Page 62 of Her Dark Lies

“She’s fine—she’s totally fine. Like, literally had two glasses and stopped.”

“Two glasses total? Or two a meal?”

“Really, Claire, I shouldn’t have even said anything. Forget I mentioned it. She’s fine. Wow, it’s beautiful here.” Harper stalks to the edge of the terrace, and I realize she is wearing studded Louboutin high-heeled boots. Good to see New York is treating her well.

“That yacht is incredible. We’re having the rehearsal dinner on the boat, right?”

“Right. Brunch today, rehearsal tonight. There’s supposed to be a break in the weather.”

“The wedding is moved up, too?”

“Yes. It’s not such a big deal, especially since now, everyone’s here.” I smile, injecting some extra sweet into it to cover my dark thoughts. If my mother is drinking again, that is bad news.

“I swear, Claire, if you were any more agreeable...”

“Hush, Harper. No sense fighting it. Henna knows what she’s doing. So does Ana. I’m just along for the ride. Besides, I’m down with being married sooner. I’m going mad with all the waiting.”

“Speaking of the wedding, Harper, you can’t wear heels that high for the ceremony. You’re going to tower over everyone,” Katie gripes.

“I know. Don’t worry, I have flats. Like, ten pairs or something. I couldn’t decide which matched the dress best, so I brought them all. I can take pictures and let my peeps decide.”

“You know, if you weren’t such a savvy businesswoman, Harper, I’d think you were a vacuous twit.”

“Fuck off, Katie.”

Well, this is a lovely start. “Truce, ladies. Please? For me? Hey, if it stops raining for a while, maybe we can spend some time exploring. We can hike up to the big cliff. Did you know Caesar once hid here? The history is incredible.”

“Sounds like fun. Though we don’t need you tripping and breaking an ankle before the wedding.” Harper’s camera is in her hand, she is already snapping away. She stops, looks at me over her shoulder. “I’m looking forward to...you know,” she says quietly.

“I know. Jack will come get you later. I’m not sure of the timing.”

“For what?” Katie demands.

“The photoshoot,” Harper says, the sense of pride in her voice obvious.

At Katie’s confused look, I provide the rest. “Brice and Ana thought it would be nice for Harper to do some candid family shots,” I say.

“AndFlairis going to run the spread. I’m going to interview Brice and Ana for them.”

“Because this wedding is all about Brice Compton,” Katie grumbles. “Figures.”

“It’s a legitimate business opportunity, and of course the story will discuss Jack and Claire.”

“Yeah, right.”

I’m so used to their fussing that I’ve already tuned out their squabble. Always the same. It’s why I don’t normally try to get them together like this. Harper and Katie snipe at each other, incessantly.

Then again, Katie snipes at everyone these days. My transition away from her best friend to Jack Compton’s wife is going to be a difficult one, and we both know it.

We need a distraction, and I’m hot with the urge to confess. To purge myself. To be washed clean by the benediction of the women in my life. They will understand. They will.

But I have to censor myself. I can’t get them in trouble.

Katie sees me trying to find the words. “What’s wrong, Claire?”

I blow out a long breath. “I guess the most pressing thing is someone ruined my dress.”

Harper whirls around. “What do you mean, someone ruined your dress?”