Page 70 of Beautiful Ugly

“You are speaking to the author of aNew York Timesbestseller,” he said, and I could hear the pure joy in his voice. He’d worked so hard and I was genuinely happy for him in that moment, regardless of everything else going on and what I knew I had to tell him. I started to cry.

“I am so proud of you!” I said, trying to keep my emotions in check and the car on the right side of the road. “I love you,” I added without thinking. The words sounded strange out loud. Foreign. I couldn’t remember the last time we had said that we loved each other. When he didn’t say anything in response I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “I’m almost home. Not far at all now. Take the champagne out and—”

I hit the brakes.

“Oh my god. What’s happened?” Grady asked. My heart was thudding inside my chest and I wasn’t able to answer at first. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“I’m fine, but... there is a woman lying in the road.”

“What? Did you hit her?”

“No! Of course not. She was already there, that’s why I stopped.”

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m on the cliff road. I’m going to get out and see if—”

“No!” he shouted.

“What do you mean,no? I can’t leave her lying in the lane, she might be hurt.”

“Then call the police. You’re almost home. Do not get out of the car.”

I have never taken orders from a man and I wasn’t about to start.

“If you’re worried about the fish-and-chips getting cold—”

“I’m worried aboutyou,” he said.

When I started receiving threats at work I actually wondered if it was Grady at first. Whether he was trying to scare me into leaving my job. It wasn’t him. I knew who was responsible for that by then. I’d started recording all of my incoming calls, and with the help of apolice contact, I had a good idea who was behind the anonymous messages and hate mail. I only continued to record the calls to gather evidence. Earlier that day, a white box addressed to me was delivered to the newspaper. My editor was with me and more concerned than I was when I opened the box and saw an antique doll with its mouth stitched shut. I wasn’t scared of the people who were trying to silence me, but looking back, I wish that maybe I had been. Perhaps then I might have stayed in the car.

Grady was still concerned that something was going to happen to me because of my chosen career. He even put an app on my phone so that he could see where I was at all times and know that I was safe. It made me realize that he still loved me—even if he’d forgotten how to show it—and that there was a way to fix us.

The woman lying in the road was wearing a red jacket, just like the one I owned. It seemed like a strange coincidence at the time but it was a common enough coat with a hood and large buttons, lots of women wore a similar style and color. I couldn’t see the face under the hood, but I was worried there had been an accident—a hit-and-run perhaps—and that she was hurt. I unfastened my seat belt and opened the car door.

“Pleasedon’tget out of the car,” Grady said.

“I have to. What if it were me lying in the road, wouldn’t you want someone to stop and help?”

“Wait, don’t hang up!”

“Fine, if it makes you feel better. I love you,” I said again, then I quickly got out of the car so I didn’t have to hear him not say it back.

It was cold, and dark, and it had started to rain. We weren’t as happily married as Grady thought we were, but all I wanted was to go home and be with my husband. I was tired after a long day at work, and several sleepless nights spent worrying about what I needed to tell him. I had planned to tell Grady the following day and let him enjoy the success of his book that night. I didn’t want to spoil his big moment. I’d been lying to him for some time by then and there were things Iknew I needed to say. But because of what happened next I never got to tell him at all.

The noise of the waves crashing against the cliff down below sounded like a warning. Something instinctive was silently screaming at me to turn back, get in the car, lock the doors, and drive home. But I didn’t do that. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to walk away from someone in trouble. I suppose they knew me well enough to know that about me.

When I finally saw who was lying in the road I felt confused.

Then I felt afraid.

But it was too late.

CRASH LANDING

GRADY

“Hi, Grady. I think we need to talk,” Abby says.