Chapter 8

8

E LIZABETH

Thursday

I pick the worst moment to tell Chloe I won't go to her party.

I wanted to tell her last week in the store when Rain talked about her Halloween party. But then we ran into Eve and chatted about other stuff.

On Saturday night, Chloe and I went out, but things weren’t the same. She seemed distracted, and I couldn't focus on anyone in the club.

We ended up in a diner where we ate hush puppies, scrambled eggs, and pancakes topped with whipped cream and maple syrup.

She seemed downcast for some reason, and I couldn’t make myself bring it up to her.

I knew then––as I know now––that she wouldn’t buy my story and, for sure, like the idea of me not going to her party.

She probably would’ve wanted to know what was so important that I couldn’t share with her.

So, I’m trying to break it up to her now.

Dolled up in Halloween costumes––she wears a witch costume, which is comprised of a short black dress, a sizable wand, and a pointed hat, and I rock a Viking warrior costume with a tiny plastic sword attached to my belt, a corset top, a short skirt with lace-up details, and a hat with horns––we ride in the back of a limousine.

We both agreed we needed to arrive in style.

So, I’m clearing my throat and giving her a side-eyed glance, trying to figure out her mood.

She sits in her corner, her eyes on the dark view outside.

Yeah, this is probably not the best moment to tell her I can’t make it.

So what should I do?

Her party is tomorrow evening, and I’m supposed to be on a flight to New York tomorrow afternoon.

I open my mouth to speak when her phone buzzes in her hand.

She tips her gaze, her eyebrows shoot up, and a frown forms across her brow.

Her lips pucker with displeasure.

She doesn’t answer, flips her phone over, drops her hand to her side, and stares out the window again.

Her phone pings two more times before straight out ringing.

She doesn’t flinch.

That’s not good.

And there’s no point in telling her I’ll be a no show tomorrow night, ruining her evening even more.

Hopefully, I’ll come up with an excuse before I leave tomorrow afternoon.

We roll through the gates, and my focus moves to the trees adorned with strings of lights.

Eerie ghosts dangle from their branches, dancing in the wind, while giant spiders, skeletons, and jack o’ lanterns litter both sides of the road.

“Look at that…” I murmur, fascinated with the view.

“It’s pretty,” she says, sunk in thought.

Silence envelopes her last words before we arrive at Rain’s house.

Spider cobs, more lights, and cauldrons overflowing with candy greet us when we step out of the car and head to the entrance.

More guests must be nearby as voices ring inside the house. The housekeeper greets us and shows us around.

And what I’m seeing next is not what I expected.

Lavishly decorated rooms crammed with people. Mostly adults. Some have their children with them. Some are single like us.

Everybody wears a costume, which makes it difficult to know who is who.

“Oh, man. Did you know it would be like this?” Chloe slips under her breath.

“I had no idea,” I utter, barely moving my lips.

“Fuck. Who are these people?” she asks quietly, glancing around the house.

“Guests, I guess?”

“They could be anyone.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. And I suggest we drink to that.”

We pick up a couple of fruity drinks and blend in.

The party is fantastic. The kids are adorable, the food is excellent, and we only exchange a few words with Rain and Thea. We get to see Vivian, Leia, and James.

Later, we spend some time in the backyard.

Chloe excuses herself and looks for a bathroom while I roam around, admiring the property. My fingers itch to snap a photo of myself and send it to David.

I do just that after finding a nice corner on the patio, where I lean against the handrail, lift my arm to take a selfie, and also capture the scenic view behind me.

Furtively, I check my pictures and send them to him.

Still astonished by the view––it never gets old––I study the house with my phone still clutched in my hand.

The gadget vibrates instantaneously.

David: I want you to take that costume off for me tonight .

Laughing, I type a reply, promising him just that, when a soft rustling wafts from nearby, and a man holding a glass of wine approaches me.

He wears a superb mask, yet even so, it’s hard not to recognize James Sexton.

His confidence and athletic frame are unique. I take the glass from him, noticing that he has his own drink.

I can’t say I’m not intimidated by his presence.

He must be here for a reason.

“Elizabeth, right?” he says as if my costume has stood a chance to make me unrecognizable.

“Yes.”

He leans against the balustrade and tips his chin to the house.

“How do you like the party?”

“It’s amazing,” I say quickly before taking a sip of wine to hide my nerves.

Swallowing, I look at the open doors, hoping to see Chloe walk this way. I don’t know why he makes me so nervous.

I think he makes everybody nervous.

‘That, and you’re also a liar and banging his business partner,’ the voice inside my head reminds me.

‘Not now,’ I dismiss her.

A few seconds pass, and I don’t think I have a pulse as he takes a drink of his scotch.

