Chapter 10

10

ASPEN

Deep breaths. Everything’s fine. Act normal. Don’t think about how my life seems to be falling apart at the seams, threads somehow unraveling while I scramble to retie knots here and there. I’m okay, my marriage is lovely and my children are delightful and I must be happy-happy.

But the whole way to the party, I can’t quite shake off the feeling that I’m being followed. And even after I get here, the feeling doesn’t fade. In fact, it intensifies. Am I imagining it, or are people slightly cold toward me? From the corner of my eye, I keep catching lingering looks that are less than friendly. Cold stares that are broken as soon as I glance over. Snippets of whispers, bringing me right back to high school—a place crawling with bored, hormonal teens on the prowl for someone to hurt.

No, stop that. I force a smile, make myself lift my chin. I’m just imagining it. These are my people. Fellow influencers who have chatted with me, who have proclaimed me as their “bestie” or their “sis.”

I’m clutching my champagne flute in front of me like a shield and have to remind myself to lower it. My phone buzzes with a text message.

Something is very wrong. Why aren’t you more worried???

I stuff the phone back into my purse, squashing the feeling of dread as deep down as I can. Scanning the room, I catch sight of a familiar face.

“Remy!” I cry with delight. Remy is one of the OG momfluencers, a glamorous blonde who also happens to be a successful party planner. Our friendship began about a year ago, and we DM each other a few times a month. Hers was one of the many friendships that Mer had accused me of upgrading to when my social media accounts became huge. The thought of Mer and our fight threatens to tug the corners of my mouth down. With a little shake of my head, I banish all thoughts of her. “It’s been so long.”

Remy looks somewhat taken aback to see me. “Aspen!” It takes only a split second for her to conjure up a dazzling smile, but it feels like eons. We kiss the air near each other’s cheeks. “How are you?”

I give a dramatic sigh. “You of all people know how it is, what with the kids and the photo shoots and all. And Elea is still going through her rebellious phase.” It’s part of our thing; Remy and I bonded by commiserating with each other about our crazy schedules and how surprisingly hard and lonely it is at the top.

But instead of laughing and agreeing with me, Remy only gives me a close-lipped smile. “Yeah, I hear you.” Her gaze scans the room.

Again, I shake off the uneasy feeling that’s been plaguing me the whole evening and fight to keep the smile on my face. “Enough about me, what about you, lady? Congratulations on the new partnership with The Orangery, oh my god, you superstar.”

“Thanks, Aspen.” Remy catches sight of someone over my shoulder and waves, her face brightening. “Sorry, girl, I just saw someone I need to say hi to. I’ll catch you later.” She squeezes my arm and is gone before I can say another word.

What the hell? That wasn’t normal, was it? I turn around to see who Remy ditched me for. It’s Tomas, an up-and-coming comedian. What the hell is a momfluencer like Remy talking to a comedian for? That’s someone you talk to if there’s no one else in the room, not someone you ditch a fellow momfluencer for! Then—my skin prickles, my whole body freezes—the two of them, still speaking to each other, look at me.

And it is not a friendly look.

They both catch me watching them, and Tomas says something in Remy’s ear, and she giggles behind her hand before shaking her head. Embarrassment sears my skin. My scalp crawls like it’s about to writhe right off my head. They are talking about me.

I tear my eyes from them, and the next thing I see is another party guest staring at me while whispering something to the person next to him. I cast my gaze desperately, searching for a friendly face but finding none, and the stares and whispers skitter across my skin like insect legs, creeping and cutting their way right into my chest, burying themselves in the cavity of my flesh.

I can’t quite get out of the living room fast enough. There is no networking to be found here. For whatever reason, this crowd has turned its back on me, and its toxin is burning into my skin. Have they seen the footage of me at the doctor’s today? I’ve been monitoring it, and it hasn’t quite gone as viral as I’d feared. But it’s only a matter of time before it completely blows up, right? What am I even doing here? I escape outside and walk to where my car is parked, hoping that the cold night air will refresh me. In the distance, I catch sight of a familiar figure walking rapidly away from the direction where my car is parked.

Meredith?

The dark, waist-length hair is unmistakably hers, but when I try to call out, her name catches in my throat like a sharp fish bone, choking me. The sight of her tears what is left of me into ragged pieces. I wish I could run to her and grab her and beg her for forgiveness. Explain to her that I didn’t mean to alienate her, that the only friendship I hold dear, that means anything to me, is hers. That without her, everything is turning to shit. That I need her. That I miss her so fucking much.

