Chapter 25

25

If it’s possible to black out while still standing, then that’s exactly what happens when Ben tells me that they found Mer. One moment I’m there, listening to Ben; the next moment, it’s like I’ve plunged underwater. Every sound is muted and hollow, every movement thick and slow. I stay there for a while, in that peaceful, quiet space between one second to the next, not wanting to resurface. From afar, Ben’s voice calls out my name. I ignore him until he reaches out and shakes my arm, jerking me back to the present.

“Aspen!” he shouts. “Are you okay?”

I look at him, dazed, and let him lead me to the couch.

“Sit down.” He pushes down on my shoulder gently, as though I’ve forgotten how to sit down on the sofa. And maybe I have, because one moment I’m standing, and the next moment I’m sitting, and I have no idea when that happened.

“How?” I manage to choke out.

If Ben thinks it is a suspicious question to ask, he doesn’t show it. “Some divers came across it.”

Divers. I should’ve seen this coming. As Ben takes Sabine into the nursery, I stare blankly at the wall. My mind is still struggling to catch up with everything that’s happening. The past few days, I somehow managed to convince myself that everything would be alright, and now, all of a sudden, everything is crumbling. I place my hand on my inner thigh and pinch, hard, digging my nails into the skin until I suck in my breath in a hiss. The pain is a sharp lance spearing through the fog in my mind.

Get a grip , I snarl mentally at myself. This is not the time to fall apart. You cannot afford to be weak, submissive Aspen. There is no room for that Aspen. Not unless you want to land in prison .

I keep pinching until the pain is all I’m aware of. By the time I let go, I’m panting slightly, and my thigh is throbbing. It worked, though. I’m no longer underwater. Okay. Let’s think.

So they found her body. How the hell did they find her body? This would never have happened if I could’ve buried her in that hole I’d prepared. It’s so unfair how I had to derail my meticulous plans because some asshole found the hole I’d dug out in the desert.

Stop that , I scold myself. No use harping on that. The most important thing is to figure out what they know .

Another wave of despair threatens to overwhelm me, but I shove it away. They know that Meredith is dead, obviously. Okay…so what will they think? Who would they suspect? Well, there’s no reason why they wouldn’t still think it was a Joe Goldberg situation. Right? That’s the most obvious suspect. Meredith was an attractive single woman. She was on most dating apps. She partied a lot. Chances are, they’ll still think it was some guy who was obsessed with her. Definitely not me, the best friend who created a GoFundMe page for Meredith’s sister and child. I’ll still be okay. Nothing has changed.

God, I’m coming up with some really desperate bullshit. Everything has changed. Before, there was still a chance that Meredith left of her own accord. There were even rumors about it flying around; people who insisted they saw her in Bali or the Maldives #LivingHerBestLife. Now, all those theories have been smashed to hell. And the focus will shift from finding Mer to finding her killer. The noose around my neck is tightening.

But there’s nothing I can do, aside from sit tight and maybe post a couple of videos about how distraught I am over the news. With shaking hands, I take out my phone and turn it back on. The notifications come in a never-ending cascade of beeps, so many all at once that it almost turns into one long beep—an alarm shrieking straight to the center of my skull. And for the first time in my life, I feel a desperate need to get away from my phone. I grip it tight, wanting to fling it away as hard as I can and watch it shatter against the wall, but somehow, a part of me remains that hasn’t been whittled down into an animalistic state. A part of me hangs on to its senses. A part of me swipes up on my phone and turns it to Silent mode.

Sweet, blessed silence. Still, the top part of the phone screen is constantly moving as more and more notifications come in. I lick my lips. Bone-dry. What to open first? Definitely not social media. I can’t deal with that just yet. I open my messages.

Clara: Aspen, call me ASAP

Clara: They found Mer’s body

Clara: My sister is dead

Clara: Where the fuck are you???

My breath comes out in a tiny whimper. I close her text messages. There is a string of messages from my other friends, and the school moms’ text group is blowing up. I skip over all of them. I tap on my message chain with Liv.

Liv: OMG ASPEN??!!! DID YOU HEAR??? HOLY SHIT!!!

Liv: Rain has a cough so I’m at the pediatrician’s but BE RIGHT OVER ASAP

Liv: OMG YOU MUST BE DEVASTATED. ILY HANG IN THERE!!

Shit. The last thing I want is Liv to be—

Well. Is that really the case? No, not anymore. Over the past couple of weeks, she’s gone from someone threatening to reveal the real me online to someone who’s an actual asset. Her content ideas are refreshing, and she coaxes out the best in me when we make our videos. With a start, I realize that I actually would like to have Liv by my side, especially when I make my reaction video to the news of Meredith’s death.

Ben comes back into the room, sighing. “I can’t even imagine what Clara and Luca are going through right now.”

