Page 111 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“I threw this away the other day. I’m certain of it.”

Every muscle in my body goes tight.

She exhales and shoves back her hair. “And that wineglass…” A shake of her head. “Maybe Faye found it and brought it back.”

She turns, starts walking toward Faye and Gray’s house.

I catch her arm. “Lainey, wait just a second.”

Her eyes are edging into panic. “I-I—” A shaky exhale. “We had that storm,” she says. “I’m pretty sure it blew out the first time after we had all that wind. Maybe I didn’t shove it down far enough when I threw it away the second time.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “That’s probably all there is to it.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Only she doesn’t look convinced.

And her next words tell me exactly that.

“But what if it wasn’t? What if… No. There has to be a logical explanation for this. There has to be. Because otherwise…” Her lungs hitch. “It’s just…I keep getting these weird feelings. Like there are eyes on me sometimes. What if the glass and the paper—” Her eyes go wide, panicked. “Oh, God! Ollie’s in the house alone.”

Heart spasming, I cup her face in my palms, draw her against me. “Take a breath.”

“But—”

“A breath, Pages.”

She inhales. Exhales.

“Good, sweetheart. Let’s go inside.” I take her hand and together we walk toward the front door.

She stops on the stoop, worry etched into the lines of her face. “But if I’m right?” she says softly. “What if this isn’t a weird coincidence and—” She cuts herself off, closes her eyes, and releases a shaky breath. “What if?” she finishes.

I touch her cheek. “We’ll figure it out, Pages. But right now, we need to call Faye and find out about the glass. If she doesn’t know anything about it, then we’ll go from there.”

“But where’s there?”

I open my mouth.

Only before I can admit, I have no fucking idea, Ollie comes tearing down the hall. “I want Ants on a Log, Saw-yur!”

“Got it, bud,” I tell him. “Want to grab the celery? I’ll be right there to help you.”

I close and lock the door, hand Lainey her phone, which is sitting beside her purse on the hall table. “Call Faye, Pages.”

“And then?” she whispers.

Stomach twisting, I glance down at the marriage certificate still clutched in my hand.

“Then we’ll figure out what the hell is going on.”

Thirty-Four

Lainey

“I know it’s probably nothing,” I say softly, the sound of Ollie’s dog show echoing through the air. “I just—” I press my hand to my belly as nerves twist and twine through it.

“We’ll check it out, regardless,” Detective Roberts says, leaning forward to take my hand. She squeezes lightly. “In the meantime, I’d invest in some cameras and make sure you keep your doors and windows locked at all times.”

Worry knots my stomach. “Cameras?”