Chapter Twenty-One Talia
Chapter Twenty-One
Talia
Waiting for her iced coffee at Jo’s on Wednesday, Talia does what she often does to fill unstructured time: She opens Instagram.
She scrolls past a post from her boss Betty, celebrating her twenty-year reunion at MIT.
Another from Townsend’s buddy Brett, sailing around the Balearic Islands with his girlfriend Nicole.
Then she pauses on a post from her favorite author, Kennedy J.
Abbott—a dewy-skinned selfie in which she’s holding up a mug.
POV: Hubby knows exactly how you like your morning matcha, the text at the bottom of the image reads.
Matcha. Of course she drinks matcha. Talia glances up to see if her order is ready yet; perhaps it’s not too late to change her coffee to an iced matcha.
On her phone screen, a second Story from Kennedy appears.
It’s a professional portrait: Kennedy and her husband Thad and their identical twin girls, all dressed in white and huddled together in a field on a red gingham blanket.
Looking like characters Kennedy had conjured up for one of her novels.
One year ago today, she captioned the photo, and feeling just as immeasurably blessed.
Scrolling through Kennedy’s photos—seeing her house and spouse and pink-cheeked babies—used to be a painful experience for Talia.
A reminder of all the things she’d yet to accomplish.
But then she reconnected with Townsend, and now the fairy tale that is Kennedy’s Instagram grid feels less like an aspirational mood board and more like a glimpse into Talia’s possible future.
The future she and Townsend could share together.
Despite all the factors conspiring to tear them apart, Talia and Townsend have never been more in sync; Talia is sure of this, and she feels sure that Townsend would agree.
Nearly every time she grabs her phone to text him throughout the day—just a heart emoji or a quick I miss you—she finds a message already waiting from him, because he’d been missing her too.
And despite her spending nearly every night at his place, he still lights up when he sees her at his door and wakes her every morning with a kiss.
Just last night, she brought him take-out sushi after work on a whim, and he looked at her as though she were a mind reader, the answer to his prayers. Just as he is the answer to hers.
Yes, he cheated, as Meera never tired of reminding her.
What Talia can’t get her to understand is that he’s changed.
He’s more industrious than the man he was last year, and more thoughtful too—the kind of guy who can remember her coffee order at Jo’s (a large Iced Turbo with sugar-free vanilla syrup and an extra shot of espresso) and will surprise her with one when she needs it most.
And of course, she can’t get Meera to understand what it felt like to be in his family home for the Fourth of July party, to wash her hands with a bar of soap shaped like a seashell and scented like a summer peach, to have someone whisk away her dirty plate before she even noticed or could thank them.
The life Townsend offers is as plush and comfortable as the half dozen goose-down pillows stacked on his bed, the ones he kicks onto the floor during the night without a second thought, and while she would love him no matter where he came from, the fact that he came from a lot .
. . well, it makes Talia more forgiving. Not a lot, but a little.
With Townsend, she feels secure in a way she never felt with Malcolm—more secure than she feels even with Meera, who’s been cagey and strange ever since Talia got back together with Townsend.
At first, she thought Meera was jealous, but more recently, she’s become convinced that her friend is keeping something from her.
It would be insane for Meera to lie about receiving that photo of Gracie playing in the park, but Talia can’t stop thinking about it.
The way Meera seemed so convinced, so sure she was now a target of Amanda’s wrath, just like Talia—it isn’t sitting right with her.
What reason would Amanda have to go after Meera?
Of course, Meera did encourage Talia to report Amanda’s harassment to the police.
Is that why Meera thinks Amanda is after her now?
Or is there some other reason—some connection between the two women that Talia isn’t aware of?
The thought would be laughable if it weren’t so disturbing.
“Large Iced Turbo with sugar-free vanilla and an extra shot?”
Talia looks up from her phone to see a barista brandishing her coffee and scurries over to grab it.
A line from Kennedy J. Abbott’s novel Right on Track pops into her head: Emmeline tends to get tangled up in narratives that only exist in her own head.
The same could be said for Talia, who’d be the first to admit she has an overactive imagination.
She’d never want to jeopardize her friendship with Meera over an imagined betrayal, and she’s just about to text Meera, to ask to clear the air—until she steps into the parking lot and sees a matte black Ford Taurus has sidled in right next to her car.
This normally wouldn’t set off alarm bells in her head, except the parking lot is otherwise empty, and it seems strange for this car to choose a space directly beside the only other car in the lot.
Plus, both the windshield and front side windows are tinted, which she doesn’t think is allowed in Texas—at least not this dark.
Whether or not a person sits inside the vehicle is impossible to tell. Still, she feels sure that someone is in there. Waiting for her.
Instinctively, her eyes drop to her new tires. No slashes, thank God. But still . . .
Amanda isn’t the only one conspiring to tear them apart.
After the Fourth of July party, Townsend told Talia all about the strange conversation he had with Amanda’s sister, Kaitlyn—the one who kept insisting that Amanda was missing and that Townsend had something to do with it.
“She told me she had a gun in her trunk,” said Townsend. “She’s lucky I didn’t call the police.”
“Maybe you should have.” Talia paused and then added, “Did she say anything about me?”
Townsend shook his head no. “She didn’t,” he said, “but if she comes anywhere near you, tell me, because I’ll fucking kill her.”
Standing outside Jo’s now, Talia is tempted to turn around and go right back inside—at least until she can identify the owner of this Ford Taurus with its blacked-out windows, sitting close enough to her car to feel like a threat.
But she doesn’t. It’s broad daylight, and there is no reason for her to be afraid.
Just because something is unfamiliar doesn’t mean it’s a threat, she reminds herself.
Some things are outside her control; that’s okay.
She’s probably getting tangled up in a narrative that only exists in her own head.
Steeling herself, she starts toward her Volkswagen Jetta, and as she nears, she hears a gentle hum, which grows steadily louder. The car next to hers isn’t just parked; it’s on and idling, ready to peel away at any moment.
Inside her purse, her fingers fumble for her keys.
Then, as discreetly as she can, she slides a key between each knuckle, squeezing her hand into a fist. She can’t remember where she saw this self-defense tip—an Instagram video probably.
Something she would have watched during her infinite scrolling in bed, never expecting she’d ever actually put it to use.
The walk seems endless, but eventually, she makes it to the driver’s side door.
Once there, she has no choice but to turn her back to the mysterious vehicle to get into her own.
The beep of the car lock remote is deafening in the nearly empty lot, like a scream.
She’s just about to close the door behind her, finally safe, when she hears it: a soft click. A camera shutter?
Talia doesn’t want to hang around to find out. She hightails it out of the parking lot and off to the Cuff office, the conversation she hoped to have with Meera already forgotten.