Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

JAKE

Lainey tells Mrs. Rosings about the necklaces she found in Nina's bag, and as a reward, her boss says she doesn't have to report to work on Halloween. The tea is still a go, so I'm guessing it's going to be a doozy.

We dress up like the characters I created for us, because why the hell not, and spend Halloween handing out candy to kids at Claire's bakery since no kids would ever venture far enough to show up at the cabin.

The next couple of days slide past in the way that only really good days do, one spilling into the next without any regard for all the not-so-great shit on the horizon. I've always been the type of guy who'd prefer to live in the moment—the past wasn't exactly great, and the future is only a possibility, not a guarantee, and I've wanted to do that even more now. Because even though I don't want to leave Elaine, I have to be realistic—if shit goes south, life might do it for me.

I might get pulled back in by Roark, or worse, I might get taken in by the police. Put in a cell with no escape.

Anthony texted on Friday to say that Nina had actually invited him to her friends' party. I think he'd still like to be deluded about her, because he went.

Now, it's Sunday, D-Day. Or rather Tea-Day.

Joy has sent me several follow-up texts asking what "vibe" we want at Anthony's tea, so I don't know what the fuck to expect on the tea front. I suspect it will be memorable, although all Lainey and I care about is finding out if anyone in the house knows where we can find the necklace.

I'm worried about Ryan. In the check-in photo Roark sent this morning, his color looked off. He's been stuck at Roark's place for too long. Weeks. If I couldn't hack it for one night in that room in Lainey's place, then what must it feel like for him?

I'm itchy to end this thing. To end it, and hopefully start a new life.

Lainey watches me as I pack into the beat-up car beside her. Even though Jake Jeffries's piece-of-shit car is now in better shape than this one, we always take hers by some silent agreement, as if she's fond of it too.

"We'll get the necklace," she tells me.

I nod, but I'm not so sure I believe that anymore.

What the alternative is, I don't know, although I'm guessing it will be more dangerous for all of us, something that makes me doubly uncomfortable now that Elaine is officially involved.

I glance back at the house, and Damien and Nicole are standing in the doorway waving to us like they're proud parents.

"Is it just me," I mutter, "or do you feel like we're kids they're sending off to school?"

"I think that's exactly what they're doing," she says. "They're letting us handle this."

Or letting us think they are.

She starts driving, and my heart thumps an unnatural rhythm, like she's taking me to my doom rather than a tea with a dysfunctional family.

It's only then that I register that I've done zero additional research about which methods a therapist might use at a meeting like this. "Do you think it matters that I still don't know dick all about therapy?"

She laughs, a breezy sweet sound that helps settle me. A bit. "No, actually. I'm guessing none of them have been to therapy. And in this case, I don't think the best outcome is for them to suddenly get along and weave friendship bracelets together." Her lips press together. "Nina's got to go."

I nod, knowing both of us are thinking of blond dick. When Anthony told me he was going to Nina's friend's party the other night, I just barely kept myself from asking if the host was a blond guy. He deserves a warning. Mrs. Rosings knows about the stolen jewelry, though, and given the lengths she's gone to in order to prevent this marriage, I think we can count on her pulling through for us.

Too soon, Elaine pulls up to Anthony's house. She parks at the curb because there are already four cars in the driveway.

"Looks different from the front," I tell her, my mouth hitching up.

"Good," she says with an answering smile, "because we've never been here before."

"I absolutely didn't fuck you in their closet and get hit in the head by a kickball."

"Why do you think they even have a kickball? You think they take it out for some pick-up games with Mrs. Rosings?"

I lean in and kiss her, feeling a pulse of gratitude for this one thing in my life that's suddenly right, and then we pile out of the car.

When we get to the door, Nina answers it. She has a tight, ungenerous smile and is wearing a sweater set with pearls. "So glad you could make it," she says. "Your friend is already here."

She shows us into the living room we swept through two nights ago. It hasn't noticeably changed, although someone removed the framed pictures that were propped against the wall.

Mrs. Rosings is sitting in an overstuffed armchair, her back as straight as a queen's, and Anthony is sitting beside her on an adjacent loveseat, wearing an expensive dress shirt and slacks, like he's dressing for the job he has but not necessarily the one he wants. He smiles at me, but there's no real happiness in the expression. He's on edge, caught between two women he doesn't understand or necessarily like.

