Page 106 of Married to Lies

Smiling, I looked over my shoulder toward the guy at the coffee counter. He put his hands over his heart like he’d been wounded and pretended to stumble around. All this time, I thought his flirting had been for fun, but his actions made me wonder if he’d really liked me.

“You’ll find the one,” I assured him regardless.

That must have sparked an idea because he mumbled something incoherent and instantly started scribbling in his notebook again.

Coretta said, “Better get while the getting’s good.”

I followed her to the front door, seeing her car waiting in street-side parking. Conversation flowed easily between us all the way to the department store where we went down all the aisles. We joked about phrases printed on pillows, shared good deals on the tags (even though neither of us really needed to shop on sale, thanks to Quentin), and stashed things into the cart to help “womanize” Quentin’s home. I internally giggled every time she used the word.

We’d been having a good time when her nails dug into my hands and she yanked me around an aisle, hissing, “DUCK!”

I stared at her wildly as we crouched. “What’s going on?” My mind instantly went to an active shooter situation or a robbery. “Do I need to call the cops?”

“It’s Claire.” She held on to a shelf, trying to catch her breath with her eyes closed. “I don’t want to spend a second of my time looking at that woman.”

“The Claire?” I asked. “Quentin’s ex?”

She nodded, lips pursed tight.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I whispered, “Let me make sure she’s not coming this way.”

“Okay,” Coretta exhaled.

Carefully, I looked around the corner of the aisle. But I didn’t see Claire.

I saw Courtneigh.

49 Rei

My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I thought I might puke.

“We need to go. Now,” Coretta said. She pressed herself up and we hurried down the next aisle, abandoning our cart to rush outside.

Even though my mind still hadn’t caught up, I chased behind her, amazed at how quickly the woman could move. The driver pulled up instantly like he’d been watching for us. As soon as we were in the back seat, Coretta said, “Take us to my home.” Her breath came in quick pants. “I’m going to need a drink after that.”

I huffed out a breathless, humorless laugh. “I’m going to need a drink… and an explanation.”

She gave me a meaningful look, darting her eyes toward the driver, and said, “I’ve prepared a meal at home. No restaurant can cook like me.”

I nodded like I believed her, but that was the end of the conversation until we were inside her house. She brought me to the empty dining area, explaining that Charles was out with friends and that it was just the two of us.

Then she opened a cabinet full of different types of liquor and poured us drinks. “Espresso martini,” she said, handing me a glass with the dark liquid sloshing inside.

She took a deep drink, and then another.

“Coretta,” I said, concerned. “What is going on?”

Her lips pursed. “I should really let Quentin tell you.”

My head recoiled. “Quentin’s gone for another day and a half! You can’t let my brain have that long to come up with every terrible possibility. Please, Coretta.”

She took another sip, cup already half-empty. She seemed to decide something. “I will tell you, but only if you let him tell you in his own time.”

I nodded, needing to know the truth about Courtneigh—Claire. She was related to Conrad’s plan somehow. Had to be.

“Claire and Quentin used to work at a bank together,” Coretta began. “Before Quentin started at MyHome. Quentin was the controller, and she the assistant controller.” She rushed it out like just saying the words was painful.

I nodded, encouraging her to continue.