Bile rushes up my esophagus. The last thing I need is to think about poor, sweet Luca growing up without his mother. I feel a sudden inexplicable rage surging toward Ben. Why would he bring up Luca right now? To rub my guilt in my face? I want to shriek: But I made a GoFundMe account for him! What more do you want from me? My hands close into fists and start trembling.

Get a grip , I think to myself. What Ben said has nothing to do with you. It’s a normal train of thought. Whenever a mother dies, the world focuses on her children. And in Luca’s case, he didn’t even have a father figure in his life to begin with. Then there’s Clara. How is she going to manage everything now? It’s normal to be thinking about these things. It’s not meant to be a hidden commentary about me. He doesn’t know I had something to do with Meredith’s death.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I don’t know. But hopefully the donations from the GoFundMe will help them get through this.”

“Oh my god, yeah, the GoFundMe. I checked it just now and…” Ben shakes his head. “It’s at over a million dollars.”

“What?” I’m shocked speechless. There are no words. Only yesterday it had been at under $100,000.

“Yeah. When news about Meredith being dead broke, people just started donating like crazy,” Ben says. “You should be proud of yourself, Aspen. You did this. You made sure to take care of them. Mer would be smiling down at you right now.”

A shrill, choked laugh burbles out of me, and I bite my tongue to stop myself. Mer would definitely not be smiling down at me right now.

The front door opens then, and Liv rushes in with Rain in her arms.

“Oh my god, Aspen!” she screams. “Aspen, are you okay?”

“Uh, can you keep it down?” Ben says. “Sab’s napping.”

“Oh. Yes, sorry.”

Despite everything, I catch the way they look at each other—guilt and shame and attraction entangled in their gazes—and my insides boil once again. I had forgotten, in the whirlwind of everything, that Ben and Liv had a thing as well. I’m not sure how far they went; I only saw them kissing at the open house. Have they gone all the way? After how attentive Ben has been the past week or so, I wanted to believe that our marriage was healing. But now, here is a reminder that, underneath it all, there are still festering sores, open and suppurating.

“Are you okay?” Liv says, sitting down next to me. Rain paws at my mug, and I pull it out of reach just in time.

“I—no. I mean, how can I be okay right now?” I say, and I hate how accusatory I sound. I can’t afford to lash out at anyone right now.

“Oh god, of course. I’m so sorry. I’m such a mess, too, oh my god. I’ve been crying the whole day.” Liv is frantic, her face tearstained. Why does she care so much? She barely even knew Meredith. But this is LA, isn’t it? The land of over-the-top emotions. When it comes to emoting here, you’ve got to go big and fake, or go home. I want to scream at her to shut up, but then I realize: This is it. This is exactly what I need. Liv is showing me the blueprint of how Meredith’s friends would be reacting. All I need to do is mirror Liv and dial it up a few notches, and I’m golden.

“Let’s do a video,” I say.

“What?” Ben says, and when I turn to look at him, his face is twisted into shocked revulsion.

“I need to release a video,” I say, as calmly as I can. “I can’t just stay silent, Ben. She was my best friend.”

“She was your best friend,” Ben hisses, “which is why you shouldn’t be using this to get views.”

“I’m not doing this to get views!” I cry. “How can you even think that?”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because—” I gesture wildly. “She was my best friend.” We’re going round in circles, and I know it. But how can he not understand why I need to post a video about this? Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Forget it,” Ben mutters. His upper lip curls into a sneer. “I thought maybe this time you’d put something else first. Your family, your friendship, or, hell, your mental health, even. But of course, nothing can come before our lord and savior, TikTok.” With that, he marches out of the living room, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence that’s only broken up by Rain’s little coos and gurgles.

Liv clears her throat. “Um. I’m just going to put Rain down in the playpen.” She rushes off, and I try my best to calm myself down.

Fucking Ben. He’s been so nice the past few days that I forgot how vile he could be. How contemptuous and belittling. When Liv comes back, I look at her with desperation. “He’s not—he doesn’t—he’s wrong. Right? I need to post a reaction video.”

Liv nods, frowning at me with sympathy. “Yeah, I don’t think Ben gets it. I mean, how weird would it look if you just all of a sudden went silent? You can’t not post about this.”

“Exactly!” I cry. I take a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Yeah? Okay.”

Before Liv, I would’ve written down a whole speech and rehearsed it several times before I even started recording. And I would’ve recorded multiple takes, until my voice was hoarse—until I got everything down perfectly, down to every little detail. Thanks to Liv, I’ve since learned that, sometimes, it’s best to shoot in the moment, when the emotions are raw and the words come as a surprise, even to my own ears.

Liv holds up her phone and adjusts the angle so we both look even skinnier, then she hits Record.

“Hey, everyone,” she says quietly. “You’ve all heard the news. Meredith is dead.”

