Chapter 34
CHAPTER
Tara
One Year Ago
NORMALLY, TARA LOVED the book club meetings.
Over the years that she’d been a member, they’d read mostly fiction with a little nonfiction mixed in to break things up.
Tara had enjoyed classics like The Great Gatsby and The Bluest Eye, both Brad’s picks since he was on an endless quest to improve their literary minds.
Then there’d been more recent bestsellers like Bel Canto and Demon Copperhead.
But tonight, as half the group sat around Sophie’s living room in costume and the other half hadn’t bothered, Tara wanted to throw her copy of the self-help book selection in frustration. Would this meeting ever end?
Her anger toward Luke had built throughout the evening until it reached a boiling point.
How dare he accuse her of being sexually manipulative?
Of somehow cajoling him into giving her a good deal on rent with the promise of …
eww. She couldn’t think back on that conversation without triggering all the newly rediscovered fury at her stepbrother Evander.
No wonder she had the urge to stab Luke Sideris. The man had played into her personal nightmare, an experience so traumatic she’d blocked it from her own mind for almost two decades.
Finally, finally, someone in the group said they needed to head home. Tara had been so tuned out that she couldn’t have said who’d spoken, but suddenly everyone was on their feet, exchanging hugs and air kisses, draining their wine glasses and raving about what a fun evening they’d enjoyed.
Tara hung back, dully accepting a couple of hugs, but mostly waiting for her opportunity to confront Sophie about …
Everything.
She hunted around the living room for where she’d laid her handbag, finding it on an end table near someone’s forgotten wineglass.
Although, on second look, there was a pink wine charm around the stem, which normally indicated one of her drinks.
The book club ladies were careful about maintaining the same charms from meeting to meeting.
Sophie had given the group matching sets of stem tags two Christmases ago, and Tara had claimed the pink crystal for her own.
Someone must have refilled her glass without her noticing.
She lifted the wineglass, thinking a few sips might steel her for the confrontation that lay ahead. Except, just as she put it to her lips, Luke’s taunts circled through her brain.
Maybe uptight Tara just needs a little chemical help delivering on her promises. Maybe we can try some Ecstasy?
Would the bastard try drugging her drink?
She set the red wine down with a clatter. She wouldn’t put anything past him after that ugly encounter earlier.
“Tara? Are you heading home too?” Sophie turned toward her now, a questioning look on her preternaturally calm face. Was it Botox that made her skin appear so placid? Or was she simply that expressionless and unflappable?
“No, Sophie. I’m not going anywhere just yet.” Tara reached into her purse. She withdrew a pen and the partnership agreement she’d printed off from a legal advice website, since she’d never been able to reschedule with Arnie Van Ness. “We have some unfinished business to address.”
“Is that so?” Sophie didn’t so much as glance at the sheaf of papers. “I thought we’d agreed business is for workdays and book club nights are for fun?”
“I think you’ve put off this discussion long enough,” Tara informed her evenly. She unfolded the printouts and passed them to Sophie. “It’s past time that we formalize our business arrangement.”
A small smile curved Sophie’s mouth.
“I see. At least allow me to change out of my costume first.” She smoothed a hand over the long crimson gown she wore, then set the papers down.
“It’s hard enough to think about work when you’re dressed as Maleficent.
But maybe if I at least change out of the Hocus Pocus clothes, I’ll be able to concentrate on this. ”
Sophie moved toward the door.
Tara sidestepped into her path.
“I don’t think that will be necessary. I just require a signature, Sophie.” She handed her the pen. “That’s all.”
“Excuse me?” Sophie ignored the pen and folded her arms, using her greater height to look down her nose. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m not going to sign anything I haven’t read carefully. I think you’d better leave, and we’ll revisit this at the office.”
“That’s unacceptable to me. I no longer trust you to honor a handshake agreement. So either sign the papers tonight or buy me out of my half of The Clean Break, and you can go your own way with the business.” Tara tucked the pen between Sophie’s folded arms. “How about that?”
“Not on your fucking life.” Sophie grabbed the pen and hurled it across the room, never taking her eyes off Tara. “Now, gather your things and scuttle back home before I run out of patience.”
Tara pulled her lips into what she hoped constituted a Sophie-style polite smile.
