unzipped. A pen rolling off the table. It had been quick. Dirty. Sexually unsatisfying but emotionally breathtaking.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to allude to,” I said stiffly. “You already know that we had an affair. If you missed it somehow, you need a new job. Cat has made sure that everyone in town knows.” They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Cat had been a shining example of that mantra.
“You’re right, Neena. We have proof that you seduced Ned Plymouth. Proof that you seduced William Winthorpe. Let’s jump right ahead to the meat of the matter.” She sat on the edge of the table, close enough to touch me, and folded her arms over her scrawny chest. “When did you decide your husband needed to die?”
PART 4
AUGUST
ONE MONTH EARLIER
CHAPTER 30
CAT
“I swear, I literally couldn’t listen to another one of that woman’s stories. They were disgusting. If you’d been stuck beside her on an international flight, you’d have done the same thing.”
William shook with silent laughter, the glass never making it to his lips before he had to set it down. Holding up a hand, he tried to speak. “I—I wouldn’t have. I would have smiled politely and listened to every story.”
“Oh, bull,” I sputtered, leaning back as the waiter set a strawberry shortcake before me. “You would not. During the playground orgy story, you would have found an excuse. Maybe not a ghost on a plane—”
“Definitely not a ghost on a plane.” He brought the chocolate torte closer to him. “I would have gone to the bathroom.”
“I did that,” I pointed out. “I went to the bathroom, came back, and she dived right back into her stories.”
I dipped my fork through the six layers of shortcake and cream, watching as the white-gloved staff set down more desserts. After two days of a juice cleanse, we’d thrown caution to the wind and proclaimed ourselves deserving of a drinks-and-desserts date. Two bottles of champagne in, we were laughing through a memory of a promiscuous grandmother I’d gotten stuck next to on an eleven-hour flight to London. Running out of options, I started screaming that I saw a ghost sitting in her lap. The flustered first-class flight attendants had assured me that there was no ghost, but I’d stuck to my guns until they moved me to a different seat.
He lifted his glass to me. “Here’s to being blacklisted from American Airlines.”
“Well worth it.” I tapped mine against his. “Plus, it prompted the jet purchase.” I grinned at him. “Which may have been my evil plan the entire time.”
He smiled. “I love you so much.”
I leaned over the table and stole a kiss.
We were watching the bananas Foster presentation when he dropped the bomb. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m ready to think outside the box with starting a family.”
It was such an unexpected statement that I choked, a chunk of strawberry lodged in my throat. I took a long sip of water and managed, my stomach coiling in protest against whatever he was about to say. I couldn’t do a surrogate. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“I’m willing to consider adoption.”