She’s walking too fast for me to catch up, and before I know it, she’s turned down a corner and disappeared. I stand there for what seems like ages, my thoughts churning in a confused mess. It can’t be Meredith. My breath releases in a defeated sigh. There is nothing left for me here. I should go home, be with my family. My steps are slow, heavy with exhaustion.

I’m a few feet away from my car when I notice something weird about it. It seems—I can’t put my finger on it. I quicken my pace, and when I get to my car, a gasp escapes my mouth. It’s sitting lower, closer to the ground. Because all the tires have been slashed. Vicious lacerations that leave no room for interpretation, no possible way this was an accident. Fear smothers me, its stench drowning all of my senses. The slashed rubber tires look gruesome, like an open carcass. Who could’ve done this? The party, everyone staring, whispering . Who hates me this much? The woman who looks so much like Meredith from a distance, hurrying away . No. There’s an explanation for everything, there must—

“Aspen!”

A scream lurches out of me before I can stop myself. I jerk upright and raise my arms defensively.

“Whoa, you okay?”

My heartbeat is thunder, my eyes wild. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to my fight-or-flight instincts and register who’s in front of me.

“Liv!” I squawk. “You scared me.”

My assistant gives a nervous laugh. “Yeah, obviously I did. Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just so surprised to see you out here.”

“What are you doing here?” The question, meant to be casual, comes out accusatory.

“One of my friends invited me as her plus-one. But it got a bit too much for me—there are so many huge stars in there! I came out to get some air. I was looking for you the whole evening, actually.”

Now that my heart is no longer trying to squeeze its way up my throat, I feel a little bit better. Well, less like I’m about to have an anxiety-induced heart attack, at least. Having Liv here helps; she’s so bubbly in a wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve way, and after the pointed looks and snubs at the party, it’s a welcome change.

“Are you off for home now?” Liv says.

“Well, I was, but…” I gesture at my tires. Liv’s gaze follows my hand, and her eyes widen.

“Wow, what the fuck?” she gasps.

Somehow, seeing the shock and horror on her face eases the weight that was crushing my chest a little. It feels comforting to share this horrific incident with someone.

“Yeah, I know,” I mutter.

“Who would do this? That’s messed up!” Liv cries.

For a moment, I consider telling her about Meredith, but I quickly dismiss the idea. The last thing I want is for someone else to know about my fight with Mer. As ridiculous as it sounds, it would feel like a betrayal of Mer. I could never bad-mouth her, not now, not ever. No matter how bad our fight was, Mer will forever be my best friend, my other half.

“I don’t know,” I say finally.

Liv shakes her head and looks around the neighborhood. “I bet it was some teens playing Truth or Dare. They probably thought they were such badasses. God, that sucks. I’m sorry, Aspen. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. It’s late. You can deal with this tomorrow. Or better yet, ask Ben to do it for you.”

I manage a weak smile. Hah. Yeah, ask Ben to take care of this for me. Unlikely. He was so grumpy about me coming to this party in the first place, loading the dishwasher so angrily that I wondered if he would break the crockery. Made snide little remarks about having to stay in and look after our kids on a Friday night. Made other little remarks about how the others would probably bring their spouses to the party. He’s not wrong; many of the attendees did bring their spouses. But I didn’t want to bring Ben, not this Ben, not Unhappily Married Ben. Old Ben—Breadwinner Ben, Head of the Household Ben—was very fun at parties. Current Ben is full of bitterness, his jokes coming out sour with resentment, his eyes full of contempt for anything social media related. I can’t bring Current Ben to a party of influencers, for god’s sake.

Liv keeps up an easygoing chatter as we make our way to her car. It’s a comfortable SUV with a car seat in it. Although she’s worked as my assistant for quite a while now, I’m ashamed to say that I hardly know anything about Liv, aside from the fact that she’s got about a hundred and fifty thousand followers on TikTok and has a baby. A boy? A girl? Their age? I have no idea. I know, it’s awful of me, but Liv mostly works remotely, and I’ve kept our conversations pretty strictly about work only.

Now, as she slips into the driver’s seat, I take in little details about Liv that I haven’t noticed before. We’ve only met two or three times, and each time I was so focused on giving her tasks that I hadn’t stopped and considered her as a person. Liv isn’t naturally pretty, but her makeup and hair are so on point that she does end up looking very attractive. The way she talks is easy and welcoming, and before I know it, I’m relaxed in my seat, watching the LA lights as Liv guides the car down the Hollywood Hills.

