Chapter 29
WINNIE
“You need to tell Fitz.”
“Fitz?” I stare at my friend.
“The police can’t do anything about this. This is beyond them. You think a restraining order is going to keep that murderer out of your house?” Carolina counters.
I feel sick as I stare at the note on the table in front of us. “Who does he think he saw me with?”
“Fitz, dummy.”
“I just kissed him,” I argue. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“So your stalker is delusional. Who would have thought?” Carolina scoffs.
“I just can’t believe he’d actually hurt me.”
“He had sex with you in an alley at night.” She grabs my arm. “He snuck in and started humping you while you were asleep. He’s some sort of deranged sexual pervert, and you being with Fitz pushed him over the edge. He thinks he owns you, thinks you’re like his prized possession or something.”
“I’m not even with Fitz.”
“He said you’re dating, right?” Carolina is impatient.
“So date him. Be his girlfriend. It’s a way better life decision than carrying on with this stalker.
We’re sending Fitz some nudie pics to let him know that you’re very interested and that you’re sorry for being a dry-ass cunt last night—and yes, this will be a group activity.
It’s going to be summer before we know it, and I need a friend with a boyfriend who has a yacht and a rooftop pool.
So I hope you clipped the hair off your nips. ”
The bell above the door chimes.
“Laura!” Olive and Kathy squeal, rushing over to her.
“Maybe you can sic your stalker on her too,” Carolina hisses out of the side of her mouth.
Loony Laura. She’s wearing the pencil skirt and blouse that’s practically the uniform of women in private equity.
“Brace thyself,” Carolina mutters.
“Ladies!” Laura drawls, mincing over in her heels to give a barely-there hug to me and Carolina. “You’ve gained weight, Winnie. It looks good on you.”
She’s smug.
“I’ve lost five pounds.” Laura presses a hand to her chest. “And no, don’t say it—it’s not wedding stress.
I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t even care about this wedding.
I mean, I have the Grinelli contract I’m working on.
Can you believe it? I mean”—her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen like an uncanny-valley Disney-princess expression—“like, ugh.”
I grit out a smile. “Wow. That sounds crazy.”
“I’m just so busy, but I love it. You know, you guys know.
” She lets out that fake braying corporate laugh.
“I still can’t believe that you left, Winnie.
And it’s not like you left for a husband or children, though I’d side-eye that a little bit too.
I just don’t think Sutter, Gaines and McCall could survive without me.
I did 1,356 billable hours last month. Can you believe it?
Literally 1,356. Like, uh, what! I’m just so busy, so it’s great that you’re helping me plan this wedding.
And bridesmaids—you’re my bridesmaids! I’m getting married! ” She claps her hands.
“How’s your dog?” I ask her with a wince.
“Oh, Atlie! Yes, we got him a little brother. Another cockapoo…” She draws out the vowel.
“Anyways, I have my other bridesmaids coming and the fiancé.” She waggles her ring finger at me.
“This is actually not the ring I wanted. I made him take the ring back to the store three times. This one is five carats, but I’m just going to have to live with it.
I mean, ugh, right? Men.” She rolls her eyes with a laugh.
“You have more bridesmaids?” Carolina asks, bland smile on her face. I know I’m going to get an earful later.
“I mean, I had to. The fiancé—” She waggles her head and widens her eyes. “He wanted to have all of his hockey buddies there. Men!” She leans over the table, fake laughing. “Men! So I’m letting him bring all his little friends, and some of the WAGs have to be in the wedding.”
The door chimes, and half the Seattle hockey team and their significant others stream in.
“I told them all to come to this meeting.”
“Oh, fun,” Carolina chokes out as she sees Knox holding the door for one of the pretty blond WAGs.
One of the defensemen comes over to Laura to kiss her noisily.
“You need to shave, babe.” She pats his cheek. “I told you I don’t like the scruff. Men!” She laughs again.
“I’m glad you’re planning this wedding, Winnie,” her fiancé says to me. “Knox says you’re very organized. Laura needs the help.”
“He was telling me,” Laura interrupts, “last night, he was like, ‘Oh’”—she deepens her voice—“‘Laura Bradberry is about to drop some balls.’ And I say, ‘Laura Bradberry does not drop balls.’”
“Ha ha ha.” My cheeks already hurt from forcing them to smile. My professional muscles are not as fit as they used to be.
“Ladies!” Laura calls to the WAGs taking photos in front of the neon sign over a bookcase that Carolina declared aesthetic.
“None of you are preggo, right?” She laughs again.
“I already had to kick out two of the girls.” She mimes a belly.
“Can’t have that at my wedding. I mean, ugh, right?
I have to have a nice wedding. You should have seen Regan’s wedding. She’s my sorority sister.”
I nod along as she steamrolls through.
“Nolan is my trophy boyfriend. I want to show him off.” She pats his stomach. “I’m going to get him a bespoke suit. Nothing off-the-rack for my man.”
Knox looks upset as the defenseman beams.
“Yep, she buys me nice stuff. I don’t have to worry about a thing.” Nolan kisses her noisily. “She’s my Taylor Swift.”
“Knox,” Brinley says in a whiny voice, “can I have some money to buy a coffee? Not a fancy one.”
