Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I frown. “That’s immature. Even for Chuck.”
She nods, her brow furrowing. “I know. And I’ve been stalking his social media, and he’s dropped off the face of the earth. He’s never online anymore. Ever.”
“Or he’s blocked you.” My lips pull away from my teeth. “Sorry to introduce that option, but I’ve recently become a lot more social media savvy than I used to be. And it happens. A lot.”
“No, he didn’t block me,” she says with a smug grin. “I know because I follow him under a fake bikini model profile. No one blocks the bikini model.”
“Really? Wow. You’re diabolical.”
She shrugs. “Kind of. A girl’s gotta be in this day and age. But yeah, he’s gone dark, and when I swung by his office to pretend to deliver a lunch order and shame him into giving me my records back in public, there was a temp at his desk.” She frowns, cocking her head sharply to one side. “You don’t think he’s actually a ghost, do you? Like literally?”
My eyes widen. “You mean…dead? Do I think Chuck is dead?”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding faster as she warms to the idea. “I mean, I haven’t googled him, I’ve just been stalking him on socials. What if he’s dead, and I’ve been texting an actual ghost this entire time! I mean, he doesn’t have any family in the area, and his close friends still live in Boston. He could totally lie dead in his house for a week or two without anyone noticing. I was the only one who would have noticed, and I broke up with him and—” Her hand flies to clutch at the top of her fuzzy white sweater. “Oh God, you don’t think he was so upset about the break up that he…” She draws a finger slowly across her throat.
I gulp my drink, needing more bourbon for a conversation like this one. “I don’t think so, honey. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but Chuck loves himself an awful lot. And weren’t you pretty sure he was sleeping with someone else? Isn’t that part of why you ended it?”
She bites her lip. “You’re right. She probably killed him! I mean, not that I can blame her, but I want my records back.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“What?” Makena pokes my leg with her toe. “What’s so funny? I mean, people do get murdered by their lovers. Mostly women, but a scorned female has been known to pick up a knife now and then.” Her eyes are wide again. “Shit! That means I’m going to be the prime suspect! I might have to go on the lam for a crime I didn’t commit. Unless someone with better internet stalking skills than mine can track him down for me…”
Rolling my eyes, I grab my phone from the coffee table. “Fine, I’m on the hunt. Are you happy?”
“Yes,” she says, grinning before she adds with a prim sniff, “but if we find out he’s dead, you owe me an apology.”
Ten minutes later, I’ve confirmed that Chuck is not dead—he’s in Aruba on vacation with his new woman and has indeed blocked Makena’s burner account—and my bestie is pouring us a hot toddy refill.
“Well, shit,” she says, scrunching her nose. “Is it wrong that I was sort of hoping he was dead?”
I snort. “No. He’s an asshole who treated you like crap, cheated on you, and stole your record collection.”
“And never took me to Aruba,” she adds. “Or anywhere else. The Bama Shore for Labor Day doesn’t count.”
“It so doesn’t,” I agree. “And you don’t really want him dead. You just want closure and your records back. Both of which are valid.”
“Thanks.” She nods, studying me over the rim of her mug. “You are social media savvy now.” Her brows lift as her lips curve in a teasing smile. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Those videos you put out with your new honey were fire. You were so beautiful, and he was so beautiful, and the way he looked at you was everything a woman could ever want. My ovaries literally exploded while I was watching.”
“Literally?’ I tease.
“Yes, I’m having surgery to repair them on Monday,” she deadpans. “The doctors are hopeful for a full recovery. And I haven’t forgiven you for keeping your fake marriage a secret, by the way. As your BFF and the person indirectly responsible for introducing you to your hubby, that was a major life development I should have been clued in on, girl. I’m still in my feelings about it, if I’m honest.”
“Even though you’re the only one who knows it was fake?” I ask gently. She’s joking, the way Makena always does, but she’s also not joking. I can tell. “I mean, aside from Grammercy’s Mom?”
She sighs, her nose wrinkling again. “I guess. I just want to feel special, you know? Like I have best friend privileges.”