Her Perfect Life by Rebecca Taylor
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.3 MB
Reclusive Clare Collins crafts her novels like she crafts her life: perfectly. So the world is stunned when the famous author is found dead on the beach from a self-inflicted gunshot — the morning after her latest book hits the shelves.
Her sister, Eileen, is at a loss. Clare led a charmed life: success, mansions, money…why would she throw it all away? But while reading through her sister’s latest—and greatest—novel, Eileen discovers a clue that unravels the fiction and reveals the painful truth. Suddenly, the life that Eileen had envied doesn’t seem so sparkling . . .
Her Perfect Life is a page-turning debut that reminds us that no matter the success, everyone has secrets. And some are more devastating than others.
She was having one of those emotionally vulnerable moments their therapist was often trying to get her to understand. All the signs were there: short temper, racing thoughts, catastrophic thinking—check, check, and check. All confirmed and completely undeniable in light of the huge fight she and Eric had last night.
The memory of it, with the morning hangover beginning to bloom, made her take a breath and hold it tight. Shit, what exactly had she been raving about? Because all of it was absolutely going to get rehashed at therapy next week. Eric certainly would not forget her every word; he never did. Eileen placed both her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands.
“A whole bottle of cab,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. “Come on, Eileen.” The normally endearing expression broke her. The tears gathered and pooled behind her closed eyes.
Eric hadn’t sung her that song in years.
No, not now. She sat up and checked the time on the computer screen. Shit and shit…what had she been doing? Twenty minutes before they were all supposed to be out the door, and not a single one of her kids was even out of bed. Lunches, the laundry she didn’t move from the washer to the dryer last night, homework? Had she checked homework last night?
Time hated her—and it was so clearly personal.
Eighteen minutes. An impossibility. A series of miracles would not save them this morning. Everyone would be late, again. Well, everyone except Eric, of course. Eric was already out of the house, showered, dressed, pressed, and cologned. His lunch—the only one he ever packed—would be placed calmly and professionally onto the back seat of his immaculate and always client-ready car.
This, she remembered suddenly, is what had started the fight last night.
“I’m tired. I’m tired of doing everything,” she had finally managed to say, standing at the sink and slamming a cast-iron frying pan into the stainless steel tub hard enough to dent it.
“Just tell me!” Eric said, throwing both his hands over his head. “What the hell do you want me to do?”
“Why do I have to tell you? Look around, Eric. The To Do is all around you. For fuck’s sake, pick anything! Because I can’t manage the kids, the house, the bills, the yard, the every-fucking-thing anymore. My car! My car has not had the oil changed in a year!”
“What?” Startled, he shook his head as if this was the most disturbing thing, the most pressing concern. “Eileen! A year?” His tone was accusing. “You’re lucky it’s still running. You can’t let that go like that.”
She stared at him. A swift and unexpected calm moved over her so fast it made the hair at the back of her neck stand up. She couldn’t make him understand, but she absolutely knew what the next words out of her mouth needed to be.