Page 123 of The Love Destroyers

There’s no way Ellie would interrupt an important conversation about the future of her social media influencer career to ask about the well-being of a pet rabbit she hasn’t acknowledged for days.

No, my man Carrot has what we need. He’s had it from Day One.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

EMMA

After Ellie storms out, Sophie peeks into the room.

“Oh, no, we missed her,” Sophie says sarcastically as she enters with a mop and a broom. A downcast Otis follows her in with a towel, a Buchanan Brewery sweatshirt, and sweatpants.

“Oh, God bless you,” I say, because my beer-soaked dress is disgusting, and if I got pulled over, I’d have an interesting conversation with the officer who stopped me.

I accept his offerings and start to towel off.

“Did you get what you needed from her?” Sophie asks, propping the broom and mop against the table. She worries at a locket around her neck. “I had no idea who Ellie was on Friday, but I’ll admit I fell down the proverbial rabbit hole after Otis took that job. I’m not surprised Jeffrey’s a jerk. He made Otis shave a wart off his foot and he didn’t even say thank you.”

Otis shrugged, then says mournfully, “Ellie thanked me. She even gave me a couple of dollars for the vending machine.”

“I’m sorry about your job, Otis,” I say.

He gives a gusty sigh. “Oh, it’s all right. Soph thinks I was drinking the Kool-Aid. I think I should take some time off and reevaluate, you know? Maybe spend some time fixingthings around the house. They have instructions for just about everything on YouTube.”

Sophie looks horrified, and again, I have the impulse to help her.

“Uh, you know, my friend did some work for Honey Do. It’s this app where you get matched up with people who want help with household work. Maybe that’s something to look into. He said they don’t ask for references or anything.”

“Hey, that’s an idea,” he says, brightening.

Sophie mouthsthank youfrom behind him.

I help her clean the private room, which she insists is unnecessary. I insist otherwise. It feels like the least I can do given how many problems we’ve caused her over the last several days. I also give her my number in case she ever needs help. Before I leave, I stop into the bathroom to change into the clothes, putting my beer-soaked dress and underthings in a plastic bag.

It’s a relief to be in clean clothes, even if I’m not clean and stink of beer. I get into my hatchback, feeling the pang I do whenever I see a hatchback lately, and try to enjoy the drive. At this time of year, the liminal space between winter and spring, it still gets dark early, although the days have been lengthening.

My mother is gone, but there’s a handwritten note on her personal stationery—From the desk of Dahlia Rosings—waiting for me on her usual seat in the parlor sayingChuck has whisked me off to a wine and cheese tasting.

I smile wistfully. Here, again, is proof that my mother has more of a life than I do. But I don’t feel bitter about it. The bitterness has seeped out of me over the past couple of months. If anything, I feel inspired. Wistful. I want more out of life. I want my life to have several different chapters, and for them to seam together to form a story I’m proud of. One I want to share with other people.

My mind flits to Seamus, but I can’t let it linger on him. Not right now. I need to get through this situation with Jeffrey and Ellie before I make any big, life-changing decisions.

I’m about to head upstairs for a shower, when I hear the distant thump of the front door opening and closing.

My pulse jumps, but it must be my mother and Chuck, home early. Or Anthony and Rosie, who have a key.

“Mom?” I call. “Anthony?”

No one answers.

There’s a scurrying sound behind me, making me flinch, but I catch sight of Shadow as she slips behind an ottoman and out of sight.

“Who’s there?” I call out, hearing the faint wobble in my voice.

Nothing, but I can hear the faint sounds of someone moving through the house. It’s a big house. Huge. But it’s a house that speaks in its own language of groans and squeaks—a language I’ve spent a lifetime learning.

My body is trembling, but I take deep, slow breaths. I hope it’s some kind of misunderstanding, that the house cleaning service is here on a day they usually have off, or something. But I need to be prepared in case it’s not.

I set my purse down by the door, so I don’t have my pepper spray. But I glance around and pick up a paperweight—my mother has proven their efficiency—before grabbing my phone. I can’t risk speaking, but I call 9-1-1 and leave the call open. Just in case.

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