The only happy person in the room is Joy, who has already set up the tea service on the coffee table, complete with a two-tier snack tray, savory on the bottom and sweet up top. Elaine's friend Rosie is standing with her, but there's something off about her. She's chewing on the ends of her hair as if they'd been dipped in sugar.

"Oh good, you've deigned to bless us with your presence," Mrs. Rosings says without rising from her chair. "Do sit."

It's clearly an order, not a request, and even though my natural response to orders is to give them the middle finger and walk out, I do as I'm told and sit on the loveseat. Elaine settles onto the cushion beside me, and Rosie makes sure everyone has a cup of steaming tea that I don't have the slightest inclination to drink.

I hate tea. I've hated it ever since we stayed with our third foster family. The mother always plied everyone with tea, and if you didn't drink it, you were failing her.

It looks like everyone else has been sipping from their cups, though, and I don't want to insult Joy, so when Lainey lifts her cup for a sip, I pretend to do the same.

"Well, thank you all for coming," Nina says, joining us and reprising her place beside Anthony. She picks up a half-drunk cup of tea and takes another sip. "Can you tell us a bit about the tea you prepared for us, Joy? It's delicious ."

Anthony wobbles a little in his seat, making me wonder if he has a flask on his person.

Joy smiles beatifically at Nina, then spreads her smile around as if she doesn't mind sharing. "It's a special blend with some ingredients that I grow myself. Very enlightening." She pointedly winks at me.

Everyone falls silent, and it hits me that they're all looking my way. If I were really Therapist Jake Jeffries, I'd have something to say about everyone getting along. Maybe lead a group round of "Kumbaya." If I were a different kind of guy, a careful one, I'm sure I would have spent the last few days buried in psychology books instead of buried in Lainey, but I have no regrets. On my tombstone, if anyone bothers to get one for me, it'll say: At least he enjoyed himself.

But we're here to get them talking, so get them talking I will.

"Why don't we play a little game?" I say, setting my tea cup and plate down on the coffee table.

"I'm not averse to playing games," Mrs. Rosings says, then shifts her head to study Nina. "Are you, dear?"

"Not at all," she says tightly, glancing at Anthony. "I love kickball."

What now?

I exchange a look with Lainey, who's got to be thinking what I am—did we leave something in the basement closet? But I shake it off and continue, "We're going to play a little game called Never Have I Ever. When it's your turn, you'll tell us something you've never done, and the people who have done it will need to drink tea."

Lainey snorts beside me, giving me a sidelong look that tells me I wouldn't make it far as a therapist. Fair enough.

"I'll go first," I say, deciding it would be best to break them in with something easy but potentially still informative. A soft ball of a question. "Never have I ever met Anthony's sister, Emma."

Mrs. Rosings, Nina, and Anthony all take a long sip of tea.

Lainey's sitting next to me, so it's her turn to go next. She clears her throat, then says, "Never have I ever tried on the Heart of the Mountain."

Mrs. Rosings immediately lifts the teacup to her lips. Nina glances at her, then drinks, which suggests she tried on the necklace with her mother-in-law's permission. Disappointing but not particularly surprising since Mrs. Rosings set it out as bait. It would be better bait if Nina knew she wanted it—if she'd felt its cool weight at her neck.

A beat passes, and then Anthony laughs a little and drinks as well.

Nina's eyes flick to him. "You didn't."

"I did. I was seven. I wanted to know how much it would weigh."

They both laugh, and it's almost a nice moment—or it would have been if I didn't feel the strange undercurrents between them.

We make it through a few rounds of the game without anything particularly interesting coming to light other than that Anthony hates tuna fish and has never met Nina's parents, Nina dislikes dogs, and Mrs. Rosings never plans on leaving Smith House. But there's a weird vibe developing in the room that I can't quite put my finger on.

Nina has commented on the pattern of the carpet three times, and Mrs. Rosings keeps calling Anthony by his father's name. Lainey has been staring at her hands as if they contain all the mysteries of the universe.

"It's your turn, Nina," I say, but she points at the carpet.

"Did you bring that snake with you?" she asks, accusatory. "I don't like snakes. No one likes snakes."

