“You have not responded to my texts for the lasttenhours. Consider this a wellness check.” Her fists knocked demurely against the doorframe. “Open that door.”
Lainey turned over her lifeless phone on the kitchen table. Last night, in her effort to avoid Elliot, she’d forgotten to plug her phone into the charging cable that lived in the kitchen. Between the pregnancy and some highly specific nightmares, Bree had become a bit of a nocturnal animal, so it was certainly possible Lainey had missed a few texts. To her credit, she guessed she’d been asleep for a considerable number of messages anyhow.
Elliot walked over to the entry, then hesitated, whispering, “Should I let her in?”
Bree’s huff traveled through the solid wood door. “Is astrangerweighing in on whether I’m allowed inside my best friend’s house? I’m pregnant! What if I needed medical attention?”
“Doyou need medical attention?” Elliot asked.
“Just open the door,” Lainey instructed. Elliot obeyed.
A red-faced Bree stood on her front porch, her chest rising and falling with angry, heaving breaths. Her eyes scanned the room before slamming into Lainey’s. “Are youmarried?”
She made the wordmarriedsound preposterous, like Lainey’d ventured into circus performing all of a sudden.
“Answer the question.”
“Who told you that?” Lainey asked. A deflection.
“Isaac Segarra added your marriage to the ‘Joys and Sorrows’ section of the Wednesday church bulletin. And that’s not an answer.”
Fucking Isaac.
Lainey looked to Elliot, who was waiting for her to take the lead. Unfortunately for them, Lainey’s tongue had stopped working.
“It’s more of an economic arrangement,” Elliot responded.
Bree wasn’t mollified. Lainey’s best friend might’ve looked sweet, but the bitch was formidable. Her words were practically dripping with venom when she asked, “Did you really think you could marry her to steal her house?”
“No! I mean, I’m not—” Elliot’s shoulders shifted uneasily while Bree stared him down like a predatory bird. “God, your eye contact is unrelenting.”
“She’s aware,” Lainey cut in. If she let things go too far down this path, someone was liable to lose a limb. Smart money was on Elliot. “I’m marrying him for health insurance. His plan covers my medication. In exchange, he can rent out my house. Emphasis onmyhouse. No ownership is changing hands.”
Bree’s eyes cut momentarily to Lainey, offering Elliot a brief reprieve from the full force of her gaze. He was sweating—the correct reaction, by all accounts. “Mr. Hodges, can I have a moment alone with my friend?”
Elliot looked to Lainey. It seemed they were allied against a common foe: Bree’s protective rage. Lainey nodded and tilted her head toward his bedroom, signaling him to give them space. He walked away, coffee mug in hand, glancing back at Lainey before he shut the door.
“What were you thinking?” Bree asked her once Elliot was finally out of earshot.
Lainey let out a long-held breath. “I was thinking that I’m broke, and I need migraine medication, and he has really great insurance.”
Her friend folded her arms over her baby bump. “I can lend you money.”
“I’m not taking your money,” Lainey argued. “It’s only on paper. It’s not like it’s real.”
“Marriage is always real!” Bree’s expression fell somewhere between baffled and downright annoyed. “I married the father of my child, with whom all previous interactions had taken place under the influence of alcohol. I’m pretty sure my parents married each other out of spite. The only thing we all have in common is the veryrealpiece of paper at the center of it.”
“We’re going to get divorced.”
“So you’re stuck going back to your shitty old plan? What do you even want from this?”
“I don’t know. I want…”
Lainey had never allowed herself to plan her life this far in advance before. She didn’t do goals or dreams. She hardly allowed herself to want anything she couldn’t easily get for herself. Depending on anyone else when even her own body could let her down felt a bit like pinning all her hopes on a discounted spell from a three-star Etsy witch. And yet, here she was, making plans that lived and died on the vows of an inconveniently attractive co-conspirator.
“I want him to buy my house. Then I’ll have the money to start over somewhere new. I can travel, just like I always said I would. Camille left a lot to be desired as a mother, but she did give me French citizenship. I can go there…take advantage ofthe French health-care system. See, I’m making plans. That’s growth!”
“You’re hatching schemes, Laine. Schemes are not plans.” Bree pressed her lips together, like she was debating whether to swallow a thought or assault her friend with it. She opted for violence. “I feel like this is Hayden all over again.” She let the words fall out of her mouth as though they weren’t the single cruelest thing she could’ve said.
