Page 106 of The Wright Man

"Yeah, well, we remember," Bella snapped. "Does he think you forgot how he treated you last time? Does he think we forgot?"

"Is he fucking crazy?" Tina added, fully affronted.

I shook my head slowly. "He's just... I don't know. Something's off."

Tina narrowed her eyes. "He was more drunk than usual tonight. That new?"

I paused. "Kind of. I mean, he drinks, but tonight was sloppy."

Bella frowned. "That makes sense. I overheard Boyd say they haven't had a guys' night in over a year."

My body stilled.

"What?"

"Yeah. Right before they left. I think he forgot we were still here. He told Theo, 'Damn, we ain't done this in a minute.' Like... a long minute."

That sat heavy in my chest. Like a weight I didn't know had been building.

Because Gavin had claimed to be going to "guys' night" at least twice a month for the past year.

So if Boyd was telling the truth...

Then where the fuck had he been going?

I didn't say anything. Not yet. My mind spun quietly while my face stayed calm.

Tina cracked a joke—something outlandish about Gavin dying and me not having to pay for the funeral because she'd just dump his body in the Potomac.

I laughed.

But inside, something shifted.

I hadn't decided yet. But I was getting there.

And if he kept playing in my face?

He'd be out of chances by fall.

Chapter Seventeen

Angelica

My head was pounding, my mouth was dry, and the back of my throat tasted like sangria and petty revenge. But for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long, I woke up feeling good.

Not because I wasn't hurting—oh, I was definitely hurting. I could taste the dehydration in the back of my throat and feel it humming in my temples like the world's worst mariachi band. But beneath all that was peace. A smug, satisfied peace, wrapped in a warm blanket of finally. Finally, I'd reminded Gavin who the hell he married. Finally, I'd stopped shrinking. Finally, I'd said the things I always bit back. And I hadn't done it alone.

I sat up slowly on the couch, stretching with a groan, and took in the living room carnage.

Bella was draped across the loveseat like a glamorously dead Victorian woman, drool glistening on the armrest. Tina had claimed Gavin's recliner sometime after midnight, neck bent at a horror-movie angle, mouth wide open like she'd passed out mid-roast. She looked peaceful. Regal. Petty.

I loved them.

I stumbled toward the kitchen, feet dragging across the hardwood, trying not to trip over the discarded blankets, takeout containers, and open sheet mask packets scattered like the aftermath of a slumber party apocalypse. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and chugged half of it like I'd just been rescued from a desert. Then I reached for my phone, which was laying on the counter like it had barely survived the night. Still at 7%. Uncharged. I hadn't even plugged it in.

I unlocked it.

There were seven new messages from Maleek.