I utter a choked sob, and Liv points the screen toward me. “Sorry,” I moan, and I take the memory of all that pain and anger I have, most of it aimed at Ben, and I let myself break on camera. “I can’t believe it. My best friend—my soulmate—she’s gone. Some sick asshole killed her, and I—I can’t. I can’t, I’m sorry.” I bury my face in my hands and let the bone-shaking sobs wrench through my whole body.

“Oh, Aspen.” Liv puts a hand on my back. “Sorry, guys. Be right back.” I hear her put the phone down, and I rein the sobs back. “Here,” Liv says, handing me a tissue.

I struggle to get control over myself, taking the tissue from her and dabbing at my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Wow,” Liv says, wonderment shining in her eyes. “That was powerful.”

“Really? It was short.”

“Yeah, but you conveyed so much emotion in like, three seconds. That’s amazing. People are going to love it. I’ll post it now.” She picks up her phone and uploads the video, hesitating when she comes to the caption. “What should I put as a caption?”

I blow my nose and think for a bit. “Um…maybe, ‘We just heard about Meredith, and we are devastated. Hashtag RIPMeredith hashtag WeLoveYouMeredith.’?”

“Perfect,” Liv says, typing rapidly. She tags me and posts the video. “Okay, let’s do another one? Maybe a longer one this time. I’m thinking over three minutes, since the algorithm likes that length now?”

I nod. Three minutes sounds like an awfully long time, but I have so much to share—so many overwhelming emotions that I need to let out. This is exactly what I need to do right now. This is exactly what Meredith would’ve wanted me to do. It’s the least I can do for her.

Liv and I spend the next hour making more content. We do everything: Stitches with news reels, where we share a snippet of news and then react to it. (“The body of thirty-two-year-old Meredith Lee has been uncovered in a lake a hundred miles outside of Los Angeles.” Cut to me and Liv, in tears. Me: “A lake. I can’t believe it. Someone took my best friend out into the middle of nowhere and left her there.” Liv: “It’s sick. It’s disgusting. Who would do such a thing?”). We share more photos and videos of Meredith in which I wax on about what an amazing mom and friend Meredith was, and how I vow to help look after little Luca for the rest of my life. (Me: “I swear to Meredith—I know she’s up there listening, I love you so much, Mer—I swear to you, I will take care of Luca. Don’t you worry. He will be loved.” Liv: “Meredith would be smiling down at you right now.”) We post about women’s rights, and how important it is to raise little boys into good men. (Me: “She was killed by some sick fuck who thought he was entitled to her life, just because she was a woman. You are going to be caught, you asshole. You’re going to be behind bars for the rest of your fucking life. Justice for Meredith!” Liv: “Justice for Meredith! That’s right.”)

At one point, Ben comes out of the home office and strides toward the front door. He pauses long enough to say, “I’m going out for lunch. I’ll pick up the twins from school.” He only glances at us for a split second, just enough for me to catch the sneer still snug on his face. My cheeks grow warm. I have no doubt that he’s been listening to Liv and me this whole time, probably judging every word we say. Well, he can fuck right off. Easy to take the high road when you know you’ve got someone on the ground to count on.

But I don’t dwell on Ben’s contempt. There is no room in my attention span for Ben right now, because everything is blowing up. We are reaching numbers previously unheard of. The little ten-second video of me breaking down, posted a mere hour ago, has already reached nine million views. My follower counts are shooting up in real time. Seven and a half million followers on TikTok. #JusticeForMeredith is already trending everywhere. My phone is still on Silent mode, and I get missed call after missed call. A few of them are from Clara. She’ll need to wait; I’m busy getting her even more donations for her GoFundMe account.

“Oh my god, we are growing so fast,” Liv says, echoing my thoughts. “This is amazing. I’m so glad that we’re able to help Meredith.”

The absurdity of her statement does not escape me. Surely, Meredith is beyond help now. But I know what Liv meant, and I can’t be mad at her because I’m so grateful that she’s here. Every detail that is revealed about Meredith sickens me, and without Liv here, I would’ve lost it for sure. But because of her presence, I’m forced to keep myself together, and I’m thankful for it. Sabine stirs then and starts to cry.

“Break time, I guess,” I say. Good timing, as I feel so empty after all that crying and talking in front of the camera.

“I’ll order us lunch,” Liv says. “Kale salad okay?”

“Yeah.”

“With or without avocado?”

“With.” I need the extra calories to keep shooting videos. I’m just picking Sabine up from her crib, inhaling the sweet warm scent of her, when I hear Liv curse.

“Uh, Aspen?”

Something in Liv’s voice makes my ears prick up. “Yeah?”

“I think you need to come out and see this.”

Sabine smiles at me, cherubic and delightful and so utterly distracting. “What is it?”

“It’s Tanya. And she’s saying some really bad stuff. About you.”

Tanya. It takes a second for me to place the name. When I do, my insides turn to ice. Tanya Dylan. The influencer who had posted videos with Meredith months ago, declaring herself as Meredith’s BFF. The mega-influencer who, for whatever reason, seems to hate my guts.