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Mother laughs at me. A chuckle. A crinkle of her nose. It’s harsh, like she’s enjoying my pain. She likes when I learn lessons the hard way.
“Hmm.” She pauses at the door. “Whatever you did with him, you must not have been very good at it.”
I didn’t respond.
I thought she was right.
She would know.
“But don’t worry, bunny, practice makes perfect,” she added with a smile, before leaving me alone onceagain.
CHAPTER
9
GALE’S FILE ONCollin was so enormous because she was beyond obsessed with him. Most of the information was rather innocuous because Collin was Collin, but apparently she wanted all of it in one place. Every single magazine and newspaper article about him was in that file. Not just the recent profiles fromForbesorFortuneorTown & Country, but even brief mentions, dating back to the early 2000s, that outlined his efforts at prep school lacrosse games, for example.
The file also contained the information about his episodes of clinical depression, formally diagnosed by the Case family doctor when he was a teenager. Collin had actually been up front with me about it when we started dating. He had been on and off various meds over the years but had yet to see a behavioral therapist about it. Likely because people like Hayes and Haven Case didn’t actually believe in therapy, they believed in prescriptions. Regardless, I wasn’t deterred.I actually liked that he was a modern man, disclosing the state of his health with his future wife. I could handle it. Who among us hasn’t had a bout with mental illness?
As it turned out there also were a few bits and bobs about me within Collin’s file. Brief mentions in the ad trades, a basic printout of my former addresses dating back six years or so, not just my PO Box—so shedidknow about Morris and company; fine—and a few of my headshots printed out from the agency’s team page. That was it? Gale. You have nothing!
•••
SATURDAY ARRIVED ANDI was off to Connecticut. I had never been to Collin’s family home without him before. I was dreading it, since I would have no one on my side. Well, except for true buffoon Wren Daly. Haven sent a car for us; a tortuous forty-five minutes awaited me. I’d be forced to make idle chitchat with someone I usually spent time with soaked in sweat on a stationary bike, rarely speaking much at all. My preference. Chloe and Gale would already be at the compound, under the guise of preparing for the afternoon tea, but I knew it was because neither wanted to traverse alongside me. A silver lining.
Wren practically climaxed when the car arrived, manned by a stout, mustachioed gentleman. He donned a little hat and everything. Her ballooning lips fell open at the sight. “Oh my God,look at him! Bea! I thought we were just Ubering!”
“Collin’s mother insisted.” I smiled. Wren took my hands, squeezing them. I counted the seconds until she finally let go.
“I’m dying to meet her. I bet she’s fabulous!” Wren crowed. I knew Haven would absolutely loathe Wren Daly and take as many subtle jabs aloud in her direction as she saw fit. Though she would likely, butincorrectly, put Wren and me in the same social bracket, I hoped Haven would ease up on me with some fresh blood to suck instead. A break in the clouds for the day ahead, for both of us. Because I knew Wren and I were not the same. Not in the slightest. Wren Daly couldnever.
A bottle of bubbly had been popped for us in the rear of the vehicle, compliments of Collin, and allegedly Hayes, though I’m sure he had no idea the tea was even occurring. But I wasn’t above a cheeky noontime tipple, so I nodded when the driver asked if he could pour us each a glass before we set off.
“Cheers, girl!” Wren clinked her glass against mine and took an aggressive first sip of the champagne. Here we go. I had a feeling that the day was going to be extra difficult for Wren, since she was freshly dumped by a software engineer she had met on Hinge the year before. “I swear I thought he was gonna be good for me! I thought he would broaden my horizons, like, beyond the fitness sphere.” When Wren saidsphereher lips looked especially outrageous. A botched job she probably received gratis in exchange for a social post. Tragic. “Braden said all we had in common was sex, like that was a problem?” Wren droned on and on. “And like, isn’t sharing yourdifferentinterests part of a healthy relationship?”
“He’s a loser, Wren.” I had to humor her. “What man wouldn’t want to be with an absolute goddess like you?” Speaking Wren’s language was easy enough for me. I just didn’t want to actively have to do it. Wren was beyond dull, but she was desperate to be my friend and I happened to have an opening so I prepared myself to listen to her insufferable chatter. She was a woman who fully subscribed to being a “girl’s girl” in the emptiest way possible. She proclaimed about wanting to lift women up, called themqueens, preached being “healthy” over “skinny” as if her clavicle wasn’t a lethal weapon, loveand light.Alwayslove and light. I refilled her glass so she would keep drinking and keep talking. Then I only had to half-heartedly listen with a fake smile smacked upon my face for the duration of our journey.
“That’s right.” She grinned as I poured. “I don’t think I could get serious with another man in tech again. Too in their heads, but like, weirdly shallow at the same time. I just wanna have fun and find my best friend. Like you and Collin!”
“That’s sweet, but you know a man can’t be your best friend, Wren.”
“What are you talking about, yes they can, that’s the whole point!”
“Collin isn’t my best friend,” I said.
“I bet you’re his best friend.”
Oh my God, could we please stop sayingbest friend?
“I’m actually not,” I corrected her. “But you’re going to meet her shortly.”
“STAHP,” she honked, her jaw going slack, resembling a sex doll.
“Seriously. Gale is his friend from childhood,” I said. “She also just went through a breakup and I know it might seem unwise under normal circumstances, but trust me, you should totally ask her about it. You know how good it feels to bitch about your exes with someone else feeling just as miserable as you are.” Wren nodded along, downing even more champagne. Perfection. Gale would hate Wren, too, but I suspected the feeling would be mutual and I was eager to see their meet-cute in real time.
“So whoisyour best friend?” Wren asked me, eagerly hoping for reassurance it was her. As if.
“She’s dead,” I said, my default reply to such questions. A normal person would give their condolences and move on, but it slipped my mind in the moment that Wren was anything but normal.
