One By One by Freida McFadden(12)

“Everything on the menu looks so good,” Jack says. His sneaker rubs against mine as he flashes me a quick meaningful look. Are we really going to risk playing footsie under the table? I guess we are.

As she examines the menu, Lindsay plays with a strand of her blond hair that came loose from her bun. Lindsay has the best hair of anyone I know. She always has. It’s ash blond, perfectly highlighted, and silky soft. After college, she tried her hand at advertising and finance, but she ultimately decided to become a hairdresser. She’s great at it.

“I love the burgers at these little diners.” Lindsay inhales deeply. “You can smell them cooking.”

“I know!” I say. “They’re always so juicy and fresh.”

Warner frowns. “You’re not going to get a burger, are you, Lindsay? Those things have like a thousand calories.”

For the first time since I met Lindsay’s Adonis of a boyfriend, I feel a trace of misgivings. Is he really trying to control what she eats? I attempt to catch Lindsay’s eye, but she’s looking down at the menu.

“Lindsay and I are training to run a marathon next month,” Warner explains. “We need to keep in good shape.”

“A marathon?” My mouth falls open. “Lindsay, you’re going to run a marathon?”

She smiles, but it looks forced. “Oh, yes! We’re so excited!”

Warner throws his arm around her narrow shoulders. “Lindsay is doing great with her training. She’s a powerhouse!”

This isn’t like my best friend at all. Lindsay does Pilates, not marathons. She hates working up a sweat. And anyway, she doesn’t need to watch what she eats. She’s in great shape.

I get the greasy burger with french fries, and the best I can say is that there’s no negative commentary from Noah. He gets a burger too: “Rare. Bloody. Maybe still mooing.” Warner orders a turkey sandwich—no mayo. (At least he isn’t a hypocrite.) And Lindsay gets a side salad—no dressing.

Right after we place our orders, Michelle looks down at her watch. Every time I’ve seen her, she always seems to be in a hurry. But I swear she’s looked at her watch three times since we walked in here.

“Are things busy at work, Michelle?” I ask politely.

She smiles tightly. “Always. But yeah, it’s been very busy lately.” She laughs. “People really hate their spouses.”

“What do you do, Michelle?” Warner asks.

She toys with the napkin in front of her. “I’m a divorce attorney.”

“Oh?” Warner raises an eyebrow. “You must see some brutal stuff.”

A smile touches her lips. “Are you divorced?”

It’s sort of a personal question for somebody she just met an hour ago, but Michelle is used to being blunt. Anyway, Warner doesn’t seem bothered. “No,” he says. “When I get married, it will be forever.”

And Lindsay beams. God, she’s gah-gah for this guy.

“Nice sentiment—for your sake, I hope you’re right.” She shakes her head. “Unfortunately, most people aren’t so lucky.”

I avoid looking at Noah. I don’t want to admit that Michelle’s statement has touched a nerve.

“I have this one client…” She pauses, uncertain if she should go on. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Tell us!” Lindsay demands. She puts her hand on Warner’s golden-haired forearm. “Michelle tells the best stories.”

Michelle smiles at another of Lindsay’s well-placed compliments, although she knows it’s true. “This one is a doozy. My client was married to this rich banker. He cheated on her like crazy, and we were going to take him to the cleaners. Like, the guy was going to be living in his car after this.”

Jack and I exchange quick glances. There’s no doubt in his mind that if he ever decided to leave Michelle, he’d be lucky if he even got to keep his car. He’d be living in a cardboard box. And not a nice cardboard box either.

“Anyway,” Michelle says, “the guy was desperate. So…”

I suck in a breath. “So...?”

“He hired a hitman to knock her off.”

We’re all wearing identical expressions of shock. Nothing like that ever happens at school where I work. It’s an exciting day when somebody gets pinched really hard.

“Unfortunately,” Michelle says, “a neighbor was able to get the license plate on the hitman’s car. The police caught up with him and in exchange for immunity, he turned the husband in. Now instead of living in his car, the husband is going to be living in a jail cell for the rest of his life.”

Jack has turned two shades paler. The truth is, he’s wanted to leave Michelle for years. He realized a long time ago they weren’t right for each other. And he had always been hoping she would change her mind about not wanting any kids, but she’s made it clear that’s not going to happen.

But what can he do? Best case scenario, Michelle would destroy him.

And what if she finds out the two of us are having an affair? What will she do then?

“What sort of work do you do, Warner?” Michelle asks.

“Plastic surgeon,” he says.

Michelle snaps her fingers. “That’s what my client’s husband did. He was a plastic surgeon too.”