“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I regretted it after we hung up.”
I shrug. I wish she hadn’t, but I can’t bring myself to be mad about it. “I’m glad you said something about Savvy and Matt. You’re right that she never would have slept with him.”
She shudders, like just the thought of it grosses her out.
“I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page,” I say. “About never telling anyone about Troy. Ever.”
“We’re on the same page.”
She reaches for the shifter and then stops, pulling her hand back and meeting my gaze again. “I wish she’d told me that you knew too.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought that you didn’t really know her. Most people didn’t really know Savvy.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“I should have guessed, though. You were different than her other friends. She stopped hating Plumpton so much after you moved back. She was happier.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. I knew this, but it feels different, coming from Maya. Like it’s actually true, and not just a wild hope. I have to close my eyes and take a breath, because for a moment I miss Savvy so much that it physically hurts.
“I was happier too,” I say quietly.
I look up at Maya to see her roughly wiping away tears. We share a sad smile.
She clears her throat and throws the car in reverse. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to catch the asshole who did it, okay? Savvy deserves that much.”
“I promise.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LUCY
I text Ben the next morning as I get in my car. I turn the key in the ignition, the warm air blasting in my face as the car starts.
I’m going to Matt’s. If I turn up dead, do a podcast about my murder.
He hasn’t responded by the time I pull up in front of my old house.
I bound up the front walkway before I can change my mind. This is probably a deeply stupid idea, but Matt won’t answer my calls, and if I don’t confront him soon, I’m going to explode.
“Let’s kill your husband.”
Shush, Savvy. We’re not murdering anyone today.
The door swings open before I reach it, and I stop short.
A woman steps out, dragging two large suitcases behind her. She’s tiny—five feet, maybe—and she struggles with the bags, which probably weigh more than she does. One of them topples over on its side and she curses.
“You want some help?” I ask.
Her head snaps up. Her eyes are blue, and bloodshot. The red curls she has tied up in a bun are coming loose, hanging over one shoulder. She’s a mess, but still stunning.
She stares at me.
“Wife number two?” I guess.
“Julia,” she says.
“Lucy.”
“I know.”
She hasn’t answered my question about help, but I grab the toppled bag anyway. We drag them to the Lexus in the driveway and I help her load them both in the trunk. She slams it shut and turns to me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I need to talk to Matt.”
“About what?”
That seems intrusive, considering we just met, but I guess she’s still technically married to the man.
“Murder.”
She bursts into tears.
My phone buzzes, and I don’t know what to do about this crying replacement wife, so I open my purse and glance at the screen. There are two texts from Ben.
THAT’S NOT FUNNY.
Are you really at Matt’s right now?
Julia sniffles, drawing my attention back to her. She grabs my hands. Hers are very cold, which is weird in this weather.
“Don’t go in there,” she says. “He’s in a bad mood.”
I’ll bet he is. My phone buzzes again.
“Let me help you,” she continues.
I cock my head, confused. “Help me?”
“You know that podcaster, right? I want to talk to him.”
* * *
Ben and Paige meet us in his hotel room. I want to leave, but Julia keeps tearfully looking at me like we’re in this together.
I avoid Ben’s gaze as we step into the room and Paige introduces them. Maybe I’m worried that both Paige and Julia will immediately know we’re having sex if I look at him.
Maybe I’m just really, really annoyed that the man I’m sleeping with has so much information about my life, and now he’s going to have so much information about my marriage. I miss Nathan, and that glazed, far-off look he got when I was speaking.