“That’s cool. What’s, like, your speciality? I know shit about woodcrafting or carpentry.”
“I mostly make furniture and some custom pieces for wealthy people who like to tell their friends how much they spent on a custom piece of furniture,” Shaw says truthfully. He’s made a name for himself through high-priced word of mouth. It’s given him the financial freedom and independence he wanted his whole life.
Brooklyn laughs into the back of her hand before she washes down her food with another sip of wine. “Rich people do like to brag about their custom shit. That’s awesome. You on the Gram? I’d love to see your work.”
“Yeah,” Shaw nods. “I’ll show you.”
“But we’re not here to talk about furniture are we? Or are we?”
“I mean, I’d rather talk about our recently murdered partners and how they were cheating on us, but furniture is cool too.” Shaw takes out his phone, crosses the room and hands it to Brooklyn. She looks at his screen, cocking her head to the side.
“Salted Sea Customs. Oh, this is beautiful.” She hands back the phone.
“Thanks,” Shaw says before he heads back to the couch.
“Okay, so yeah. Josh Delinksy. Corrine Johnson. The ultimate betrayal, a brutal double-murder and suicide, and absolutely no way to deal with it.” Brooklyn sighs and sits back. I ignore the way her legs part, showing off the gentle impression of her labia against her underwear.
“How did you and Josh meet?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s pretty boring. We met at a birthday party, found out we had some college friends in common. Dated, got engaged. Then somewhere in there, there was another woman and four shots at close range. And here we are! I’m not surprised he cheated on me, now that I look back on it. Actually...” Her gaze cuts to me, a sudden look of determination touching her features. “That’s the pain talking. I’m the shit and I have no idea why he cheated on me.”
“I know why Corrine cheated,” Shaw says suddenly, almost to himself.
“You do?” I say, trying to keep my voice measured. Why didn’t he tell me this sooner?
“The last time I saw her, before she went on her supposed girls trips, she made a joke. Something about how she needed a break to recharge. A break from us.” He considers his wine glass for a moment before he looks over at Brooklyn. “We met her at a rope bondage exhibition. She was…” Shaw doesn’t finish, but I know what he wants to say. That she was wild. Insatiable. That she wanted everything she could handle and more. She wanted us and just us. Or so we thought.
“I wanted to ask you guys about her,” Brooklyn says. “I thought knowing more about her, it would help, but I’m not sure it will. Knowing anything about her won’t turn back time.”
“What will help?” I ask her.
“I guess, knowing that you guys are—not hurt, I don’t want you to be hurting—but I want to know that you’re as pissed as I am.”
“I’m pissed,” Shaw admits with a shrug.
“There we go. Now we’re talking. Let it out!”
Shaw smirks as he goes on. We’ve been talking, but not as much as we usually do. I hate to think there are things he can’t tell me, but sometimes you need a neutral third party to open certain doors.
“When we got together, Vaughn went out of his way to make sure that all three of us were not only comfortable, but happy. Vaughn went out of his way to listen. If she wanted out she could have said so.”
“My friend’s therapist says cheating isn’t about wanting out,” Brooklyn says. “It’s about wanting it all.”
“Huh,” I grunt in agreement. “That might be the only thing about this that makes sense.”
“Still makes me feel like shit.” Brooklyn wipes her hands on her napkin, then reaches for her phone. “You wanna see my wedding dress?” She crosses the room this time and shows Shaw the photo on her screen before she comes over to me. I try not to notice the way she walks or how lush her thighs look barely covered by her silk nightshirt. I can’t ignore the way her nipples are brushing through the smooth fabric.
I look toward her phone as she nearly steps between my legs. I take the device and zoom in on the picture of her standing in the bridal shop mirror. I know plenty about custom men’s clothing, but I don’t know a damn thing about wedding dresses. That doesn’t change the fact that Brooklyn Lewis looks stunning in white.
“I paid out the ass to get the alterations just perfect. It’s impossible to get any kind of a refund on a custom wedding dress.”
“When was the ceremony supposed to be?” I ask.
“In two months. I actually had someone ask me if it was cancelled. Tough to get married when your groom is dead.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I hand back her phone.
She gives me a tight smile. “It is what it is.” She crosses the room and sits back down in front of her food. The bold confidence she’s been showing off since I met her in the cemetery seems to suddenly fade.