"What on earth are you talking about, you insipid girl?" Mrs. Rosings snaps. "There are no snakes here. This carpet is beautiful . One of a kind. It was handwoven by—"

"Children, probably," Anthony says bitterly, running a hand over his jaw before glancing over his shoulder again. "Father bought it, after all. Why do you keep calling me Adrien, mother?"

Something passes over Mrs. Rosings's face. "Because you look…in this light, why, you look exactly like him."

Anthony looks sickened by the thought. "You hated him."

"So did you."

I shift my gaze to Lainey, giving her a what the fuck is happening look, but her gaze is still fixed on her hands. She's moving her fingers slowly, her gaze riveted on the lines on her palm. I take her hand in mine, and she gasps and looks up at me, her pupils so dilated the brown is nearly swallowed by black.

My eyes fly wide, and I glance around at the others. They all have dilated pupils. This time, I dart a glance at Joy, who gives me a thumbs up from the periphery of the room. Rosie is standing next to her with a worried look on her face as she glances around at everyone.

Alarm pumps through my veins, and I look at my full teacup, sitting on the table, and all of the other cups, nearly empty. The conclusion is obvious: Joy dosed their tea with something, and they're all high as kites.

"Joy," I say, my voice unsteady. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, dear," she says, looking mildly alarmed.

I get up, handing Lainey back her hand, palm up, and tug Joy into the hallway leading to the bathroom and then the bedroom. "You said this tea is a special blend. What's in it?" I ask through my teeth, trying not to lose my temper. I like Joy, and if she just dosed everyone at the party, I'm guessing she thought she was being helpful.

"You told me you wanted everyone to be honest with each other, sweetheart," she says, sending a worried look back to the living room.

I hear the word "snakes" and "palm" from down the hall.

"I didn't want to resort to drugging them," I say flatly.

"There's nothing inorganic in there," she hedges, "just a bit of dried mushrooms from my garden, but I take small doses all the time. It helps me connect with Mortimer. I thought it would be exactly the thing to help everyone here connect with their greater truth."

If I weren't convinced this was about to fuck me over, I'd probably laugh. Because I'm pretty damn sure this is the first and only time Mrs. Dahlia Rosings has ever tried magic mushrooms, let alone Anthony and Nina.

"Joy," I say tightly. "You can't just give people psychedelics without telling them. That's something you could get arrested for."

"They're not drugs," she insists, her always pink cheeks getting pinker. "They're one hundred percent natural. Mushrooms . From a garden. Nothing you grow in soil can hurt you."

"What about cocaine? Hemlock? Fuck, what about mushrooms ? Mushrooms kill people."

She averts her head to the side. "It's the quantity that can do the killing, and it was really the smallest dose, honey. They'll all be fine."

"They'd better be."

I'm slightly reassured that she looks more remorseful than concerned. But it fucking bothers me, a lot, that Lainey's under the influence of something without having chosen it. The others too.

"Is there anything we can give them to reverse the affects?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

Only time will do the trick.

Joy looks worried now, like she realizes she messed up, but it's too late for all of the people in there to undrink the tea. It hits me that I very much know how that feels—doing something stupid on impulse and then having to pay the price.

I reach out and squeeze her hand. "We'll deal with it. It's okay. Just…Jesus…just promise me this is the last time you'll ever dose anyone with mushrooms or anything else they don't know about."

She nods several times, her hands messing with her sweater as she peers into the living room.

"We should go back," I say, needing to check on Lainey. Needing, also, to see if we can at least make use of this mess and get the information we need.

We return to the other room just as Nina rises unsteadily to her feet, her gaze fixed on the rug. Mrs. Rosings and Anthony don't appear to notice, because they're in the thick of arguing about something related to his father. I slide onto the couch next to Lainey, who's tracing a finger across her palm, murmuring under her breath. She's okay. She's going to be okay. I put an arm around her and lean in close. "Lainey, I don't want you to panic," I whisper, "but there was something in the tea. Mushrooms."

She glances at me sharply, her eyes wide. " Mushrooms? " she repeats in an undertone. No one's paying attention to us—Nina just climbed up onto the couch and shouted. "There's so many of them! They're hissing!"

