“What do you think the chances are of us getting caught?”

“You, none. You wouldn’t know anything about it. Me, well, I’d take the fall in a heartbeat if it meant protecting you and the kids.” He placed a hand on my knee, squeezed, and kissed my cheek. “Worst-case scenario, if the cops do tie it back to us, I’ll say it was all me.” He cupped my chin, tilting my face toward his. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

Grant was willing to put his life on the line for Ryan, for our family, for me.

A chill ran up my arms—a chill caught between adoration for the man who would go to jail for me, and fear of the man who would kill for me. Who was he? Lover. Adulterer. Liar. Provider. Killer. Protector. The answer didn’t seem so black and white anymore.

After all of his secretive calls, then catching him lying about “poker with the guys,” I’d been shocked to find out he might be a cheater . . . but a killer too? And yet I admired his nobility, his willingness to take the fall. He could solve Ryan’s problem with the scribble of a pen, a pickup at the pharmacy, a visit with Mackenzie, where I’d discreetly poison Owen’s food. Without sanctimonious Owen leading the charge for Ryan’s crucifixion, Aria and Mackenzie would drop it. I was sure of it. It’d be over; Ryan would be safe.

As my own scheme unfolded, maybe I wasn’t as innocent as I thought. The things a mother would do for her child were unspeakable. As I contemplated the murder of my friend’s husband, I didn’t know if I should feel proud or scared of myself.

Chapter 25

Lily

FRIDAY EVENING

Mistakes come in threes.

I had been trying to avoid Grant like he was a germ-infested kid, I really had, but when Robin called to invite me to Ryan’s Gateway Gators baseball game, I couldn’t say no. She needed company, she whined, saying that she wasn’t really into baseball, never understood the game, and seven innings were just so damn long while dealing with Collette and Lucas that she’d blow her brains out if I wasn’t there to keep her company. So I said yes, I’d meet her at the ball field.

That was mistake number one.

Mistake number two happened two innings, three sneak-in-your-own-beers, and one nachos-and-cheese later as poor ignorant Robin sat between me and Grant chatting like everything was fine and dandy. Because as far as she knew, it was. Her marriage wasn’t crumbling around her, her friendship wasn’t stained with betrayal; her biggest concern was the cheese droppings on her jeans that she hoped wouldn’t stain.

When Grant left to greet the dad of one of the other players, Robin turned her full attention to me.