Crazy In Love: A Standalone Christmas Thriller

by Ivy Smoak

Snuggle Muffins sighed. I plopped him down, hoping he wouldn't run away. Not that I liked him. I just didn't want to have to go back to that animal drive. But he just sat down at my feet.

  "Oh. I didn't realize you had a dog."

  "He's new to the family. My husband and I picked him out a few weeks ago. We both love him dearly." Vom.

  For a second Charlotte and I just stared at each other. It was like she was waiting for me to tell her what was going on. But I wasn't about to tell her that I'd kidnapped my husband. Charlotte and I weren't close like that. Her fault, not mine. I smiled.

  "I made you a lasagna," Charlotte said and handed me the casserole dish.

  "Thanks." I'm pretty sure it came out more as a question. I took the dish from her and stood there awkwardly. Now was the time when I was supposed to invite her in and let her uncover all my secrets. But that was not happening. The last thing I needed was for her to wander into the basement and see my husband tied to a chair. I placed the casserole dish down on the front step instead, which drew her a little farther away from my house.

  "What's up, girl?" I asked. Girl? It was time to stop trying to be one of them. Clearly I didn't belong. She was only here because...why? Why the hell was she here?

  "I came over to see what was going on. I saw that handsome detective over here late last night. Damien Torres." She fanned herself with her hand. "And then again on my walk this morning."

  Ah. Right. Of course that's why she was here. I had been expecting the gossip to start. And honestly, I was a little excited to be the center of it. Maybe I'd be on the news soon. "Yeah." I wasn't in the mood to offer her any information.

  "So what are you two doing together?" She raised both her eyebrows up and down. Suggesting...

  God no. Why was her first thought that I was sleeping with Detective Torres? Yes, he was good looking, but I was a little busy kidnapping. Planning ball removals. Buying litter to pee in. Leaving a credit card trail. I tried to make myself look sad. I needed to squash any rumors about me having an affair. "My husband didn’t come home last night."

  Charlotte pressed her lips together. Then put her hand to her chest, right above her fake boobs. "I'm so sorry. I used to know a few people that got divorced. It's an awful thing."

  A divorce? Much too simple. Why was that the conclusion she came to? This lady was hella insane. She wanted everyone to be cheating on everyone. Now I was just suspicious of her. Maybe she was sleeping with my husband too. I wouldn't put it past him. "No. He didn't choose not to come home. He's missing." It was very important to my narrative that my neighbors thought my husband still loved me. I didn't want to be the jilted murderous wife. I just wanted to be the murderous wife. Charlotte didn't need to know that Detective Torres thought he'd run away with his mistress. That could be my little secret.

  Her eyes grew round. "Missing?"

  "Yes." I lowered my voice. "I think he may have been kidnapped." Okay, maybe that was a bit much. Especially since I was the only one that knew that for sure. But I was enjoying her fake sympathy.

  "Oh, dear." She reached out and touched my arm to continue whatever charade she was playing.

  Snuggle Muffins growled.

  Charlotte immediately removed her hand from me as we both stared down at my dog.

  He could sense that Charlotte was bad news too. Such a good boy. "Well, I should probably go keep calling family and friends to see if anyone's heard anything." I did that sniffling thing I was mastering.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

  Did she not take the hint? She was neither family nor friend. "You've already done too much. The lasagna smells divine." Although, I had no idea why she made me something she'd never eat. Maybe she was just trying to fatten me up with carbs. "Actually, you know what? Could you maybe ask around the neighborhood? See if anyone knows something we could tell Detective Torres."

  "I'd be happy to."

  Of course you would.

  "And you're sure you don't need anything else? If you want to talk...I'm here for you. I could come in and..."

  "No." I cleared my throat. "I really just need to be alone." I wiped under my eyes even though there weren't any tears.

  "I understand. Stay strong. The cops will find him. This neighborhood's already been through enough."

  She was referring to Violet Clark and Adeline Bell. And the funny thing was that she had no idea that I idolized them. They had life right. They took justice into their own hands. I was going to be one of them. The three badass suburban housewives that went down in history. I just needed to get my answers first. A confession that my husband was cheating. And access to my money again. Then I'd be on the run too. "Absolutely," I said. "I'll see you later."

  Charlotte was waiting for me to go back into my house.

  And I was waiting for her to leave my front porch. If I opened the door she might be able to hear screaming. "Bye," I said, hoping it didn't sound rude.

  "Okay. Just call if you need anything. And don't forget that lasagna."

  Right. I lifted it up and smiled.

  She smiled back. "And if you need any help decorating for the annual Christmas light competition, let me know."

  Did she not understand that I'd retired from being a perfect suburban housewife? "Will do." You're dismissed.

  She finally retreated.

  I let out the breath I'd been holding. Soon my whole neighborhood would know my husband was "missing." Everyone would be talking about me. When Charlotte was well out of earshot, I opened the front door. I was expecting to hear yelling, but it was quiet. Snuggle Muffins trotted after me back into the house.

  "You know, you were supposed to stay in the kitchen." I looked down at him.

  He sighed.

  "But you were right to growl. She's a meanie. Don't be fooled by the lasagna." I lifted it up. "Dirty housewife games."

  I swore Snuggle Muffins nodded.

  "Okay, let's go get wasted. Well, not you. And not me either. Loose lips sink ships. And my ship isn't going down. My husband's is going down. Burn baby burn."

  Snuggle Muffins sighed.

  Why am I talking to a dog?

  ***

  "Fa la la la la, I have your drink." I set down the tray and lifted up the bottle of champagne my husband and I had been saving for a special occasion. Today felt special to me.