"Is that what that noise is?" Anthony mutters.

Nodding to Lainey, I move my hand over her back in a slow caress.

"Oh. My. God," she whispers, her eyes shifting from Nina to Anthony, who's rubbing his forehead now, and then Mrs. Rosings. Her boss has a distant look on her face, as if she's not seeing what's in front of her but a different tableau, from another place and time. Her departed husband, maybe.

"I'm here with you," I say, rubbing Lainey's back in that same repetitive pattern, hoping it helps ground her.

"Anthony, I don't like snakes," Nina says, getting onto her tiptoes as if that can save her from the snakes in her head.

"Fooled me," Mrs. Rosings retorts with a snort and then clucks her tongue. "Get down from there. You look like you're auditioning to be an exotic dancer."

Anthony hesitates and then gets to his feet and steps onto the couch too, wrapping his arms around Nina. "It's okay, Nina, there are no snakes. There's just that strange sound. It's like my ears are buzzing. Are your ears buzzing? And the room looks different. It's…it's really dull in here. Where'd all the pictures go?"

"You're worrying about pictures at a time like this?" Nina snaps. "There are at least a dozen snakes in the carpet."

"There aren't any snakes," he repeats. "Why don't you sit down with me and drink some—"

"Water," I say sharply, nodding to Joy and Rosie, who's been watching everything with a wide-eyed look that suggests she wasn't in on the psychedelics plan. Good, because otherwise I'd fear for the world with the two of them living in the same apartment. "Can you get everyone some water?"

"I'll do it," Rosie agrees quickly, peeling off from the living room before I can tell her where the kitchen is.

"Someone's getting you water," Anthony says to Nina. "You're going to be okay. Let's sit down."

"I don't like snakes," Nina repeats in a lower voice, then glances back down at the floor, blinking rapidly.

The optical illusion must have eased temporarily, because she sits down with him as if none of it had happened and primly looks up at me. "Is it my turn? I lost track."

"Just a second," I say, figuring I should find Rosie and redirect her. "I need to use the restroom."

Lainey looks up at me. "It's down the hall and the last door on the left."

"Why do you know where our bathroom is?" Nina asks, gasping. "No one's gone back to use it yet."

Lainey swears under her breath, then starts laughing, burying her head into the arm I still have wrapped around her.

Nina's dilated eyes fix on her. "It was you! Those were your underwear in the downstairs closet."

Well, fuck.

Turning toward Anthony, still sitting next to her on the couch, Nina smacks him across the face with her open palm while he gapes at her. "How dare you screw your mother's assistant in our house! Never have I ever fucked someone in our closet. Honestly, the closet ?"

She picks up the nearly empty teacup sitting in front of Anthony on the table and shoves it at his chest, splashing warm tea all over his collared shirt.

He continues to gape at her as if he doesn't understand what's going on, probably because he doesn't, and his mind is further muddled by the tea. I feel another wave of sympathy for him. He's in so far over his head he can no longer see anything but water.

"Oh dear," I hear Joy mutter from her position by the wall. She wanders off, presumably to help Rosie. Or maybe she's just appalled by her own handiwork.

"Are you accusing my son of infidelity?" Mrs. Rosings says, rising to her feet. " You? I saw you and Wilson canoodling, but I knew if I told Anthony he'd never believe me. He's too trusting."

Something flashes over Nina's face as the name clicks into place for me. Wilson is one of Anthony's friend's—his buddy from college or something like that. He's mentioned him a few times at our drink meetings.

"Is that blond dick?" Lainey asks, swatting at my arm. "You're talking about blond dick, aren't you? We saw the photos."

"What the fuck is going on?" Anthony snaps, pulling the now-empty teacup from Nina's hand and throwing it at the fireplace. It bounces off of the grate before landing right-side up on the carpet. He gapes at it, as if the cup's failure to break represents a deeper failure.

Mrs. Rosings clears her throat and grips the arm of her chair as if to steady herself. "The floor is…" She shakes her head and meets Anthony's gaze. "What's going on is that Nina has been unfaithful and is accusing you of being unfaithful. It's a classic ruse for people of despicable character. You can not marry her."

Anthony turns to Nina, his expression desperate. He looks like a man being torn in half. "Nina, is that true?"

