Page 36 of The One Before

Here I am, sounding all judgmental. I’ve dealt with my fair share of accusations over the years. People who think I didn’t do enough.If she’d known her daughter betterorif she’d been around moremaybe this wouldn’t have happened. For a time, I thought those comments warranted a reply, then I realized no one really cared to know the truth, they just wanted to make snarky remarks. An outsider could never understand the depth of a mother’s love for her child. Whatever mistakes I made, they don’t lessen the pain I feel no longer having her around.

I pull my thoughts away from the past and back to the present. To my current conundrum. There’s no way I can meet with Josephine. She’ll know who I am within minutes. But I’m not ready to tell Madison the truth, either. We aren’t close enough yet. We made steps in the right direction during today’s session. I didn’t plan on opening up about my loss, of course. I need her to see the composed woman I once was, not the vengeful one I’ve become. It’s the only way I can get her, or anyone else for that matter, to help me. When Madison opened up about her own family life, my memories came spilling out.

I’ve considered the irony a million times. If it weren’t for Cooper Douglas, I’d be planning my own daughter’s wedding at this point in my life. Maybe I’d even be a grandmother. Sometimes I like to envision that alternate path, how full my life could have been had she not been taken. Now, in some twisted turn of fate, I’m planning her murderer’s wedding instead. Of course, that’s the role I’m forced to play. I must get closer to his bride before I can expect her to trust me. Just a little more time.

It makes sense why he chose her now. Madison has no family of her own. No connections. That Douglas clan can swoop her up and swallow her whole. There’ll be no one left to advocate for her. That’s why I have to do this. But first I have to get Josephine Douglas out of my way.

Twenty-Seven

Madison

I’ve spent the past three hours rotating between cleaning, unpacking and cooking. Coop called me on his lunch break to say he’d invited his family over for dinner. I stifled the immediate urge to strangle him; Lord knows I could have used another week to get the house in order. Maybe I needed a deadline. It’s been ages since I had one, and I always work my best under pressure.

“What’s left to do?” asks Coop. In the ten minutes he’s been home, he’s watched me stumble between the living area and kitchen at least a half dozen times.

“The table’s set. I just need to move empty boxes to the back porch. They’re an eyesore.”

“It’s handled.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “Go upstairs and get ready.”

I’m reminded I’m still wearing sweats that smell like scented candles and bleach. “Thank you,” I say, marching up the stairs.

Josephine, Regina and Roman are due to arrive any minute. I don’t have time to shower. I dampen a washcloth and wipe the grime off my naked body, slip into a maxi dress and pull my hair into a low ponytail. I whip on some mascara and lipstick. The doorbell rings just as I’m fastening a necklace around my neck.

I walk downstairs to find the Douglas family sitting in my freshly organized living room. It suddenly feels smaller with them here. Josephine stands to hug me.

“Thank you for inviting us,” she says. “I’ve been dying to see the place.”

“Of course,” I say. I give Coop a knowing glance as he approaches.

“You’ve been in this house hundreds of times,” he says.

“Yes, but it’s different now. This is your home.”

“What’s for dinner?” Roman asks. He’s sitting by the fireplace, an opened beer bottle in his hand. It must have been one he brought, as we don’t have that brand in the house.

“Just a casserole I threw together.” I look to Regina, who is wearing distressed jeans and a tank top, the most casual I’ve ever seen her. Her face is scrunched and reminds me of a teenager who is forced to be somewhere against her will. “I’m afraid it won’t be as good as anything you’d make.”

“It’ll be great,” Coop says, before Regina can throw her first dig of the night. He squeezes my shoulders, an attempt to relax me.

“Give us the grand tour,” Josephine says, taking my hand.

I show them the dining room, which looks especially fancy now that the table is set with new china. I must have scrolled through a half dozen posts explaining the correct way to do it. Upstairs, I give them a glimpse of the bedrooms I finished arranging only hours ago. When we return to the main level, Coop has taken the dish out of the oven and placed it on the table. Everyone gathers around.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Cooper,” Josephine says.

“Yeah, I feel like I’m in the showroom of a model home,” says Regina, unfurling her napkin.

“Be nice, Regina,” Roman whispers.

“Madison has done all the work,” Coop says, ignoring his sister. “You’re right. It looks great.”

I smile a silent thank you and begin to eat.

“Managing a home. Planning a wedding,” Regina says. “Not working can be a full-time job.”

“No more talking until we all have wine.” Coop stands. His charm erases the cattiness his sister seems determined to bring into the room. He walks to the kitchen and returns with a bottle of Pinot Noir. He walks around the table with the delicacy of a server and fills everyone’s glass. Roman drains his beer—the second since he’s arrived—and pushes his glass forward.

“Speaking of the wedding, I’m very excited about joining your next appointment,” says Josephine. “It’s been years since I’ve worked with Anne.”

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