Liv glances at me. “You okay? Still thinking about your car?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know, it’s probably a stupid prank, but it really scared me back there.”

Liv gives me a sympathetic grimace. “I bet. I would’ve been freaked out too.” She pauses, then says, “You know what? We’re going to make a pit stop.”

I’m too tired and defeated to argue. It’s almost eleven p.m. now. Usually, I would be in bed reviewing my social media accounts, replying to a few comments, before I turn off the lights and go to sleep. I sit up when Liv drives to an In-N-Out. “Really?” I haven’t had fast food in years.

“Come on, the food at that party was like organic sea-foam on a bed of air. I’m starving,” Liv says. She considers the drive-thru menu and orders two double-doubles with fries and chocolate milkshakes.

My willpower crumbles as soon as the bags are in the car and the scent of the burgers hits my nostrils. I mean, seriously, can anyone resist double cheeseburgers?

“I thought we’d have it in the car so no one sees us and posts about how we’re terrible mothers for eating fast food,” Liv says.

I laugh through a mouthful of meat and cheese. “God, this is so good. Orgasmic.”

“Right? Fuck the organic shit, give me processed meat and cheese anytime,” Liv says. “Not that I would ever tell my kid that.”

I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it.” I hesitate, wondering if I should pretend to know more about her child, but something about Liv makes me not want to lie. “How old is—uh, your…” Son? Daughter? God, I really know nothing about her. I suck. “Sorry, I should know this already.”

“Don’t worry about it, why would you know? You’re busy with your family and your business.” Liv wipes her mouth with a napkin and says, “My daughter is eleven months old. Her name is Rain.” She takes out her phone and shows me a picture of a grinning baby.

“Aww, she is adorable,” I say, smiling. “That’s really close in age to Sabine. We should have a playdate sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Tell me more about you.” I don’t know if it’s guilt talking, or if it’s the endorphins from this delicious meal or what, but I find myself being genuinely interested in Liv’s life.

Liv takes a sip of her milkshake. “Okay, hmm, let’s see. I have an eleven-month-old daughter, I’ve been married for three years…I have a degree in computer science from Berkeley—”

“What?” I practically shout, making her jump. “Seriously?”

Liv looks at me. “Uh. Yeah? Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just that you’re a bona fide genius!”

She laughs. “Oh god, hardly. I mean, am I using my degree? Nope, not at all.”

I cock my head. “Why not?”

“Well, after I graduated, I interned at a tech start-up in NorCal for a while, and it was brutal, man. All that crap you hear about tech bros? It’s true, every single one of them. Like, completely insufferable.”

I snort. “Really? More insufferable than influencers?”

We’re both cackling now. “About the same,” Liv says when our laughter fades. “But in a different way. And maybe I would’ve been okay with it if I didn’t realize something.” Her face turns serious.

“What?”

“That…I hate programming.”

I stare at her. “Seriously?”

She nods. And again, we both burst out laughing. “You’d think I would’ve realized that sooner, right? Before I devoted four years of life to computer science?” Liv cries. “But I didn’t! I guess like, I loved learning about it, but actually having to do it, and stare at the code for hours, sifting through it looking for bugs? Fuck, that was boring as shit. And I just thought—this is it. This is what my life will be for the next forty years. And I kind of uh—went through a depressive episode.”

“A quarter-life crisis,” I say.

“Yeah, exactly. And I was vlogging about it, you know, just putting my thoughts out into the ether, and I started gaining followers. When I got to thirty thousand followers, I decided it was now or never. I was going to make the jump and become an influencer, see how it goes.”

“Wow.” I’m genuinely blown away. Who would’ve thought? “That’s amazing.”

Liv smiles at me. “You know, you were a huge part of that decision.”

“What?” I goggle at her.

“Yeah, when I got pregnant, the algorithm started suggesting all this mommy content to me, and some of it was yours.” Liv’s eyes are bright as she gestures enthusiastically. “That was when I started following you, and your content was just so amazing! I loved everything; your videos were such a highlight to my days. Your yummy recipes, your supercute kids—you made it all look so fun and easy. I was like, ‘This is the kind of mom I wanna be.’?”

“Aww, that is so sweet.” A small part of me feels ever so slightly guilty because that’s exactly the problem—I make it look fun and easy. The truth is a different matter entirely. But hey, Liv’s an adult. She should know it’s all smoke and mirrors.

There’s a moment’s silence, then Liv says, “I’m so glad I ran into you.”

