Prologue #2
“He doesn’t have a gun.” She paused for a second.
“At least I don’t think. Besides, he’s not cancelling his classes.
It’s probably the longest relationship he’s ever had.
” The elevator was slow, and they watched the old-fashioned dial crawl toward four.
“And even if he does come back early, I have every right to be here. I paid July’s rent. ”
“You have terrible taste in men,” Becca said. “But I love you anyway.”
Then the elevator dinged, and the laugh died in her chest as fast as it had come, the vodka buzz suddenly not enough to cover the nerves beneath it. The hallway on the fourth floor was quiet. She wiped her damp palms on her yoga pants.
“Okay,” she said, and made herself walk toward the door. The key was still on her key ring, and she slipped it into the lock. She’d pictured this moment more than once—Wade’s face when he came home to find her things gone, his stupid organizational systems all thrown into chaos.
The lock gave a soft click and she pushed open the door.
Inside, the condo was still. She’d come home to this condo for the last four months and she’d never felt like an intruder until now.
Something was off. Wade was meticulous about his space.
Everything in its place, surfaces clean, nothing left out or forgotten.
It was the thing she’d found so attractive about him at first—the precision, the sense that he paid attention to everything, including her.
She understood now that the attention had never really been about her at all.
She’d started lining her shoes in the closet the way he liked them, moving her bag to the hook he’d designated for it, apologizing when she left a mug in the sink too long or forgot to straighten the dish towel. She hadn’t noticed how much of herself she’d folded away just to fit.
Paige shook the thought off and made herself step farther inside.
The kitchen light was on. She frowned. Wade was a stickler about turning lights off when you left the room. But the thought dissipated with Becca’s sharp gasp.
“Wow,” Becca said. “No wonder he wanted you to move out.”
Paige saw what Becca was talking about. A pair of black lace panties lay slightly under the couch.
Two days. He hadn’t even waited two days.
She’d suspected there’d been other women, but she’d told herself she was just paranoid. That he wouldn’t have made the commitment of having her move in if he wasn’t serious. When would he have the time? He was always working, and when he wasn’t they were together. Unless she was working.
Dread crawled along her spine and landed somewhere in the pit of her stomach.
That was the thing she was going to have to live with—she’d known and she’d talked herself out of knowing, over and over, for months.
The way he’d kept his phone facedown so she couldn’t see texts.
The late nights he said were client appointments.
After all, isn’t that how they’d met? She’d taken his group classes for months, but he’d seduced her after their first private session right here in this room. She’d thought she’d been special.
“Paige,” Becca said, quietly. “Are you okay?”
“You think she’s still in there?” Paige’s voice came out flat, almost mechanical, like the question belonged to someone else entirely.
“They could both be in there.”
“Not Wade,” she said. “Nothing could make him miss one of his classes. That studio is his baby. He’s obsessed.”
“We should go,” Becca insisted.
“I’m getting my stuff,” she insisted. “And then I’m never setting foot in this place again. It can burn to the ground for all I care.”
“Paige—”
“I didn’t come here to go home empty handed. If you’re not comfortable wait in the hall.” Paige walked toward the bedroom. “The ring was my grandmother’s. It’s mine.”
The bedroom door was cracked open a few inches, just enough for a slice of shadow to fall across the carpet. Paige stopped there, her hand hovering over the knob. He was supposed to be at the studio, but some small, stupid part of her braced for the worst anyway.
“Paige?” Becca’s voice came from somewhere behind her.
She pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Then the light from the bathroom spilled across the floor, and her brain didn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing. Her knees locked, and she grabbed the doorframe with both hands to catch her balance.
Wade was on the floor near the foot of the bed. His eyes were open and blank, and blood had pooled like a dark lake beneath him. So much blood.
Becca appeared at her shoulder, looked past her, and clapped her hand over her mouth. She grabbed Paige’s arm hard enough to hurt.
“I don’t—” Paige started to say, shaking her head. But the words wouldn’t come.
“Come on,” Becca said. “We’ve got to get out of here.” She pulled Paige out of the bedroom and closed the door, the sight of Wade’s lifeless eyes disappearing from view.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Paige said, her face ashen.
“Do it in the hall,” Becca said, pushing her friend back the way they’d come. “Just take deep breaths.”
Paige’s back hit the wall in the hallway. Her legs gave way and she dropped to her knees.
“Dead,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”
“I know.” Becca had both hands on Paige’s face now, making her focus. Her eyes were wide but her voice was level. “I’m calling the police. It’s going to be okay.”
“I didn’t want him to die,” Paige said as the first tears fell. “But I wished for it. Does that make me a bad person?”
Becca didn’t answer. She just pulled out her phone and dialed for help.