Chapter 2
Chapter Two
“You’ll never guess what Whitney told me today.” I toss my Chloe crossbody onto the kitchen island before crossing to my husband and wrapping him in a hug.
His arms come around me instantly. I nuzzle into his neck, grounding myself in the familiar warmth of him. “What now, babe?”
I laugh. He knows us too well. “She thinks Phillip is planning to kill her for the insurance money.”
Bennett’s laugh bursts from his chest, echoing off the cathedral ceiling. “She’s got quite the imagination. Can you imagine? The most successful businessman in Tigertail Beach offing his wife to pocket more cash?”
“I can’t.” I shake my head, though something in me lingers on the thought longer than it should.
Bennett has been in my life almost as long as Whitney. We met my fourth year at Miami University, when he was finishing his master’s in business. For as long as I can remember, it’s been the two of them in my corner. I’ve never needed anyone else.
That’s why, after we married, we bought here—Tigertail Beach Estates, the most exclusive neighborhood on Marco Island. Within six months, Whitney and Phillip purchased the estate next door. And now here we are, ten years later.
Thick as thieves.
“In fact,” Bennett continues, turning back to the counter, “if you told me you and Whitney were plotting Phillip’s end, I’d find that more believable. The Dangerous Duo is downright diabolical.”
He chuckles, pats my ass, and kisses me. Easy. Automatic. We’ve always been good like this—physical, connected. Even after a fight, we don’t stay apart long. It’s always been easier to come back together than to stay angry.
“Maybe you should talk to him,” I say. “Just… poke around a little.”
“No thanks.” Bennett pulls away and returns to the smoked salmon he’s assembling for lunch. “Men don’t do that.”
“Do what? Talk business?” I roll my eyes.
“Talk personal business,” he corrects. “Just tell Whit to sleep with one eye open. She’ll be fine. She could probably take him out with one swipe of those pointy fake nails anyway. He’s two decades older—she could beat him in an arm-wrestling match if she wanted.”
I laugh. “True, but he’s still strong—”
“Well.” Bennett glances back at me, eyes glinting, and lifts his arm to flex. “He’s not built like a Marvel superhero like your man.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “That’s for sure.”
“How’s the brunch for the children’s hospital coming along?”
“Fine—” I say, but my mind drifts.
My gaze slides past him, out the kitchen window, landing on the hedges that separate our yard from Whitney’s. The red barrel tiles of their white Mediterranean revival peek through the thick green. I picture her by the indoor pool, flipping through Vogue, planning their next trip to Lake Como.
We always thought we’d raise our kids together.
Instead, here we are—ten years into marriage, blissfully child-free.
It’s hard to imagine putting someone else first when, in so many ways, it feels like we already have.
Whitney and I bonded over that early on—the quiet, unspoken understanding that we’ve both spent our childhoods mothering our own mothers. Veronica Ramsey and Kathy Williams present themselves as polished, accomplished women. Behind closed doors, they’re something else entirely.
Calling us latchkey kids isn’t quite right. We grew up in sprawling estates in Naples, surrounded by wealth, but what we lacked was something simpler. Something harder to name.
Love that felt like it was meant for us.
Kathy Williams cared more about how spotless the guest bathroom was than whether I made it to equestrian camp. I rode every day for years. Won competitions. Smiled for photos.
She’s not in any of the memories that matter.
But the albums are full. The mantels lined with proof that she raised a happy child.
Family dinners were quiet. Holidays, curated.
Lonely.
Now, ten years into my own marriage, the idea of children fills me with something closer to dread than longing. Bennett is focused on his career. On me.
And I like it that way.
“You think Phillip has it in him?” I ask.
“What?” Bennett glances up, sprinkling capers over the salmon.
“You know… do you think he could kill her?”
“This again?” He laughs. “I think the only thing anyone needs to worry about is the two of you.” His eyes flick toward me, amused. “The Dangerous Duo strikes again.”