Follow Me(80)

“Are you Audrey’s best friend, though?”

I sucked in my breath. Max had hit me right where it hurt, the tender spot I didn’t think anyone else knew about. Ever since she’d taken my hand on Bid Day, Audrey had been my best friend, my only friend. I’d always known our friendship didn’t mean as much to Audrey as it did to me, and I had accepted that. Just getting to have a piece of Audrey was enough for me. And then she had moved to DC, and I had glimpsed behind the glimmering curtain, seen what it was to have Audrey’s sparkling attention focused solely on me. But just when I was starting to fully appreciate it, Max had swooped in and snatched her away from me.

“If you were, she would have accepted your repeated offers to move in,” he added.

My stomach lurched as I imagined Audrey telling Max I had asked her to live with me, and then the two of them laughing about it together. Cat’s so pathetic, she’s always trying to force a friendship, Audrey might have said. Careful, Max might have cautioned, you know what happened to the last girl who wouldn’t be her friend.

“Maybe it was you,” Max continued. “Maybe you ransacked Audrey’s apartment to scare her into moving in with you.”

“By that logic, you’re the one who trashed her apartment,” I countered. “After all, she moved in with you. How do I know that you’re not the one stalking her?”

“I would never do anything to harm Audrey,” he said, sounding offended. “Never.”

“Neither—”

“Besides,” he interrupted. “I’m not the one with a history of violent jealousy.”

I had been expecting something like this, but it felt like a blow to the stomach. “That was an accident.”

“Sure it was, Cathy.” He cocked his head slightly. “What do you think Bill Hannover would say about it?”

My mouth went metallic. “Are you threatening me?”

“What would make you think that?” he asked, sneering slightly.

Time stood still as he held my eyes, daring me to call his bluff. I swallowed hard. “Max, if I give you these keys—”

“Everything will be fine.”

“It better be,” I murmured. I felt sick as I handed him my key ring, but what else could I do? If Max told Bill about Emily Snow, my future at the firm would be over. I had to protect myself.





CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE





AUDREY


I briefly fantasized about tagging along to New York with Cat, going back to the city where I’d always felt safe and maybe never returning, but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t go there with the way things were—me practically homeless, estranged from my boyfriend, and in possession of nerves so shattered that I jumped every time the wind blew—without feeling like a colossal failure.

Instead, I helped Cat pack. As I handed her a pair of pantyhose, covering up my anxiety about her leaving with a joke about Cat being the only woman other than the Queen of England who still wore hose, she suddenly seized my hand.

“Why don’t you call Nick?” she suggested, her expression serious.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” I asked, taken aback. “You hate Nick.”

“I’d feel better if you weren’t in this apartment alone,” she’d said, forehead creased with worry. “Even if that means you’re staying with that awful ex-boyfriend of yours.”

“You’re sweet to worry,” I said, patting her hand. “But I don’t trust any men right now, Nick included. They all look like goddamn stalkers. I’ll be fine here. Truly. Your apartment is so much more secure than mine.”

Cat opened her mouth as though she was about to say something, then closed it and nodded. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” I promised. “Everything will be fine.”

It was something I believed—or at least wanted to believe. Still, I lay awake that entire first night alone, every innocuous creak or thump sending an electric current of terror through my body. I checked the lock on the front door at least seven times and did a sweep of all the windows twice. Everything was in order, but sleep still eluded me. I rolled my bottle of Ambien between my palms, tempted to take a pill but terrified to do so. I hadn’t had one since hearing the strange voice on the Luna Listen app, hadn’t been willing to numb myself to the world when there were creeps in it who wanted to watch me sleep. Instead, I stared at the smooth ceiling of the guest room until the first rays of morning light stretched across it, at which point I finally drifted off.

My alarm sounded ninety minutes later, and I raised my head long enough to call in sick before going back to bed for the rest of the morning. Six hours later, I awoke energized and more than a little embarrassed at how frightened I’d been. Cat’s apartment was plainly harmless in the daylight, and I considered whether I should just go full vampire while Cat was away. I made up for my unproductive morning by responding to emails and planning some future Instagram content, and then I took a Reformer class and picked up a salad from Sweetgreen on my way home.

Despite the postexercise endorphins in my system, I felt a twinge of loneliness as I climbed the steps to Cat’s building. I really hated being alone. I’d been that way ever since I was a baby—my mother loves to say I only learned to crawl so I could follow my sister, Maggie, around. And after Maggie was promoted to her own bedroom, I used to sneak in and sleep on the floor by her bed, curled up on her pink shag rug alongside the cat. I no longer slept on the floor like someone’s pet, but I’d never gotten over my dislike for being alone.