Chapter 39
Aubrey
Monday Morning
Four Days After the Outing
Aubrey presses the rock from Ethan between her palms. If she had an ounce of the athletic skill of any of her siblings, she’d
have tossed it through Ethan’s window last night. Except it wasn’t his window, it was his fiancée’s. And that’s the reason
why, even if she had any skill, she wouldn’t have thrown anything.
“Aubrey?” Mallory’s tone is hesitant, unsure, and Aubrey slips the rock into her pocket. “Are we ready? We’re ready, right?”
Aubrey can’t look at her. They can go over their story a hundred more times and still never be ready to be interrogated by
the police. Mallory’s father found Grayson. This investigation is no longer that of a missing person.
“Sure, of course,” Aubrey says, knowing her face will show the opposite. But Mallory simply nods absentmindedly as she hugs
her arms to her chest and lowers herself onto the sofa. Still. Silent.
Beyond the glass door of Mallory’s office, AIM buzzes with energy.
The typical Monday sluggishness, the trickling in of employees still hungover from weekends at bars or binge-watching or both, has been replaced with an urgency, an air of anticipation and excitement because this is not a typical Monday.
It’s the Monday before AIM makes history.
If its founders don’t get arrested first.
“This is happening,” Mallory says. “Grayson and—” She hugs her arms tighter, but it can’t stop her body from shaking. “We
have to deal with this, actually deal with this?”
The tremor in Mallory’s voice scares Aubrey. “I’ll go find Ilena.”
“No.” Mallory’s head snaps up. “Don’t leave.”
Aubrey always thought that Mallory could handle anything. But this isn’t just anything. This is murder. Of someone she obviously
cared about. Aubrey’s heartbeat echoes in her ears, and she sends Ilena a quick text. She sits beside Mallory, resting her
hand on Mallory’s leg, which doesn’t seem like Mallory’s leg, encased in these pink-and-white-striped pants. Aubrey realizes
that she’s not the only one who’s been wearing someone else’s clothes. All three of them have been. But Aubrey’s the only
one they seem to fit.
“Ethan really hit on you, didn’t he?” Aubrey says suddenly. But she knows the answer. She always did, didn’t she?
A month after Aubrey and Ethan had started dating, he’d said one of the things he liked most about Aubrey was how easygoing
she was, that he didn’t have to be a ballet dancer—always on tiptoes—like he’d been with other girls. Girls. Not women, Aubrey
just realizes. He’d finish her fries without asking if she were done, saying her bikini would thank him. Then he’d laugh at
how witty he was, and she would laugh too because it wasn’t untrue. But it was inappropriate. And mean. No, cruel, it was
cruel.
Maybe this Aubrey had seen that right away. Maybe that’s why one date never became two. With a flush that spreads down her
neck, Aubrey tells Mallory about Ethan and Lauren Stevens and the shame of apparently being Ethan’s mistress.
“I pushed it,” Aubrey says. “I had to know if we were supposed to be together, because if we weren’t, then that would mean that I . . .”
“He didn’t cheat because of you, and he didn’t die because of you.” Mallory’s words tumble out.
Aubrey studies her perfect cuticles. “I texted him. I’m the reason he wasn’t paying attention.”
“No, just no. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It was an accident. None of us could have prevented it even if we’d . . .”
Mallory shakes her head, the stress of today, of all of this, turning her into a version of herself that Aubrey doesn’t recognize.
“You should never have blamed yourself. But you were, and Ilena and I should have seen it. We failed you, Aubrey, and that’s
unforgivable.”
“It’s not, it’s okay, really.”
“No, it’s not!” Mallory is suddenly a fire hose of sweat, and she’s chomping on her lower lip like it’s a steak. “Wrong, it’s
all been so wrong and gone so wrong, and we’ve been wrong. For so long, from the very beginning. I’m not sure I’ll ever be
able to make it right in any world.”
“Mallory, don’t—”
“Christ, I don’t take ownership of anything. Let me own this.”
Aubrey hesitates, her feelings all twisted and tumbled like sheets in a dryer. Mallory’s her best friend, Ilena too, and they
would never hurt her intentionally. But they never fully accepted Ethan—and, well, yes, that hurt. Maybe they didn’t like
him, maybe they didn’t have reason to mourn him the way she did, maybe they couldn’t understand why Aubrey would, because
maybe they realized who Ethan was. But they didn’t have to mourn Ethan for Ethan. They had to mourn Ethan for her.
Mallory takes Aubrey’s hand. “I’m sorry, Aubrey. That’s not what best friends do.”
Their fingers entwine, and for the first time in all these years of being together, Aubrey truly feels like she belongs. They’re close enough friends to fail one another. And be forgiven.
Aubrey squeezes Mallory’s hand so tightly, it hurts them both, but neither lets go.
“Fuck Ethan,” Mallory says. “You deserve to be loved by someone who forgets to breathe when you walk into a room.”
“Yeah, I think, I mean, I do. That’s exactly what I deserve.”
Through the glass door, AIM stills. Three uniformed police officers stand before Noreen’s desk.
Mallory releases Aubrey’s hand. “I was sleeping with him. Grayson.”
Aubrey nods, not surprised.
“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought it would undermine my credibility. And I guess I also thought it was just sex. Spectacular
sex, granted, but just sex.”
“But?”
“It maybe wasn’t just sex.”
Aubrey’s heart lifts with happiness for Mallory before she realizes that whatever Mallory had, she lost it too.
“I hope I didn’t do it on purpose,” Mallory whispers.
“Me too,” Aubrey says. “But if you did, we’ll deal with it together.”
As Noreen assists the police officers, Harley scurries to the office door. But then, there’s Kai, scooping up the dog and
soothing him with long strokes through his soft fur. Aubrey smiles at him. And despite the hot-and-cold game she’s been inadvertently
playing the past few days, he smiles back. She likes him. Plain and simple. No pro-con list needed. She doesn’t have to question
it.
What she does have to question is what comes next.