This Story Might Save Your Life(35)

“And Xander’s good with that?”

“He’s warming.” In truth, he maintained romantic notions of traditional conception. But I hoped we’d eventually be on the same page. “Nothing is decided yet.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to keep feeling like me.” I said it flippantly, but this may have been the truest statement I’d ever uttered. I’d worked so hard to get to this point. The hormone fluctuations had wreaked havoc on my body and shaken up my trusted medical cocktail. Under the supervision of my doctors, I’d been up and down and in and out and all the way around myself trying to find a new equilibrium. The fact that we’d recently achieved something close was an enormous relief.

“It’s your body,” Benny said.

I sipped my margarita. “I know.”

“Your body.”

“Benny.”

He sighed. “I wanted to be there for you. You have no idea, Joy. I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” I whispered.

He reached out and took my hand.

Later, hours later, I went home and yelled at Xander, and he cried and told me he was sorry, he was only trying to protect me, I was fragile and he didn’t mean for it to go on so long. I didn’t believe him, but I let him hold me anyway, and when he stopped crying, I made him promise he would never do it again, never ever, and he swore on his life that he only ever wanted what was best for me, he loved me so much, so very, very much. He reminded me that it had been rough on him as well, and I eventually gave in because he was right. It was rough on both of us. The only thing to do was move on.

But in this moment, holding Benny’s hand in this twinkle-lit El Coyote booth, I wasn’t thinking of the future or the past. I was thinking only of how grateful I was to be given this second chance.

Benny stared at me as he sipped his margarita, a dreamy expression passing over his face.

I couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“I have this idea,” he said. “For a podcast.”





Benny Abbott


Day Two

“Do you have news?” I ask, gaze shifting rapidly between Keller and Price.

“Not what you’re hoping for,” Keller says. “All right if we come in?”

An oily sensation settles in my stomach as I open the door wider. Richie, thrilled to have a new scent in the house, circles the detectives several times, sniffing and wagging his tail, but Potsie hangs back, cautious. Just as I think he’s warming, he lifts his snout and howls.

I toss a chew toy toward the back rooms as the detectives settle onto the couch. I don’t like the way they look—Keller with her bloodshot eyes, Price as fresh as a newborn, both observing me closely as I approach. I take one of the leather side chairs and wait for them to speak.

“So we’ve finished processing the house,” Keller says.

“Already?” I shift, unsure if this is good or bad news. “And?”

“And what I’d like to focus on right now,” Keller says, “is your relationship with Xander. According to Mallory, things have been somewhat tense between you two these past few months.”

I blink, unsure where she’s going with this. “She’s only been working with us for a few months. It’s not like she’s an expert.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because … seriously? I told you what was going on. The stalker. The viral video—you talked to my idiot neighbor, right? Plus, plus! The toxic food disaster.” I wait for her to acknowledge that none of this is news. That she remembers me telling her all of this yesterday.

She nods. “The energy shakes, yes.”

I am momentarily appeased. “Right. All this within the last few months. So yeah. It hasn’t exactly been a party in our office.”

It’s no wonder I didn’t realize things had gone south in Joy’s marriage.

Keller scoots forward on the couch. Rests her elbows on her knees. “But Xander, specifically. You were upset with him about the energy shake partnership, is that right?”

Oh. My insides squirm. I look away, and my eyes land on the breakfast table, on Joy’s rose-gold computer. Shit.

“Is that right?”

“Um.” I strive to keep my voice level. “He was the one who vouched for the company, but Joy and I took all the blame for plugging it. So yeah, I was upset. But I got over it. I wouldn’t say these past few weeks have been any worse than usual.”

I shouldn’t have added that last part. The stiff leather squawks beneath me as I adjust my posture. I consider deflecting, perhaps telling her about the encrypted file Joy shared with me, but quickly push the thought aside. I’m no longer certain Joy meant it as a clue. Moreover, I’m not sure how to talk about it without admitting Joy’s computer—on which I have yet to find the missing episode—is sitting only a few feet away. Instead, I ask, “What about the tip line? Have any leads panned out?”

“No, but thank you again for sending all of those our way.” Her sarcasm is thick enough to cut. She flips the page in her notepad, and I wait unmoving for whatever is next, knowing it’s not going to be good. “We did a full sweep of their financials, as you know.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “Are you aware there was an attempt at a significant withdrawal from your corporate investment account the evening Xander and Joy went missing?”