Knox looks irritated.
“No. I told you—”
“Oh, just go get coffees or something on me,” Laura tells them. She pulls out her wallet out of her Birkin bag and hands a credit card to her fiancé. “Babe, go buy them coffees.”
“So, how’s the WAG life?” I ask her as the hockey players troop off.
“Honestly…” Laura leans forward. “Honestly, I don’t understand what any of them do all day.
Like, your sister—she was a WAG, right? She was telling me at the bar, and I was like, ‘What did she do all day?’ You know, like, Winnie, you know I work, right?
Like, I work. Like, we—” She points between us.
“We know work. None of these bitches could bring home the bacon.”
Laura crosses her arms. “I’m not like them. I actually understand hockey. I play golf. Nolan and I go golfing, you know.”
I’m getting ready to strangle myself with a pastry rope.
A big plus of not being in private equity anymore was Loony Laura not being in my social sphere.
Carolina and I have barely gotten a word in. She’s so self-absorbed.
“So, let’s look at the wedding plan,” I interject when Laura takes a breath to start talking again. “I think Kathy’s been working on it.”
We take a seat at the table. Kathy pulls out her notebook. “So, the bridesmaids? We need to make sure there are enough people in the wedding party.”
“Is, um, Knox in the wedding party?” Carolina clears her throat.
“He and Nolan are apparently buddies. You know, men! Of course, my fiancé is not like them, though.” She waves the hand with the big diamond. “I mean, none of those guys could handle a real woman like me. They’re all incompetent man-children.”
On that we can agree.
“I mean, look at the women they pick. Like, hello? Pathetic. And now half these cows are pregnant and my wedding photos are going to look terrible.”
“Did you have a wedding planner we need to coordinate with?” I ask.
“Weddings in the City dropped me. Can you believe it? And I said—I told them—I said, ‘I am in private equity. I can throw a party.’ Anyways, the bachelorette party—those pregnant girls can’t come. Okay, off the list. They need to be off the list.” She taps Kathy’s notebook.
“But you’re bringing your billionaire boyfriend, huh, right?
” Laura turns that strained smile on me.
“Nolan said he saw the two of you cozy at the hockey game. Sutter, Gaines and McCall has a new project coming up. I’m hoping Fitz’ll be at the engagement party and we can all talk business.
I mean, I think we’ll need a break from that, right?
” She nods to the WAGs taking photos of pastry.
I nod. “Excuse me for a moment. I think Olive’s about to burn down the kitchen.”
I pace around the kitchen. The ovens are going full blast, and it does nothing to help my migraine.
I cannot stand Loony Laura.
What’s worse is now she’s making me feel sorry for the WAGs—the very people who made my little sister’s life miserable. For freak’s sake, Laura’s having Knox’s affair partner be her bridesmaid while she wants Kathy to be one too.
And Knox…
I’m going to have to see Knox. For the next, what, year? When is this wedding?
I’m trying to pull it up on my calendar when the door slams.
“Olive, don’t open that oven door,” I warn, not looking up.
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” a male voice booms.
Knox.
“You can’t be back here.” I slam the notebook closed.
“I can’t?” He advances on me. “You were mine first, remember? All of you belongs to me.”
“You didn’t want me.” My nostrils flare.
His mouth screws up. “My mother says she saw a man coming into your house last night.”
I really have to struggle to keep my expression neutral.
Knox plays hockey. He’s used to reading people’s microexpressions and body language so that he can get the puck.
“No one was there,” I tell him.
He knows I’m lying.
“Hm,” he says after a moment, leveling his gaze on me. “You can pretend to everyone that you’re not interested in sex, but I know the truth. You’re a dirty fucking slut.”
The house is dark when I get back. Laura kept insisting on taking conference calls in the middle of the wedding planning, drawing it out into a six-hour ordeal.
The fact that I didn’t get a date for Kathy out of this sacrifice is the thing that is particularly galling. I mean, we were at it all night, and I barely have a bachelorette party plan.
I finally moved Laura and Carolina to a bar nearby and sent Kathy home to keep Mom from murdering the Pittsburgh troll in the attic.
My feet hurt. I drank way too much.
“At least my headache is gone,” I whisper to Fidget and pat her head. “Do you need an anxiety pill, girl?”
The border collie’s eyes are rolled back, rings of white as her eyes dart around.
“Huh.” I pet her silky fur then see something wrapped in the ring of her dog tag that hangs off her collar. “What is—is that a note?”
My mouth is dry.
I’m done with your fucking dog. Get rid of her, or I will.
The stalker is after my dog?
I take the note and hurry through the dark to the laundry room, to which I have been relegated like Cinderella in my own house.
I need to call Carolina. I need to call the police.
Or maybe I need to call Fitz.
Fidget. I can’t let anyone hurt Fidget.
I was so stupid. I can’t believe I trusted a stalker.
Carolina was right. I should have kicked the stalker to the curb and just stayed with Fitz.
I choke back a sob. I had sex with the man who’s threatening to kill me and my dog.
A huge hand in a black glove appears out of nowhere. Drunkenly, I stumble, fall to my knees, and look up at the huge man all in black.
He reaches out to my neck…