It took me almost thirty minutes to pull up in front of Whitney’s parents’ house, but it was completely dark.
Headlights blinded me as another car flew down the street and whipped into the driveway. Whitney’s aunt, the one who my mother fired, jumped out of a car and ran to the door, soaking wet. She pounded on it like a crazy woman.
Fuck. In the pit of my stomach, I knew something wasn’t right.
I climbed out of my car, and Jackie turned when I slammed my door.
“Get the hell out of here, kid.”
“No, I need to see Whitney. I need to make sure she’s all right.”
“She’s never going to be all right again.” Jackie’s voice was ragged. “You shouldn’t be here.” She turned and pounded on the door again as her shoulders shook.
Something unsettling twisted in the pit of my stomach.
My phone vibrated, and I looked down.Mother.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Jackie glanced over her shoulder and looked down at my phone. “You should answer that.”
48
Whitney
Present day
We pass the resort,and then the estate. Another mile beyond it, Lincoln approaches a third gate that I’ve never seen before. It’s not as ornate as the black wrought iron and gold accents of the resort and the estate. It’s more understated, but every bit as forbidding.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is Lincoln’s house, and my decision to come here already feels like the wrong one.
“I should’ve had you take me home,” I whisper as the gates swing open.
“I want you here,” he replies as he drives through them. “But if you want me to take you back to your aunt’s, I will.”
As he navigates the Range Rover up the long driveway, we disappear into dense forest dotted with lights. A brighter glow comes from farther beyond, and when we round the last bend, I finally see the house.
It’s not a gargantuan mansion or an over-the-top monstrosity.
No, of course not. Because this is Lincoln we’re talking about. Instead, it’s just fuckingperfect.
For some reason, that puts me over the edge.
“Okay, then take me home.”
Lincoln turns to face me. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this. Not here. Not anywhere so fucking perfect. You don’t get it!”
“Get what, Whitney?”
I spin to face him. “You don’t get what it’s like to never be able to do anything right! For everything you try to fix to go horribly wrong instead. I came home because Cricket begged me and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. But instead of making her wedding dreams come true, I’ve made everything worse. I’m a fuckup. A joke. The goddamned black widow who killed someone by trying to divorce him!”
Tears stream down my face, and I don’t care if I sound completely and utterly hysterical.
“Right now, I can’t be rational. I can’t be reasonable. And I can’t keep having your perfect fucking life shoved in my face to show me just how screwed up mine is!”
Instead of backing out of the driveway, Lincoln kills the engine, unbuckles his seat belt, and opens his door.