“I’ve been trying to reach him,” he goes on. “The owners are ready to keep his security deposit and move on if he doesn’t finish that paperwork. Should’ve closed already. They accepted his offer nearly two months ago.”

“Um, that’s news to me. I don’t know.” I force a smile. “You should try calling him at the Carolina Beach store. That’s where he’s working now.”

“Will do, thanks.” He rushes from the room like he might make the call now.

Suddenly, everyone in the room stares at me—not helping my nerves. “These tacos are delicious.”

Grady looks practically murderous, hovering at the bar’s end, his teeth clenched and his muscles flexed like he might rip the granite off its foundation.

A beautiful lakeside house gets added to The List of Things Marnie Lost in the Accident. Is that what’s transformed Relaxed Grady back into Grouchy Tripp? Or is he mad at his brother for dropping the bomb? Or both? I don’t know, but I feel bad either way. Spending time with me might hurt Grady more than it helps.

I finish the wine and hold my glass out to Elena for a refill.

“I knew you were a red,” she smirks.

“So, Marnie, do you like board games?” Carmela asks.

Do I like board games? It’s like asking if a bank robber likes money or a race car driver likes going fast. I don’t like board games; I adore them. Study them. Build them in my head. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night with a killer concept for my next project and can’t go back to sleep. That’s how much I love board games.

And yet, my thoughts jumble and race. Instead of relaxing with the wine, I’m overrun with angst over one sharp, prevailing thought.

I don’t belong here.

I’m just the woman with the ruined life, latching on to the man who pushed over the first domino.

“Bathroom?” I ask instead, the bar stool scraping the floor as I push out of it.

Seconds later, I’m behind a locked door of a guest bathroom. My hips ache as I shift to the counter and wobble against my cane. I’ve done too much today, and my body’s retaliating.

Worse, so is my head.

Warmth from the wine spreads through my belly, but it’s not giving me the jubilant feels I need for the occasion. It’s a game night, for goodness’ sake! It should be fun, witnessing a family at play.

Instead, it makes me wearily sad.

Sad for the house I never stepped foot in. That he never told me about. That he bought without me, knowing I’d go along with anything he wanted.

Sad for the home outside this door, the family game nights, kids running around, and big dinners that’ll never happen for me.