Maybe She'll Stay

ALSO BY ROBYN LUCAS Paper Doll Lina This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Text copyright © 2023 by Robyn Lucas All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542033657 (paperback) ISBN-13: 9781542033640 (digital) Cover design by Adrienne Krogh Cover illustration by Sylvia Pericles For everyone who has had to live under the cloud of a narcissistic parent: you are loved. To Charlie and Hannah, my heartbeats & To Jae, all the adventures with you CONTENTS CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 CHAPTER 27 CHAPTER 28 CHAPTER 29 CHAPTER 30 EPILOGUE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR CHAPTER 1 It’s not technically a walk of shame if you’re driving back home, right? Nancy Jewel tried to convince herself of that one last time before slipping back into her date-night dress. It’d met all her requirements the night before: short, to show off her gloriously long, tanned legs; cerulean, her favorite color, with a dark-greenish sheen that shimmered in different lighting; and perfectly tailored to her busty figure, creating the illusion of a waistline and a backside. She liked to think of it as her mermaid dress, luring men in with a swish of her hips until they gave her what she wanted. Now it was nothing more than a reminder that she’d seriously messed up. Maybe that was her problem this morning. She’d gotten just what she’d wanted out of Keith—a gloriously passionate night—but she’d been sloppy enough to fall asleep instead of leaving shortly afterward like she always had. She’d felt all romantic after spending the weekend at his youngest sister’s rustic wedding. It had been in an old barn, illuminated by candlelight and lanterns, their glow warm against the cool fall night. The never-ending champagne had sedated her sensibilities. She had only meant to pacify Keith with a few minutes of cuddling. Instead, she had been more tired than she’d estimated and was now going to miss a coffee date with her best friend and possibly be late for her first class of the week. Keith’s house was a pin-drop silent, ultramodern monstrosity of glass and steel in a high-end suburb nestled in the farthest corner of Athens, Georgia. She’d visited only a handful of times—all late-night rendezvous—and never considered how ridiculously bright and suspiciously clean his place was until witnessing it in the late-morning sunlight. His massive bedroom took up half of the first floor, and if she’d had time or cared more, she would have poked around. Keith, on the other hand, had been gone when she’d woken moments earlier. His side of the bed cold, the crumpled pillow and sheets the only evidence he’d been there. Nancy wondered if she should’ve felt something more than meh when she’d noticed his absence, but it was all she could muster. His purpose had been served, and now it was past time for her to leave. It wasn’t like they were dating dating or anything, and they sure as hell weren’t married—they’d already tried that seventeen years ago. Their marriage had lasted less than six months, a few weeks longer than their passion had burned, but they’d kept in touch throughout the years, eventually finding each other’s beds every now and then when they weren’t with other people. This latest frienifit period with Keith had been going on since Halloween, when she’d drunk-dialed him on a whim. He’d met her for dinner the very next day. It worked for her. It seemed to work for him as well, or so she thought, unsure of what his absence meant. Was he an early-morning runner? Did he have a meeting or have to be in for work? She vaguely remembered something about him now being a CrossFit fanatic. His lean forty-five-year-old body definitely showed it, so maybe he’d left for a session. Either way, she’d text him after her class to make sure they were good. As she stumbled onto the cold marble bathroom floor, she heard a door close, followed by footsteps and rustling. It was a little relieving knowing he’d returned. She wasn’t sure why and didn’t really have the desire to unpack it. She was simply glad he had and continued on with her bathroom necessities. After several minutes, a kettle whistled, followed by a whir of crunching and grinding. The glorious rich, earthy smell of coffee followed. Pour-over? She hadn’t quite pegged him as a pour-over type of guy, but it would be no surprise. He proudly sported a man bun and well-groomed beard. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes–level sleuthing to put two and two together when Keith had shown up to their most recent reacquaintance date in a bespoke suit, complete with matching vest and pocket square. “Morning!” Keith said a little too happily from the bathroom doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hands. “Um, morning.” Nancy frowned at the black coffee. Only serial killers drank black coffee. He gently shoved a mug into her hands. “I visit this small family farm in Colombia every quarter. Their fresh beans are top tier, and I roast them myself. There’s a technique, you know?” Keith took a long sip of coffee, the heat leaving little foggy patches on his thin, round glasses. He slid them back up his