“You’re not understanding me,” she began again, remembering all of the times she’d caved to Sophie’s big personality and iron will.
All the times Tara hadn’t made waves in the name of a civil partnership.
“You have two options tonight. Sign the papers that outline the terms we agreed on verbally a long time ago. Or write me a check.”
“You’re not understanding me,” Sophie parroted, lifting the partnership agreement and slowly tearing it in half. “I’m not doing either of those things tonight.”
Tara hung on to her patience by a thread. “You do know I have other copies? In fact, I already emailed you an electronic version so you can sign digitally.”
“But I won’t sign any such thing,” Sophie assured her.
A fresh wave of anger rolled through Tara.
Up until now, she’d been trying to channel her father, the powerhouse businessman Randall Hughes.
But seeing that agreement ripped in two fueled a new level of animosity.
So instead of letting Randall Hughes’s business acumen guide her actions, she dredged up her old memories of Jordyn Lawson in action.
Her kick-ass friend never backed down from a fight.
“You really want to pick what’s behind door number three without knowing what you’ll find?” Tara taunted, recalling with perfect clarity a time Jordyn had gone toe-to-toe with two older kids—man-size kids—at a playground after they cornered Tara on a swing.
Jordyn hadn’t flinched. She’d picked up two fistfuls of dirt. Then, screaming like a Viking warrior, she’d flung sandy gravel in each of their faces, grabbed Tara’s hand, and ran sprinting for six city blocks without pause.
Tara had a different kind of dirt.
“Tara.” Sophie shook her head, her expression grave. “You’re so overmatched, it’s frankly pathetic.”
“You think so?” Anxiety strung her shoulders tight, but she didn’t give ground. “Because from my perspective, I’m about to play my ace.”
Sophie’s expression wavered. A hint of worry showed in her blue eyes before that placid mask was back in place.
“You’re bluffing. How quaint.” Sophie turned from her with a sweep of her long red gown. “Stay if you want, but I really do need to clean up before I can retire for the evening.”
“I’ll go to the police tomorrow.”
Tara’s words had the desired effect.
Sophie stopped. Turned to take her measure.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your husband,” she said pointedly, enunciating with precision. “The sexual predator. Looks like I’ll be filing my harassment claim in the morning.”
Sophie’s color drained a little. She hadn’t been expecting that.
“What proof do you have?” Her voice had a strangled sound, as if the words cost her.
Tara picked up her purse and her scepter.
“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Tara asked before she walked out of the living room, opened the front door, and stepped out into the night.
Breathing deeply of the crisp fall air, she savored the memory of the look on Sophie’s face. The fear in her eyes when she’d realized Tara had not, in fact, been bluffing.
Tara hadn’t gotten what she wanted tonight. Not by a long shot.
But she also hadn’t backed down.
Sophie would come around and sign the papers. Maybe even before morning. She would see reason when she thought about the scandal Luke’s behavior would create for her. For her family.
Tara felt a pang about the way that kind of news would affect Charlotte and Amelia. Yet she knew Sophie, for all her faults, loved her girls. She would protect them.
Reassured, Tara still felt wired as she made the short drive home through the darkened street, careful of the straggling older trick-or-treaters out long past curfew. Maybe she needed to go for a run before bed.
Pound out her frustration with some cardio.
Within fifteen minutes, she had her face washed and her running clothes on. At one point she thought she’d heard some shouting from her neighbors’ home. Could it be the unflappable Sophie had decided to confront her bastard second husband about his behavior?
By the time Tara returned outside and jogged up the street, Sophie’s house remained quiet. She popped in her earbuds for workout music, still buzzing with adrenaline from her argument with Sophie.
She never heard the vehicle approach until it was too late.
Out of nowhere, the headlights all but blinded her. Only at the last minute did she glimpse who was behind the wheel. Someone who looked almost surprised to see her.
A face she recognized all too well.
When the crash came, the flash of excruciating pain, Tara didn’t bother to guess if the driver had hit her purposely or if there was a small chance the collision had been accidental.
Instead, with the clarity of a woman who knows death has come for her, Tara hoped Jordyn would somehow figure out what had happened. That Jordyn would work her fearless friendship magic for Tara’s sake.
One last time.