Claire sucked in a breath. “What did he do?”
“Who the hell knows with him?” Iris said.
“Should we leave?” Claire asked. “This feels intrusive. Like we’re spying on her.”
Iris shook her head and opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Spencer yelled again, all the while collecting his clothes.
“I did that foryou. For us. You need to get out of this town and everyone in it.”
“That’s not—”
“Your mother? Total nightmare. You’re like a rag doll around her. And your friends are fucking miscreants.”
Iris’s posture snapped straight. “Damn right we are, you shit sock.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my friends,” Astrid said.
“I did you a favor, buying that house in Seattle,” Spencer went on. “You’re content to be nothing in Bright Falls, Astrid. I’m just trying to get you to see that.”
“Holy shit,” Iris said.
“He... bought a house in Seattle?” Claire asked. Her stomach splashed to her feet, Spencer’s proclamations rolling through her like a bulldozer. “I thought they weren’t leaving for another year.”
“By the looks of it, I think Astrid thought the same thing,” Iris said.
Astrid didn’t say anything. She just picked up a pin-striped suit jacket and launched it onto the grass.
“That’s Armani!” Spencer shrieked, jogging down the steps and collecting the garment.
“That doesn’t belong in my house anymore,” Astrid said, pointing at him. “And neither do you. Enjoy your new house in Seattle.”
“What are you going to do, cancel our whole wedding? Our whole life?” Spencer said, spreading his arms. “We’re getting married in three days. You wouldn’t dare.”
Astrid’s face sobered, and her chin started to wobble. Claire opened the car door, ready to intervene, but Astrid didn’t give her a chance. She simply turned on her heel and went inside, slamming her front door behind her.
Spencer stared after her for a second, then snatched up the last of his clothes and thundered toward his shiny Mercedes, which was parked on the curb. He glanced at Claire and Iris in the car, flickedthem off over a pile of dress shirts like the classy guy he was, then got in his sedan and drove away.
The two women sat in silence for a second before Iris finally spoke.
“I think... I think they just broke up?” she said.
Claire blew out a breath. “I think they did.”
“That’s what we wanted.”
Claire nodded, but she felt terrible. Not guilty—Spencer dug his own grave, no doubt about it—but it was hard seeing a friend hurting. Plus...
“Isabel’s going to kill her,” she said.
“Yeah,” Iris said with a sigh. “I think she just might.”
“No reason for her to die alone, then,” Claire said.
Iris squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “One for all, bitches.”
They got out of the car and started up the sidewalk, Claire’s heart pounding the entire time. Iris rang the bell but then pushed the front door open and stepped inside. Astrid’s house, as always, was a vision of modern design and style. Cool gray walls, ecru sofas filled with throw pillows in various shades of blue, distressed wooden console tables, white quartz countertops, and stainless steel appliances. The living area, kitchen, and dining room were one huge space, and windows lined the entire back wall, revealing a small patio and a view of the river in the distance.
“Astrid?” Claire called. “Honey?”