“My wife told me you were writing a book. Are you still doing that?” he asks, and my heart stops.

I hold his gaze for what feels like a century.

James Sexton is now fishing for information?

If he wanted a reaction, he surely got it. Although I can’t read anything on his face.

I don’t know what to do.

Stammer? Come clean? Lie like it’s an Olympic sport?

He’s not just interested in the scribblings of an aspiring writer. He’s most likely curious about something else.

And that something else escapes me.

I know it has to do with David. It must have to do with him. I see no other reason for asking me that.

He’s not really interested in an answer, either.

He set me up and wanted to see how I’d react. That’s why I think he got what he had hoped for.

If this is about David, and it must be, he’s not interested in me as much as he is curious about my role in his business partner’s life and how it may affect his business.

It’s always about the business, isn’t it?

Oh, I so wish Chloe would show up already.

But what is it?

What has clued James in?

And what makes him think I might have something to do with David?

What if he’s bluffing and acting on a hunch, and I’m giving myself away?

I struggle to come up with the best answer, but somehow, I open my mouth and speak.

“You must also know she has inspired me?” I toss at him. Again, I can’t read anything on his face. “Writing this book is still on my bucket list, but it won’t happen anytime soon. My muse is flimsy, to say the least,” I try to joke.

“Well,” he says, flashing a smile and swiftly wrapping it up. “Never give up. I’m sure it will be a success,” he adds before smoothly tearing away from me while my heart falls back into place and starts throbbing normally again.

ELIZABETH

Me: Where are you?

I push send and wait for a few moments before typing another message.

Me: Chloe?

A few moments pass while I empty my glass of wine.

Finally, she responds.

Chloe: I’ll be there in a few.

“What?”

Me: I’m ready to leave.

I’m overly dramatic, but I need her to come out.

Chloe: Not yet.

“What is wrong with her?” I mutter to myself.

She sounds like she’s talking to someone else while shooting me these cryptical messages.

Okay. All right.

I’ll go look for her.

I pick up my empty glass from the balustrade, walk inside, and place it on a table.

Cutting my way through groups of guests, I remember I hadn’t had the chance to talk to Thea.

I glance around, not knowing if she’s still here. She must be upstairs with Rain and the kids.

Sliding behind more people, I reach the stairs.

I hope I’m not getting in trouble for going upstairs. I’m sure Chloe looked for a bathroom on the first floor, yet something tells me to head that way.

Upstairs.

I try the doors of a couple of bathrooms.

She’s not here. No one is here. So I turn around to go downstairs. I don’t want to get caught wandering around the house with no good reason.

I reach the head of the stairs when I hear a voice and go back. Walking down the corridor, I listen.

That sounded like Chloe’s voice. A few steps later, I reach an open door and peer inside.

It’s a home office, I think. Or maybe a reading room like the one Thea has in her house.

Shelves of books crawl up the walls, and an antique desk sits in the middle with a couple of chairs, a loveseat, and a couch.

Rain and Chloe have their backs turned to the entrance when my steps meet a soft rug.

Despite not hearing me enter the room, they don’t get startled as I near them.

They both acknowledge me but don’t stop their conversation.

My eyes move over the stack of books in front of us and settle on a book that looks eerily similar to the one David has gifted me.

Eventually, Chloe looks at me.

“Rain has shown me her book collection,” she says, and I nod while Rain drones on about books different than the one inspired by David Moore.

Despite all that, she picks up a book that is exactly like the special edition I'm familiar with.

Her words get lost in the crevices of my mind while my eyes hover over that book.

The hardcovers are as beautiful as I remember, and knowing what I know now about her writings makes me blush.

And then, my eyes trace something else, and before long, my heart comes to a full stop, and I can’t breathe.

The blood drains from my body as I stare at that book, unable to think coherently.

Rain and Chloe seem removed from my universe as I struggle to come to terms with what I’m seeing.

I don’t know how much time passes.

All I know is that at some point, Rain excuses herself and leaves the room while Chloe turns to me.

Her eyes grow quickly worried.

“Are you sick?” she asks, sliding her hand to my forearm.

“I want to go home,” I say quietly. “I don’t know. I don’t feel well,” I add, using the opportunity she's practically handed me to get out of going to tonight’s party and tomorrow's one as well.

“Sure. We can go. Something happened?” she asks as we spin around and head to the door.

“No. Nothing happened,” I say in a cold voice made of steel.

How can I explain to her what I’ve just seen?

Oh my.

Rain knew that all along. Of course she did. And James knew that too.

The day I asked her to sign my book, she recognized it as part of her special edition, yet she forgot to mention these books were all numbered, and she most likely knew who had bought that book and gifted it to me.