Page 61 of Our Little Secret

“Don’t go there,” Brooke advised.

Leah scooted her chair back and found the wine bottle on the counter, then held it up. “Join me?” she asked, looking in Brooke’s direction.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Fine.” Leah poured again, filling her glass to the rim. “More for me.” She held her glass aloft for a second, some red wine sloshing over the rim. “Cheers,” she said, taking a sip. “Fuck men.”

“Right.”

A cell phone jangled.

“Is that yours?” Leah asked, holding up hers. “Not mine.”

“I’ll see.” Brooke’s stomach clenched. Not a ring but a buzz. Not her cell phone but the burner.

Oh. Damn.

She reached into her purse and ended the call. She reminded herself to put it on silent and hide it in a small recess in the cupboard over the washing machine.

Leah glanced up at her. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know. Probably a telemarketer,” she said just as the timer went off and she turned her attention to the oven, where she rotated the baking dish, the scents of garlic and tomatoes wafting to her as the heat of the oven warmed her skin. “I’d say another fifteen or twenty minutes,” she said, though Leah hadn’t asked.

“That skank!” she cried. “Oh my God! Look what she just posted!” She set down her glass so hard that the stem cracked, the glass broke, and wine sloshed all over the table as well as over her phone. “No! No!”

Neal rushed back into the room.

Marilee too hurried down the stairs, Shep bounding behind her.

“My phone! Damn it, my phone!” Leah had picked up her cell and was wiping it with her fingers.

Brooke tore off two paper towels and, avoiding the jagged pieces of shattered glass, started blotting up the wine that was running over the tabletop and dripping to the floor.

“What happened?” Marilee asked, eyeing the broken glass and her mother busily mopping up.

“Nothing. An accident,” Brooke replied.

Leah shrugged. “Just your lush of an aunt spilling her drink and ruining her phone. Just like she’s ruining the rest of her life.”

“Stop it!” Brooke said, sending Leah a hard look. As she did, a sharp pain shot through her palm. “Damn.” A shard of glass had pierced her skin. “Holy—”

“Are you okay?” Neal asked.

Sucking in her breath through her teeth, Brooke plucked the wicked piece of glass from her hand. “Son of a bitch,” she hissed as she quickly stepped to the sink. Blood trailed after her, but she turned on the tap and ran water over the wound. “It’s fine,” she lied, ignoring the pain starting to throb. “Not deep.”

“Oh Brooke. I’m sorry.” Leah seemed ready to cry again as she continued to dab at her cell with the towel.

“Put the phone in rice,” Marilee said and walked to the pantry, returning with a canister of white rice. “It’s supposed to draw out the liquid.”

“Is it that bad? Let me see.” Neal took the cell from Leah’s hand.

As Brooke found a Band-Aid and tore open the little packet, the dog began licking up a few missed drops on the floor.

“Ugh! Someone get Shep out of here!” Brooke ordered and then did it herself after slapping on the Band-Aid. “There could be glass on the floor! Come on, boy!” She grabbed the retriever by his collar and pulled him into the hallway. “Stay!” she commanded, pointing a finger at the dog. “You, stay!”

“I think it’s okay,” Neal was saying as she stepped back into the kitchen. He touched the screen on Leah’s phone and was nodding as he handed it back to her. “Here—try it again.”

“Thank you.” Leah was already typing and swiping.

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