“Girl, that dress is so good,” Landry says. She’s wearing something similar, so maybe it’s not so much a compliment to me as to herself.

She’s also wearing a great bracelet, a slender gold bangle with a little charm dangling from it, and I am already wondering if there’s any way to slip it from her wrist without her noticing.

Fuck, no, I remind myself. You don’t have to do that shit anymore, and if you did, it would basically be suicide, just ask her where she got it and go buy one just like it.

But that idea doesn’t hold nearly as much appeal, so instead I wave her compliment off. “Oh, thank you. I couldn’t decide what to wear, just decided to go simple.”

“Is Eddie here?” Emily asks, and I nod again, gesturing behind me.

“I left him in pursuit of Woodford Reserve,” I say, and all five women give those weird fake laughs like I’ve said something funny.

Actually, Eddie has been drinking more lately, the recycling full of empty bottles. I resolved to keep a closer eye on him tonight, especially since he’s driving.

Of course, I don’t mention any of this to the girls.

But Caroline seems to pick up on something in my tone, because she says, rather pointedly, “I still just can’t believe Tripp Ingraham could have killed his wife and her best friend.”

Over her shoulder, I see a man dressed far more casually than anyone else here, camera lifted as he points and shoots. Where do photos like these even end up? Who wants to look at a bunch of housewives gossiping?

“I mean, he’s still saying he had nothing to do with…” Caroline’s voice drops to a whisper. “The murders. And there’s definitely going to be a trial…” She pauses, then stares directly at me. “Well, the whole thing must be such a nightmare for the both of you.”

It feels so infuriating and yet so … fucking apt that Tripp Ingraham might be the one to ruin this whole thing for me. It’s what the Tripps of the world do, after all. Fuck shit up for people like me.

“We’re praying over it,” I finally say, and lo and behold, that shuts them right up. The women all nod firmly, Anna-Grace even murmuring, “Amen.”

* * *

The party is still going full-swing when Eddie and I decide to leave around ten or so. People are getting drunker, the music is getting louder, and I’m tired of smiling for photos.

“Did you have a nice time?” Eddie asks, and I’m tired enough to tell the truth.

“Not really.”

That makes him laugh as he loosens his tie. “I hear you. Those people are … something else.”

We make our way to our car, feet crunching on the gravel.

“Have you thought more about leaving?” I ask, and then turn to look over my shoulder at him. “I mean, I know what you said about Bea wanting to keep Southern Manors an Alabama company. But you could sell it, couldn’t you?” I pause, worrying for a moment that I’ve gone too far. “I just mean that neither of us are from here. We could start over somewhere new.”

He stops then. “Would you want to?”

A few weeks ago, I would’ve said no, that Thornfield Estates was the dream. But now that I’ve seen some of the underbelly of what I thought was a perfect place, I’m not so sure.

“I could,” I finally say. “If you wanted to.”

Eddie tips his head back, looking at the sky. “It would be nice,” he replies, but that’s not really an answer.

Then he starts walking toward the car, only to pull up short again.

“You dropped something,” he says, leaning down to pluck a gold bangle bracelet off the ground.

I take Landry’s bracelet and slide it back into my handbag. “Oh that. Thanks.”

28

“Are you worried?” I ask as the car winds down the steep hill from the country club. The three glasses of sauvignon blanc I drank on an empty stomach have loosened my tongue. The purr of the motor is quiet, and there’s no traffic up here, no sound, really, except for the soft sigh Eddie gives as he places a hand on my knee.

“About Tripp? I mean, I’m not not worried, that’s for damn sure.”

He reaches up and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, and when I glance over, in the dim light from the dashboard, I can see the shadows underneath his eyes, the hollow of his cheekbones.

I reach over and place a hand on his leg. “It’s going to be alright,” I assure him. “Now that Tripp has been arrested—”

Scoffing, Eddie draws his own hand back, placing it on the wheel as he negotiates another turn. “That’s not exactly an end to it,” he says. “There’s going to be a trial, there will be reporters, there will be more questions…”

Trailing off, he shakes his head. “It’s a fucking mess.”

I think about what Campbell had started to say the other day at coffee, about Eddie’s temper. The caterer who screwed up, Bea laughing it off, but Eddie …

No.

No, I told myself I wasn’t going to allow those kinds of thoughts anymore. He asked me to trust him, and I will.

“We’ve got each other,” I remind him.

Eddie’s expression softens slightly as he looks over at me. “Yeah, there is that, isn’t there?”

He smiles, leaning over to lightly brush his lips over my cheek. He smells good, like he always does, but underneath the spicy, expensive scent of cologne is the smokier smell of bourbon, and for a minute, I’m reminded so viscerally of Tripp that I nearly jerk my head back.

But Eddie is nothing like Tripp, and we’ve just been at a party, for fuck’s sake. Of course he smells a little like nice booze. I probably still smell like those glasses of sauvignon blanc Emily pushed on me.

The house is lit up as we pull into the driveway, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when I get used to the idea that I live here. That this gorgeous house is all mine.

Well, mine and Eddie’s.

I have another glass of wine when we get in while Eddie answers some late-night emails, and then I decide I’m going to take a bath. I can’t get enough of that giant tub, of being able to use it whenever I want.

Walking into the bathroom, I’m already shucking off my dress, letting it hit the marble floor without a care in the world even though it costs more than my rent at John’s place did.