“I know, babe. I know. I better call Kevin, tell him we’re going to be late.”
Aubrey got on the phone to tell the bridegroom his best man would be tardy for the ogling. Josh tried to keep his calm. This was not how he’d planned the weekend to go. Fun and romance and a little kink—they hadn’t been able to stay in a hotel for a long time, and they were both looking forward to the illicit anonymity of the room. Aubrey was always looser at hotels. He wanted to touch her again, to hold her. To feel her heart beating next to his, like it had for so many years. If he fucked up tonight, he’d never be able to hold her again, and the thought made him want to cry.
Josh wiped the cold sweat that broke out on his forehead with his jacket sleeve. The idea of losing Aubrey made him physically ill. She was the most important part of his life. The only piece that actually mattered. And now, he wasn’t going to have a choice. He was going to lose her one way or the other. He just didn’t think it was going to be today.
A motorcycle cop in a helmet and shades swung by and put on his lights so people could be forewarned about the accident. He wasn’t thrilled that the man Josh had hit had already left the scene, and gave Josh a ticket for failing to yield, or some other such nonsense. He didn’t bother to look at it, just took the paper, folded it, and shoved it in his front pocket. He gave the cop the finger behind his back and went to sit on the guardrail with Aubrey, who was now gaily watching the proceedings like a queen awaiting coronation.
“You’re going to mess up your dress, and you are in entirely too good a mood.”
“I’m sitting on your jacket, so don’t worry yourself. We’re alive, and I’m glad for it. I should be suffering survivor’s guilt, I guess. The poor car.”
Josh glanced at the crumpled mess that was his pride and joy. “Poor car? Poor us. I don’t know where we’re going to get the money to buy another. The insurance company will never give us what it’s worth.”
“We’ll figure it out. We always do, right?”
She took his hand and squeezed.
He stitched up her lip. The tow truck arrived in practically record time, just under an hour. After bidding their lonely, broken car adieu, they took a cab to the hotel and arrived there only an hour late. Aubrey insisted that Josh join the party as quickly as possible since he was, after all, the best man. She promised she’d take care of getting them checked in and calling the insurance company.
Thankful as always for the woman Aubrey was—capable, strong, resilient—he kissed her an extra long time, earning a look from a bellman, and scurried off toward the party.
And the moment her back was turned, he walked out the hotel’s front door.
CHAPTER 60
Aubrey
Today
The run didn’t help her confusion, but it helped her body. She felt more settled. More in control. She’d gone for two hours, two glorious, terrible hours. Her life—seven and seventeen and five, and now seven again, seven days of starting over, of finding peace—shattered into a million pieces.
The sun was gone, the night birds calling, mocking as she went up the steps. Another day over. She didn’t know how she was going to find the strength to pick up the pieces and start over yet again tomorrow.
She fed Winston, worked up her courage, and called Meghan, who didn’t answer. She left a cheery message so she wouldn’t know anything was wrong and was just finishing a glass of juice when she heard knocking at the door.
Not just knocking, but the heavy slams that came from a fist turned sideways instead of politely rapping knuckles.
A cop.
Shit. Look normal.
She reacted irrationally, as she was wont to do when the police came calling. Who could blame her, really? She’d been on the losing end of their relationship for most of her life.
The banging continued.
God damn you, Arlo. You promised.
And . . . Thank you for warning me, Chase.
She opened it to the faces of two men she didn’t recognize, both holding badges. The taller of the two said, “Aubrey Hamilton?”
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Tartt.” He nodded to the smaller man, gray-haired and grim-looking. “This is Special Agent Hesley. We’re with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. Ma’am, may we come in? It’s concerning your husband, Josh Hamilton.”
“What about him?”
If they noticed the sharpness in her tone, neither of them reacted.
“I think this is better suited for a sit-down, ma’am.”
Jesus. What was happening?
She heard Tyler’s voice in her head: Play it, Aubrey. Play it hard.
She sagged against the door a little. “Oh, my God. Did you find his body?” That would make sense. That was the right thing to ask. She didn’t have to fake the tremulous voice; her whole body was shaking like a leaf.