So we were both still on the threshold, not newly married, no babies. Maybe someday we’d be signing our kids up for preschool together, but not yet.

Not yet.

The restaurant was just as big as everything else in Texas, but it wasn’t a steakhouse or Tex-Mex theme. The blown-glass artwork, the airy interior, and the eclectic menu made it sophisticated yet accessible.

And the women we met were just as polished and warm. Inés was the wife of an Argentinian surgeon, a “visiting scholar” at the medical school; Rachael was a graphic designer, pregnant with her first child; and an empty chair right next to me was reserved for Alondra.

Rachael said to us, “She texted me her order and said we should get started. You know how it is—a new case, a big-deal client—but she’ll be here. Eventually.”

“She’s a lawyer?” I whispered to Elizabeth as we sat down.

“Criminal defense,” she whispered back. “Always busy but really nice.”

I unfolded my napkin, sipped my water, and kept quiet, letting the conversation and the business of ordering flow around me. If I messed this up, who knew if Elizabeth would give me another chance, let alone the Bluebonnets.

As Rachael asked Elizabeth about someone I didn’t know. Elizabeth looked away and knocked her napkin on the floor. Inés took that opportunity to ask me some easy questions—where I’d moved from, what Michael did—and I turned them right back on her until our drinks were poured, our menus had been removed, and the server departed.

Rachael glanced down at her phone. “Inés, you know that car we were talking about, the one with Louisiana plates?”

Inés glanced at me, making sure I was paying attention. “First, we noticed it on the way to see the alligators at Brazos Bend State Park.”

“Getting our steps in.” Rachael flashed me her slim wristwatch, which must be a fitness tracker too. Even pregnant, she was tracking her steps? These women were hard-core.

“And that car looked brand-new, but it’s been parked on the side of the road for almost a week. I drove back around yesterday just to see, and there it was.” Inés widened her kohl-rimmed eyes like she was telling a ghost story.

Elizabeth’s smooth brow furrowed. “Maybe the people were camping?”

Rachael shook her head and held up her phone. “They were dead. Police just found them hacked to pieces.”

Inés gasped, and Elizabeth said sharply, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” Rachael snapped back. “It just hit my news feed. They were on their way back to Louisiana after visiting her folks in Rosenberg. Nobody knew to look for them on some country road, and even if they had, the bodies were way back in the swamp. Some pieces were missing because the gators—”