The Perfect Ruin
I parked in the driveaway, spotting Corey’s car there too. My heart did somersaults at the sight of it. My future husband was around, and that made me one happy girl.
I picked up my purse from the passenger seat, the five-thousand-dollar Prada bag Lola had handed down to me because she never used it, slinging the strap over my shoulder and marching to the front door.
Georgia answered, and I scowled at her. It was her fault that things blew up with Lola in the first place. All her suspiciousness and nosiness and watching me at night. If she hadn’t opened her big mouth, Lola and I would still be fine and I still would be living the best of both worlds, sleeping with Corey and spoiled with riches by Lola.
I started to walk in, but before I went too far, I turned back to Georgia just as she closed the door. “You’re the one who told my therapist Lola’s name, aren’t you?”
Georgia placed her hands behind her back. “I did, but only because it seemed like it was what Lola wanted at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What are you not sure about?”
“You’re trying to ruin Mrs. Maxwell’s life. I suppose feeding that information to Dr. Harold wasn’t wise.”
“How do you even know about me? About Dr. Harold?”
“I knew about the accident the day after it happened.”
“The accident?” I snapped. “What makes you think it was an accident?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Because Mrs. Maxwell didn’t intentionally try to kill your parents, Miss Hill. She was under distress. It was a mistake.”
Miss Hill. I hated that she was now using that name, like she couldn’t wait to use it—like she’d known it since the day she met me. “A mistake that cost my parents their lives,” I grumbled.
Georgia sighed. “Perhaps you should take this up with her. Mrs. Maxwell is waiting for you by the pool. Would you like me to take your purse? Get you something to drink?”
I looked her over in her uniform and then shook my head. “Whatever.” I tossed my purse at her and she caught it with a small grunt. Then I went through the house and into the kitchen to get to the pool. Georgia knew nothing about my past. She had no idea what I’d been through, so she could shut the fuck up. Why she defended Lola so much, I had no clue. Lola treated her like shit.
As mentioned, Lola was standing in front of the pool. Her arms were crossed, her feet wide apart, and her hip cocked. She was wearing a white gown with a gold belt at the waist. There was a cocktail glass in her hand with pink liquid, half empty.
I took a step out and, to my surprise, Corey was also standing out by the pool. I hadn’t noticed him from where I was standing by the door. A pillar was in the way, blocking my view of him.
I remained still as Lola turned and faced him. It seemed they were in the middle of a heated conversation.
“I just don’t understand why now,” said Lola. “Of all the times, and all the years, you want a divorce now? There is someone else, isn’t there? Someone you’ve fallen for?”
Corey turned to face Lola, preparing his lips to speak, but when he did, he caught me standing behind her and clamped his mouth shut.
Lola spun around and caught me behind her, and her frown deepened. “What the hell are you doing here?” Lola snapped, clutching her glass tighter.
“What do you mean? You sent me a text asking me to meet you for dinner at seven.”
Lola’s expression morphed to one of confusion. “I never sent you any sort of text,” she spat back. “Why would I want to meet you for dinner? Why are you still lying?”
“You said you wanted to mend things, Lola. I have the message on my phone.”
What a cunt. Because Corey was here, she wanted to act like she didn’t want me around? I could see I was getting nowhere with her.
Lola wobbled a bit on her heels and then she sighed, walking to an empty chair under the umbrella. “I don’t have time for this shit.” She groaned, lowering her head and rubbing her forehead with the pads of her fingers.
“How much have you had to drink?” Corey demanded, moving toward her. He had his signature drink in hand, but polished it off. Nothing remained but ice and lemon peel.
“Why do you care?” Lola barked at him, picking up her head. “You don’t want to be my husband anymore, right? I’ll drink however much I fucking want!”
I remained perfectly still.
“You’re angry and you’re drunk, just like your father. You knew this divorce was coming one day, Lola. We haven’t been happy since that damn wreck.”