Page 26 of Happy Wife

“You’ve been told that there is nothing for you to do while the police do their thing and run down all the leads and look for all the things. You can’t just sit with the stress and the worry. It’s good to stay busy, keep moving. Practice a little self-care. Put your phone in your pocket in case Ardell calls. I won’t rat you out to Kyle J.”

“Fine.” I relent and head for my car, giving Austin one more glare. There’s got to be another way to find Dean Morrison.

Will, I hope you aren’t up to something bad.

Chapter13

I am running faster than I ever have in a workout class. But even maintaining a ten-mile-per-hour clip on a treadmill, I can’t outrun the unanswered questions that haunt me.

Kyle J is proud. He rewards me with a high five and stands next to my treadmill, yelling about how I’m a “bad bitch” as I pump my arms and knees as fast as they will go. My body aches and my lungs burn.

Este is walking next to me on her treadmill. She looks over and scowls. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“You said we had to move,” I huff. “I’m moving.”

When Kyle J winds the class down by telling us to “shake off the negativity” and thank our bodies for “the gift of movement,” I can’t tell if I feel better or even more unhinged. My entire body buzzes with adrenaline. Este hands me a gym towel from the back of the room and I attempt to mop the sweat off the floor around me.

Tippy Schaeffer heads toward us, a mawkish look of concern on her face. “Nora, we’re all so worried about Will,” she says, dabbing her forehead with a towel. I hadn’t realized she was in the class until now. I must have been too hyperfocused on trying to burn off every ounce of frantic energy. Since the night I saw her and Ardell—secretly getting hot and heavy at the Christmas party—Ialways feel a pinch of secondhand embarrassment for her. As ahigh-ranking member of Gianna’s tennis clique, she’d surely be exiled if they knew about her extracurricular activities.

She cocks her head at me now and adds, “How are you holding up?”

I open my mouth to respond, but my mind is blank. There’s something about the tone of her voice—niceties masking skepticism—that makes Will’s disappearance feel more real. Too real. It lands like a punch to the gut, and I struggle to take steady breaths. I look between Tippy and Este. I hadn’t counted on having to manage other people’s reactions to Will’s unknown whereabouts.

How stupid of me. Of course everyone’s talking about Will.

“Sorry, Tippy.” Este makes quick work of grabbing both of our towels and guides us toward the door. “We’re late for an appointment.”

As we move toward the exit, I can hear Tippy stage-whisper, “I can’t believe she’s here given the circumstances.” In a low voice, someone responds, “I’d be sitting by the phone at home. Especially considering the fact that he’s her meal ticket.”

The words sap the adrenaline right out of my body.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

I keep my gaze fixed on the door, but once we’re out of the studio and headed for Este’s car, I say, “I’m not sure I’m up for Botox.”

She just looks at me and points at my forehead. “That’s the frown I’m talking about. Keep it up and you’ll age like a raisin.”

“Este,” I protest.

“Nora. Tippy is a moron. She just wants everyone to hate themselves so her own shitty life choices don’t seem so bad. Don’t let her keep you from looking after yourself.”

Este climbs into her car, and I consider storming off in the opposite direction, but the thought of being alone overwhelms me. I decide that needles and botulism are preferable, no matter what people may think.

—

I was wrong. The medspa visit is brutal. Tippy’s judgment plays on a loop in my head as they ask me to frown and pucker my lips. The sting of every injection feels personally wounding, like a punishment for leaving the house. Cosmetic self-flagellation.

I shouldn’t be here. I need to find Dean Morrison. I have to find Will.

While excruciating, the visit is mercifully brief, and within twenty minutes, I’m holding an ice pack to my forehead as they send us on our way.

“Was that so bad?” Este’s chipper as we make our way to the lobby. She gets a special rush from turning back the clock one injection at a time.

“It was torture.” I try to frown, but my face is still a little numb. “Can I go home now?”

“Fuck.” She looks down at her purse. “I left my phone.”

“Este,” I snap. “Goddamnit. Take me home.”

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