Page 87 of Never Been Worse

“I want rumors of the breakup in the tabloids by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask, wide-eyed.

“Make it happen, Harper,” he says, then stands up, grabs his jacket and the coffee I’m still cradling, and walks out.

I watch him leave, my mind reeling, before I stand up, order a new coffee, and call my best friends.

THIRTY-FOUR

WES

My texts to Harper have gone unanswered all day while I’m at practice, but when I pull up to the house and see Jules and Ava’s cars parked out front, I’m slightly appeased, knowing she probably got caught up in an impromptu girls’ day.

Except, when I step into the house, I don’t hear raucous laughter in the living room like I normally do when the girls convene here. I check the kitchen and the dining room, finding nothing before I head upstairs to find my wife. Finally, I hear voices coming from Harper’s design room and make my way there.

“Uh, hello?” I ask, leaning into the doorway, a mix of confusion and relief coursing through me when I see Harper and the girls there. Three heads poke up, but a voice continues on, a voice I now realize is Willa Stone’s.

Set aside on a table are the remnants of a delivery lunch and multiple cups of coffee, like they’re hyped up on ideas and excitement. I smile, happy that Harper’s out of the creative funk Jeremy put her into.

“Oh, you’re home, good. We have to talk,” Harper says, looking at me, shifting the notebook in her hand to the side and crossing her arms on her chest.

“I can see that.” I step further into the room and toward the cork board that looks decidedly different than I’m used to. “Hey, ladies,” I say, waving to Ava and Jules.

They return the favor, but my wife continues to glare at me. I’d be a bit worried about that, but I can’t seem to focus on that too long, because now that I'm closer, I can see the cork board better. Harper seems to have taken everything off of it, replacing it with lists and ideas and, more alarmingly, a printout of her ex’s face, pinned to the board and seemingly used as adartboard, pens sticking into the photo.

Although I’m glad to seemyface isn’t pinned to her cork board, I realize that combined with her glare, something clearly happened.

“Hey, Wes,” Willa says through the phone sitting on the table.

“Hey, Willa,” I say distractedly, reading the notes pinned to the board. It looks like a crime scene investigation board, and I’m surprised she hasn’t put up red string connecting things.

Find proof of Jeremy's cheating,is pinned on, withcontact PIunderlined beneath it.

Is blackmail illegal?is on a note card, and a sticky note with what I think is a US legal code on it is stuck underneath.

How do you prove blackmail?is beneath that. Also on the board is a copy of what I recognize as the contract she signed at the police station, handing over the designs to Jeremy, with notes in the margins.

But most alarming on the cork board is the list that saysRuin Jeremy Vaughn.

I think it’s the one she showed me on her phone that we then added to, though some of them are crossed out, and already accomplished, and the women have clearly been busy adding more to the bottom.

“Are you guys fucking with Jeremy again?” I ask with a sigh. Jules and Ava look at one another, clearly having a silent conversation, something I decide probably isn’t great.

No one gives me an answer, and Harper continues to glare at me, which is an answer in and of itself. “What happened?” Suddenly, anxiety takes over as I realize they wouldn’t be acting like this out of nowhere. Something happened to once again reignite their taste for vengeance.

“We have to talk,” Harper repeats, standing this time, and with this new view, the words feel foreboding.

“That doesn't sound good,” I say as she walks toward me.

“You’re in the doghouse,” Ava says with a delighted smile. It’s a good thing, I suppose, that she’s smiling and not planning revenge onme.

“Come on,” Harper says, walking past me without a second glance and out of the living room. I follow her until we’re in our bedroom, where she closes the door behind us before turning to face me, jaw tight and eyes burning.

Yeah, Harper isdefinitelyunhappy with me.

“What’s going on?” I ask. I reach for Harper, desperate to touch her, especially now that I’m on a different footing, but she shifts back, crosses her arms on her chest, and gives me a glare.

Fuck.

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