Page 71 of Happily Ever After

Inside, the lab smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee that had been sitting too long on a warmer. The waiting room was half-full, people scrolling on their phones or flipping through outdated magazines.

Cece checked in at the desk, then took a seat beside Joe. She bounced her foot a few times, then forced it still.

“You okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“I will be,” she said. “I just want this part over.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A technician called Cece’s name, and she stood, leaving her purse on the seat for Joe to watch before following the woman down the hall.

The room was small and bright, all white surfaces and stainless steel. A framed print of a hilly landscape was the only spot of color. Cece sat in the chair and rolled up her sleeve, turning her arm slightly, then looking away. She wasn’t in the mood to watch.

The technician worked efficiently, tourniquet snapping into place, alcohol swab cool against her skin.

“Small pinch,” the woman said.

Cece barely felt it. She focused instead on the steady rhythm of her breathing, on the sound of the clock over the door ticking, on anything that wasn’t the quiet mantra humming in the back of her mind: Please let everything be fine.

“All done,” the technician said a moment later, pressing a cotton ball and a Band-Aid over the spot on Cece’s arm.

“Thank you,” Cece replied, sincere. That had been fast and easy.

Back in the waiting room, Joe stood as soon as he saw her. “How’d it go?”

“Quick,” Cece said. “Which I appreciate.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Outside, the sun had climbed higher, the air already warmer. Joe opened the car door for her again, then slid behind the wheel.

“Ready for breakfast?” he asked.

Cece managed a smile. “And about a gallon of coffee.”

“Then we’d better go to a place with free refills.”

They drove a few blocks to a mom-and-pop place they’d been to before, nothing fancy but the food and service were reliable. Joe parked, and they found a booth by the window.

Menus arrived, followed by water and coffee. Joe ordered an omelet and then a side of waffles for the table without asking, and Cece didn’t object. She got eggs and bacon with rye toast.

While they waited for the food to come, Cece reached for her phone, intending to check the Queen Bees thread.

Instead, she saw an email from Maude. She gripped the phone more firmly and let out a little noise of curiosity.

Joe noticed immediately. “What is it?”

“Maude,” Cece said, opening the message and reading. “She found more info on Darcy.”

The email was long and came with an attachment, which she opened. As Cece scrolled, she felt her stomach drop.

This wasn’t about bylaws anymore.

This was about Darcy’s history of behavior. And, to use Maude’s word, the patterns she’d created.

Cece read silently, her coffee forgotten as Maude laid it all out. How Darcy seemed to magically arrive after a group was well-established. How she raised concerns about something the group was doing or not doing. How she destroyed any forward momentum.

And how so often, too often, the group had no choice but to dissolve.

“This isn’t random,” Cece murmured. She quickly explained to Joe what Maude had found.