Page 96 of Wicked Ruin

She heads back to the garden.

It smells like tea and scones, and my stomach growls with hunger. Declan would scold me if he knew how little I’d eaten today, but I’m nauseous as fuck. When I go to the kitchen, my laptop pressed to my chest, it’s alive with the McCarthy women: Bianca at the table, laying out clotted cream, my sister sitting beside her, Kyla pouring out the tea, and Bronwyn taking the second batch of scones out of the oven.

“Bridget!” Bronwyn says brightly. “I was about to take out an extra mug.”

My heart lifts in spite of itself. “Hi, girls.” I smile.

“New recipe I found online,” Bronwyn says. “You’re my first test subjects.”

“I will happily be your test subject, and I will happily eat this entire pot of clotted cream,” Erin says, pulling it toward her. She plates two of the largest scones, cuts them in half, and smothers them both lavishly with clotted cream and jam. My mouth waters.

“Oh god above, that looks delicious.”

We all help ourselves.

Bronwyn squints at something on her phone screen. “Strange that Valentina posted a hundred times a day before she was engaged to Declan, and now nothing. Not a single post.”

“It is a bit strange,” I say with a nod.

“And it’s just a little… I don’t know how to say it. Well.” She leans in and whispers, “She seemed so much nicer online than she is in person, didn’t she? She was funny and witty and even a little nerdy, but the real Valentina’s… well. Not.”

Kyla rolls her eyes. “It’s called a curated online presence, Bronwyn. She probably had someone posting as her or something.”

“Who does that?”

Erin looks on with a frown. She hates socials. It doesn’t help that she was bullied online.

“Only everyone? Someone who wants the notoriety and fame,” Kyla says with an eye roll. “Stick to the baking, will you?” Kyla shakes her head. “No meddling, Bronwyn.”

Bronwyn gives Kyla an affectionate little shove. She takes a sip of her tea, but I notice she doesn’t put her phone away.

After a while, we catch up. At first, I was afraid that if someone even looked at me, they would immediately know I was pregnant. It was a silly fear, but a very real one. It’s good to sit here, catch up, and chat with the girls.

“You’re feeling better?” Bronwyn says, studying my face. She knows what the danger is as well as I do, though neither of us says it out loud.

“I’m fine now. Labs are solid, and the doctor’s not concerned.” Okay, so that’s a lie. I go on. “Must’ve been a bit of a bug,” I say, putting more jam on my scone. Why did I never realize how delicious jam tasted?

Erin gives me a curious look. “Since when do you like jam?”

“A girl can change her mind, can’t she?” I say, but I look away from her because my cheeks feel a little bright, a little flushed, and I don’t quite want to give myself away. That’s the worst of it—I’m so worried that one comment, one look, and everyone will know the truth.

“Bronwyn, look at the time,” Kyla says. “We need to go. We’re going to be late.”

They have an appointment somewhere. Bronwyn gives me a quick hug on the way out. “I’ve missed you, lass. Don’t be a stranger around these parts, will you?”

Would they still say that if they knew the truth? Would anybody?

Then Erin and I are alone. Caitlin’s still in the garden, and the large, rambling McCarthy family home is nearly vacant.

Erin turns to me, taps her papers together neatly, and in that big-sister tone I know all too well, gives me a pointed stare. “Now that we’re actually alone, it’s time you told me the truth about what’s really going on with you. I’m not a fool, Bridget. I see the signs.”

Of… what? What does she know?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You went to the doctor. Cavin was in touch with Rosenberg himself. You don’t come to the family gatherings on the weekends. You don’t answer my texts.” She leans across the table. “You’re hiding something from me, and I don’t like it. Are you really alright?”

Hiding something from her? I’m hiding everything from her.