Page 136 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

I’m so excited to go home.

‘I can!’ I say. ‘I absolutely can.’

‘Let me know when you’ll be back. I’m going to arrange a brunch for us. With Maisie. Even if we have to take it to her house. Even if …’ She trails off again and moves out of view of her camera. I wonder what’s going on but then I hear her crying. Big gulping sobs. The soundtrack of relief. After a moment or two, she appears back on the screen. ‘Did he know?’ she says, dabbing at her face with her sleeve. ‘Did he know what was happening?’

I nod. ‘Oh yes. He absolutely knew what was happening. And why.’

‘Did he suffer?’

I think for a second. Is she asking me because even though she wanted him dead, she wanted it quick and painless? Or is she asking because she wants me to tell her that he suffered for every single second of suffering he put her through? For every minute she was in the hospital. For every panic attack she had when she came home. For the physical pain he inflicted on her body. And the emotional pain that has kept her broken and housebound ever since his brutal attack.

‘He suffered,’ I say. ‘He spent his last minutes hoping for death. Knowing it would be the only relief.’

She beams again. ‘Good,’ she says. ‘I’m glad.’

‘He deserved every bit of it,’ I say.

‘And you’re absolutely sure he’s definitely gone? There’s not going to be some weird encore to this where he pops up again somehow?’

I laugh. ‘You watch too many slasher films. He’s gone. Do you want me to bring you a finger to prove it?’

Now she laughs. ‘Have fun explaining that at customs.’

There’s silence again, the kind of silence you can only ever have with someone who knows you inside and out. Someone who has seen every single one of your flaws and dark moments and loves you, not in spite of them, but because of them.

‘So, have you told Charlie you’re pregnant yet?’

And my world spins off its axis.

‘What? What are you talking about?’

Tor lets out a bark of laughter. ‘Oh come on, Kits. You don’t need to play dumb with me. I’ve been with Maisie day in and day out. I think I can spot a pregnant queen when I see one.’

I stare at her. ‘I’m not pregnant …’ Am I?

But then I think about the last few weeks. The sickness and tiredness I put down to jet lag. The irritability that I put down to forced proximity with a Gen Z-er. The aversion to alcohol. The literal vomiting at a murder scene.

‘Wait,’ I say to Tor and I swipe on my period tracker app on my phone. When was the last time I bled? Shit. I haven’t had a period in almost two months. How have I not realised that? My hand shoots down to my abdomen. Could I be?

‘You didn’t know?’ Tor says but I can barely hear her. This can’t be happening. This isn’t part of the plan. I don’t even know if I want kids. How could I be a mother? I am not a creator of life, I’m a taker of it. No, no, no.

I look at my best friend again, who is staring back at me, her eyes huge with concern.

‘Fuck.’ I say. ‘Fuck.’

73

Musso and Frank, Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles

‘Thanks for coming,’ Antoinette says after we’ve been seated in our booth and handed our menus. ‘I’ve always wanted to come here.’

It’s lunchtime, Charlie and I fly home later today and my sister begged me to come for lunch with her before we do, just the two of us.

‘You don’t need to thank me,’ I say. ‘I’m your sister. I love having time just the two of us. I know I’ve been sort of glued to Charlie since he arrived but I’ll always make time for you. You know that.’

Antoinette smiles. ‘That’s great to know,’ she says, ‘but I meant thanks for coming here. It’s not exactly the restaurant of choice for vegans.’

She’s right.