49. Cassidy
CASSIDY
T he morning sun glared through the windshield, making my pounding head throb even more. I’d had way too much wine at Michelle’s to drive home, so I’d crashed in her spare room. We’d had coffee and plain toast for breakfast, and I’d left soon after. But I guess I’d made a friend for life in Michelle, because we’d already planned to catch up again.
I adjusted the visor and tightened my grip on the steering wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But my thoughts were louder than the hum of the engine.
Harle.
Michelle’s words rang in my ears: Don’t be afraid to love again.
Easy for her to say. She’d taken the leap, let herself trust someone new. But me? I wasn’t sure I had that kind of bravery in me. And yet… the thought of never seeing Harle again hurt worse than anything I’d been running from.
I turned onto my street, my house coming into view. And then I froze.
Every single one of my friends was crowded on my veranda, looking like they were about to stage an intervention.
Well, shit.
They all watched as I pulled into the drive. Stepping out of the car, I squinted against the sun, ignoring the queasy churn in my stomach. “What’s going on?”
“You haven’t answered your phone or replied to any of our texts,” Hannah said, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We were about to send out a search party.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” I fumbled for my purse where my phone lay dead and forgotten. “I was...” The words dried up in my throat. How exactly do you casually mention you spent the night bonding with your ex-husband’s other wife?
“Inside,” I managed, waving toward the house. “Coffee first. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
“Everything?” Emily’s brows shot up as I moved by her, unlocking the front door and pushing it open.
“Everything,” I confirmed, my chest tight with the weight of secrets I’d kept for far too long. “Just let me shower first. I smell like wine and bad decisions.”
“Honey, that’s just our natural perfume,” Mia called after me as I headed for my bedroom.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I tried to organize my thoughts, but they kept circling back to one truth: I was tired of carrying this alone. Tired of the half-truths and careful omissions. Tired of letting my past get in the way of my future, too.
When I came out ten minutes later, freshly dressed and marginally more human, the girls had arranged themselves in my living room like a jury about to hear a capital case. Maya pressed a steaming mug into my hands and guided me to the empty armchair they’d clearly designated as the hot seat.
They sat, forming a semi-circle around me. The expectant silence hung heavy, and for a moment, I didn’t know where to start.
My mouth opened, then closed. “Fuck, this is even harder than I thought.”
Poppy leaned forward, her pink hair falling into her eyes. “Cassidy, it’s us. Whatever it is, we’re here for you.”
They all nodded in agreement, giving me all the encouragement I needed.
Clutching my coffee mug like a lifeline, I began. “Okay. You all know about Brian. How I thought I married the perfect guy. How it turned out he was... not.”
“That asshole,” Mia muttered, while Emily reached over to squeeze her hand.
“The thing is, you don’t know the whole story. No one does.” I looked at Hannah. “Not even you.”
Hannah’s face softened, all traces of her earlier irritation vanishing. “Tell us, Cass.”
The story spilled out then, like a dam breaking. Brian’s other wife, the house in Wilson, the careful web of lies he’d woven. With each word, the weight I’d been carrying for years grew lighter, even as my friends’ expressions darkened with anger and hurt – not at me, but for me.
When I finally fell silent, Annie was crying quietly, Maya looked ready to commit murder, and Hannah... Hannah just looked devastated that I’d carried this alone for so long. “Where is he now?” she asked.
“We don’t know. Neither of us have seen him since it all went down. But we’re going to find out where he is, because bigamy is a crime in this state. We’re going to press charges, to make sure that he can’t do this to anyone else, ever again.”
“Well, that’s fucking excellent!”
I shot Samara a grateful look. I so desperately needed their support right now, and I was getting it in spades.
“There’s one more thing.” I stood, setting my coffee mug down on the table before walking to my purse. My fingers trembled slightly as I pulled out the scrapbook and turned to face them. “This... Brian kept this at Michelle’s house. Like some sort of trophy.”
“That fucking shit stain!” Hannah exploded, jumping to her feet.
“Michelle’s therapist says he probably had similar things at each house.” My voice was steadier now. “He got off on it, on keeping pieces of each of us, watching us dance to his tune without knowing about each other.”
Opening the book to my entry, I handed the book to Poppy, who’d done our wedding cake. “I don’t know how you knew, all those years ago, that I’d be so afraid of love, but I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
Poppy’s wide eyes met mine. “So, what are you going to do?”
I inhaled deeply, the resolve building within me like a storm ready to break. “I’m going to see Harle.”
The fact that none of the others asked me who Harle was, let me know that Hannah and Mia had already filled them in.
Emily was the first to move, stepping forward and gently pushing me toward the door. “Off you go then. We’ll wait here, just in case it turns to shit and you need us to catch you.”
They herded me outside like a flock of well-meaning but bossy sheep. Just as I was reaching for my car door, Hannah’s arm shot out.
“Wait!” she gasped.
I turned back, startled. “What is it?”
She darted to her truck and returned clutching a thick, creamy envelope. The kind that felt important just from the weight of it. She held it out, looking suddenly sheepish.
“What’s this?” I asked, frowning as I took it.
Hannah glanced at Mia, who suddenly looked equally uncomfortable. “Well, um... that day when Mia and I found you crying on the kitchen floor... we, uh, might’ve taken his money and hired a PI. That’s her report.”
My stomach dropped. “You what?”
Mia stepped forward quickly, hands raised in surrender. “It wasn’t like that, Cass! You were spiraling, and we needed to make sure he was who he said he was.”
Hannah nodded frantically. “He gave you that money for a reason, Cass. We just followed through.”
I stared at the envelope in my hands, my heart racing. “Fuck.”
“It kinda gets worse,” Mia’s voice was shaking. “Or maybe not. Depends how you look at it.”
“How so?” Now I was confused as well as sick.
“Harle caught the PI following him and, he, um, approached her.”
My blood ran cold. “Oh God.”
“But, you know, plot twist!”
“Jesus, Hannah! What do you mean, plot twist?”
“He invited her to follow him home and when she did, he handed over his laptop and let her go nuts.”
“Oh okay. That’s good right? That’s a good sign?”
Hannah nodded. “The PI said she’s never had anyone do that before and that he, uh, seems like a great guy.”
That actually made me smile. “He is.”I exhaled a shaky breath, clutching the envelope tightly. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
Hannah stepped back, grinning. “You’re welcome. Now go.”
“I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.”
“Start with ‘I’m sorry,’” Maya suggested. “The rest will figure itself out.”
And with that piece of wisdom, I got in my car. This was it. The moment everything changed.
Hopefully.
Oh fuck.