Page 41 of The Arrangement

“Aren’t you the one who said we need to keep our story straight?”

“With the police, yes. But our marital issues aren’t Illiana’s concern, and that’s what I’ll tell the cops.”

“I don’t want this to get out,” he said. “What will the kids think?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, too,” I agreed. “But right now, we have to wait and see what’s going to happen.”

“She’s not going to give up.”

“There’s nothing for them to find,” I said assertively. “We have to remain calm.” I drew out the last two words. “That means you.”

“I am calm,” he said, though we both knew he was lying. “I think we need to move him.”

“We can’t do that,” I snapped. “It’s too risky.”

“More risky than leaving him buried under our porch?” he asked, his cheeks growing splotchy with scarlet as his anger took over.

I stood my ground, my arms folded across my chest. “More risky than unburying him and trying to move him without getting caught.”

He groaned. “I disagree. Having him here is the biggest risk, Ains. We have to be smart about this.

“I agree. And moving him would not be smart.”

“I think it would,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

“But do what you decide anyway…”

I didn’t nod, but I didn’t need to. We both knew it was how it would go. I was the only one who could think rationally in a moment of pressure.

It was why Peter had always been so impulsive in heated situations. While, under normal circumstances, he was prone to thinking things through thoroughly, in moments of fear or anger, he’d been known to lose control of himself. He let his fear, his passion, his worry, and his desire make decisions before his brain could.

He lived inside his head, where horrible outcomes were always right around the corner, and that quite often brought him to moments like this. Moments when he said or did the wrong thing and couldn’t manage to stop it. No, if anyone was going to handle this, it would be me.

“I could go out there and do it anyway.”

I scoffed, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Be my guest, Peter. That sounds like the smartest possible thing right now when we’re sure our friend, Illiana, could be back any moment with the police. But sure, you go right ahead and get to digging.”

Panic and anger swelled in me, each fighting to supersede the other. My vision began to tunnel at the thought of police pulling into the driveway. Police asking me to replay my version of events for them. Handcuffs on his wrists. The slam of prison bars.

“I need some air,” he said, bringing me back to him.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, but he was past me before the sentence ended. He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and stormed out of the house. I watched as he went but made no move to stop him. I needed space as much as he did.

Chapter Twenty-Six

PETER

I needed to stop thinking for a second. The decision I made next wasn’t smart, but I wasn’t entirely coherent. My usually clear thoughts were a foggy mess of worry, anger, rage, fear, exhaustion, and confusion. I needed clarity, and I tried to think of the last time I had true clarity.

That was how I found myself on Mallory’s doorstep that evening, praying she was at home. I half expected her to ignore me when she came to the door, or worse yet, not remember me, but I had to try, and I couldn’t chance reaching out to her on the app anymore.

I rapped my knuckles on the wood of the door, trembling with a mixture of excitement and nerves. I had no business being there. I wasn’t oblivious to that fact. I just needed to feel something that wasn’t worry for a few minutes, and being around Ainsley only made me feel more worried. More anxious. More—

“Gina?”

Gina stood in front of me wearing a black sports bra and yoga pants. Her hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head, with sweat collecting around the edges of her temples. She furrowed her brow, looking at the Apple Watch on her wrist and back at me. I stepped off the stoop, looking at the house number and back at my car.