"There were underwear in the closet, Anthony," she deflects, lifting her chin. "A woman's underwear. I'm surprised you weren't more discreet."

Screw it. Might as well come partially clean, since we've already been backed into a corner.

"Those were Lainey's underwear," I admit.

"I knew it," Nina practically shrieks, banging a fist against the tea spot on Anthony's chest. He flinches but doesn't try to push her away.

I shake my head, seeking out his gaze. "Your mother asked Lainey to come by the other night to look for proof that Nina was up to something, and I came as her lookout. We kind of got carried away in the closet. Sorry."

"Oops," Lainey says, laughing softly. "Oops-a-daisy."

Anthony looks like he got pole-axed and then run over by a car. Maybe it's a blessing that he's high on whatever Joy dosed everyone with. "You broke into my house and fucked your girlfriend in my closet?"

At my nod, he says, "I thought you were my friend."

I could object that I'd only done it to be a good boyfriend. That I'd thought I was helping him out too, but some kind of madness compels me to be honest. Maybe because I truly feel like I've wronged this man. Maybe because I've stumbled onto the need to make amends, and he's on my list. I take in a deep breath and say, "That's because I wanted you to think that."

"You're no different from the rest of them," he says. "Everyone wants something, and no one's honest about what they want." The look of accusation in his dilated eyes hammers into me.

He doesn't say anything else to me, or to Nina, who's busy glaring at Mrs. Rosings. He just lowers down onto carpet, which has a pattern that does resemble a mass of snakes, pulls his knees up, and buries his head into his hands.

Fuck, this isn't good. None of this is good. There's a sick feeling in my chest, made worse by the sight of Anthony sitting on the floor. Seeing him like that makes me hate myself.

I was dishonest with him. I tried to make myself see him as a spoiled rich kid. An entitled asshole. But he's not, or he's not only those things. He's a person, and today, he's a person who got dosed with mushrooms and then found out his fiancée has been cheating on him and his new best buddy has been lying to him. I want to comfort him, but I'm the one who caused part of the damage, and there's nothing I can do except be sorry for it.

"Now, Nina," Mrs. Rosings says, still holding onto one of the arms of her chair for dear life. "This is your goodbye party, and I think we can all agree it would be better if it came to a close. Your bag is already packed, because you already packed it, and Lainey tells me there are five necklaces nestled inside. Very expensive necklaces."

Nina's eyes bulge. "I didn't—"

"Yes," Mrs. Rosings says flatly. " You did . It was clever of you not to take anything from my bedroom. I don't know how you got into the basement safe, but a thief has her ways. I'm only surprised you were clumsy enough to lose the Heart of the Mountain since you went to the trouble of getting such a fine replica made."

What's this now?

Lainey leans into me, her hair tickling my ear, and stage-whispers loudly enough for everyone to hear, "She's talking about the Heart of the Mountain."

She's adorable, and I might be about to get busted for any number of things, so I take the opportunity to kiss the side of her face. "Yes, I picked up on that, hellcat."

"But I didn't do that," Nina says, and this time I can tell she means it. It's there in her tone and the honest confusion painted all over her face.

Rosie and Joy walk back in with a pitcher of water and five glasses, but when Rosie sees Anthony curled up on the floor next to the sofa, she sets the pitcher down on the coffee table with a resounding crack. Then she goes to him and wraps a hand around his shoulder before leaning in and whispering something into his ear.

He looks up, his expression as astonished as a man who's seen the face of God, and says, "Who are you?"

"I'm Rosie," she says simply, her hand still on his shoulder.

My attention shifts to Mrs. Rosings, whose hard gaze is on Nina. "You're trying to tell me that you didn't steal the Heart of the Mountain, replace it with a fake, and then hide the necklace in a bush? You must have been surprised when it wasn't still there when you went back for it." She huffs out a bitter laugh. "As if I wouldn't have a tracker on my most expensive piece of jewelry."

"I didn't take it," Nina huffs. "I wouldn't know how to sell something like that." She lifts her hand to her mouth as if she could stuff the words back in.

"I'm the one who took it," someone says in a small but forceful voice.

It's Rosie, her hand still on Anthony's shoulder. And as everyone turns to stare at her, she bursts into tears.