I realize then that I am too. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to have a heart-to-heart like this with anyone, even with Mer. In the months leading up to our fight, there had been a barrier I didn’t understand, our friendship rotting slowly from the inside. Chats with Mer had gone from an easy flow to an awkward friction where I found myself bracing for her to take offense at some innocuous remark, or for her to take a sudden blow at me. My throat closes up at the memory. Why did things get so bad between us? How did it happen? I miss her, but maybe it’s time I let go of the ghost of her. I look at Liv and say, with all sincerity, “I’m really glad too. And…maybe you could work from my house some days? I could give you a few pointers on how to come up with relatable content.”

Liv brightens up. “I would love that! Really? I don’t want to get in the way—”

“You won’t.” There is such a huge hole in my life since Mer disappeared from it. It’s time for me to fill it. “And bring Rain; she and Sabine can entertain each other while us moms work.”

“It’s a date.”

···

My good mood disappears the moment I get home and see Ben’s sulky expression. He’s nursing a beer.

I keep my voice even as I take off my coat. “Hi,” I say, “how were the girls at bedtime?”

He barely glances up at me, eyes still glued to the TV. “Fine.”

Okay then. I guess that’s that. I go to the kitchen, where there are two empty bottles of beer sitting on the counter. Typical. He can’t even be bothered to throw them away. Sighing, I rinse them off and put them in the recycling bin. I’m about to go upstairs when Ben says in a very pointed tone, “How was your night out with the ‘influencers’?”

He doesn’t actually do the air quotes, but the way he says it, you could practically see his fingers doing them. So much venom in that one word alone.

“It was okay.”

“Huh.” He takes another sip of beer. “Yeah? ’Cause it looked like you had a great time. When you came in you were smiling real wide. And I noticed someone dropped you off?”

“Oh!” Somehow, after that great chat with Liv and the In-N-Out and coming home to my poisonous husband, I’d managed to forget about my slashed tires. “Oh my god, I forgot to mention—someone slashed my tires. That’s why Liv had to drop me off.”

Now, finally, Ben looks at me, the sulk temporarily replaced with confusion. “Liv? Your PA?”

“Yeah. She happened to be there as well, which was really fortunate, because—my tires! My god, how crazy is that?”

Ben frowns. “How do you know someone slashed them? Maybe you ran over something.”

I bite back my frustration. Of course, his immediate guess is that I did something wrong. “No,” I say slowly, “they were slashed, Ben. Someone literally took a knife to them.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.” I don’t know what I was expecting from Ben, exactly, but it would’ve been along the lines of shock, horror, concern. Any of the normal reactions that should come from a husband whose wife told him her tires had been slashed.

Instead, Ben merely snorts before taking another swig of beer. Then he says, “Wow. I guess you pissed someone off.”

I stare at him, my husband of seven years. What happened to us? I know in my heart we weren’t like this before. One of the reasons I fell in love with him was because he was so generous, so gentle, so supportive. I remember how, when we were dating, I got a mean comment (Hah! How naive I was back then, how soft, to let one negative comment ruin my day). Ben had been so sad to see me so heartsick over it. He’d whisked me away for a day at Venice Beach to take my mind off it. He plied me with churros and shaved ice, and kissed the top of my head and told me I was perfect and that people were being ugly only because they knew how imperfect they were in comparison. If Old Ben had heard about someone sabotaging my car, he would’ve jumped out of his seat and fussed over me, making sure I was okay before telling me he’d take care of everything. The thought makes me want to sob.

I’m too tired to get into anything with him right now, though, so as usual, I swallow my anger. I tell myself it’s fine, he’s probably tired, too, after a night of looking after the kids all by himself. And maybe the whole tire thing is too bizarre for him to grasp in the moment, especially after three beers. He still loves you , I assure myself as I trudge up the stairs alone. He just needs some time to…go through whatever it is he’s going through. A midlife crisis? Seven-year itch?

As soon as the thought hits, it spreads like cancer. Is Ben having another affair? Maybe that’s why he can barely stand to look at me. Maybe every time he sees me, he’s wishing I were somebody else. I thought we were beyond this by now. I thought he’d learned his lesson.

My hands are shaking by the time I get inside our bedroom. I sit on the bed alone, gripping the edge of the mattress tight. Mer would know what to say. She always said the right thing. She’d assure me that I’m too hot to be cheated on, or something equally ridiculous that would make me smile. I take out my phone and click on her name. I send just three words.

I miss you.

There is no reply. She’s not going to read it. Nobody holds a grudge quite like Mer does.