  He stayed silent as I poured the champagne into the flutes we'd used on our wedding day. What he didn't know was that the bottle was only half filled with champagne. I was going for drunk. Not a mild buzz. It was half vodka now. And a splash of orange juice to cover the flavor.

  I put the flute to his lips and he took a sip. And then coughed. "What the hell is that?"

  "You asked for a drink."

  He stared at me. "Are you drugging me again?"

  "I would never. That was a one-time thing, I swear."

  I put the champagne flute back up to his lips but he refused to take another sip.

  Damn it. I lifted up my flute and took the tiniest of sips. "See? Not poisoned."

  "Drink from my glass."

  I rolled my eyes and drank from his glass. "Satisfied?"

  "No I'm not satisfied. I'm tied up in your basement."

  Your basement. He was still staring at me like he didn't know who I was. I was nervous to come down here because I thought he'd remembered. If he didn't remember, there was no point in getting him drunk. Or did he remember and was just playing games with my head? I stared at him.

  "You're glaring at me again," he said.

  "I don't glare." I put the glass to his lips but he denied it again.

  "Every time you take a sip, I'll take a sip. No more, no less."

  He was being impossible. How was I supposed to have the upper hand now? Especially since I hadn't dumped half the champagne down the drain earlier. A lot of it had ended up in my mouth. I took the tiniest sip and then put the glass back up to his lips. He drank willingly.

  "Look, I'm going to make this very clear," I sai
d. "I just need to confirm exactly what happened with Sophia Tremblay and for how long. And not just her." Now I was pretty sure I really was glaring. "I want to know about every indiscretion. The length of each. All of it. And I need you to give me the account number that you transferred all our money into. And then you're free."

  "I don’t know any Sophia's. And I don't know anything about the money."

  "Okay." I took a sip. Forced a sip on him. We went back and forth several times. I refilled the glass.

  "Just tell me," I said. I was bad at questioning. Maybe if I reworded the questions? The hit to the head could have made him dumb. I forced more liquor down his throat to stall.

  There was a scratching noise at the basement door. I'd somehow slipped away from Snuggle Muffins earlier and he was finally retaliating.

  "You should probably let your dog down here."

  "He's our dog now." I sighed and stood up. My head was fuzzy. This wasn't good. But if my head was fuzzy so was his. I was close to getting the answers I needed. So close. I wobbled up the stairs and opened the door. My diva of a dog waited for me to lift him up and carry him into the basement.

  I placed him down and plopped into my chair. And then I just...waited. For a confession. For all the information to pour out of him willingly.

  He licked his lips in that distracting way and stared back.

  "Fine," I said. "I don’t need a confession." I knew he was a cheat. I didn't need to hear about it. And clearly an "I'm sorry" wasn't coming my way. Men. "Just tell me about the money."

  "I'm telling you...I don't remember."

  Asshole. "Give me my money back or I'll...make Snuggle Muffins attack."

  He started laughing. Really hard.

  Instead of getting mad, I started laughing too. "Snuggle Muffins, attack!" The words were barely audible through my laughter.

  Snuggle Muffins sighed.

  "That was the most unintimidating threat I've ever heard," he said. "Attack dogs can't be named Snuggle Muffins."

  "You should have heard him growl at one of the neighbors today. He has some bite to him."

  "Which neighbor?"

  "Stupid Charlotte. You know...one of the blonde ones."

  "Ah. Charlotte."

  The laughter died in my throat. "You do remember."

  He smiled. Cockily. "I don't remember, sweetheart. I'm just hoping something will ring a bell. And why are you so caught up on Stupid Charlotte having blonde hair? You're a blonde too. A very sexy blonde."

  I pressed my lips together. I wasn't a blonde. I took a huge sip from the champagne flute and forced him to do the same. "Do you like blondes?"

  "I like you."

  "I kidnapped you. I tied you up. I made you pee in a bucket. And I bought cat litter so that the next time you have to go it'll be easier to clean up. You don't like me."

  He licked his lips again. "I want to put a pin in that cat litter bit. We need to come back to that. But I do like you. You're spunky. And brave. And maybe a little bit..."

  "Crazy?"

  "Passionate," I was going to say. "You're exactly my type of girl. I can see why we got married."

  I looked down at my ring finger. The rings were still on my bedside table, but there were tan lines. It was easy to tell I was married. I looked back at him. "Where is your ring?" I asked. He had the same tan line on his finger. But his ring wasn't sitting on the bedside table.

  "Where are yours?" he asked.

  "I have a right not to wear mine. I'll say it again...Sophia Tremblay." I said her name slowly like he was an idiot. "Let’s try to refocus here.” I wasn’t sure it was me or him that needed to focus though. “Does Dr. Collins ring any bells? And what about fucking Charlotte? You seemed to light up to her name."

  "Put your rings back on," he said.

  "No."

  "Sweetheart, I'm asking nicely."

  Don't call me that. I took another sip of my monster drink concoction and forced him to do the same. "No."

  "I probably just lost my ring,” he said. “Or maybe it's in my pocket."

  "I already checked your pockets."

  "All of them?" He looked down at his pants.

  "Yes, all of them. I'm nothing if not thorough."

  "You molested me after you threw me down the stairs?" He seemed to find that funny and started laughing again.

  "For the record, I checked your pockets before you slipped down the stairs. But after this conversation, if we come across another set of stairs together, I will definitely throw you down."

  "You molested me."

  "I did not molest you! I'm not a pervert. I'm a kidnapper. And clearly you wanted it anyway, so this conversation is pointless."

  "You're right." His laughter died away. "I do. You want to molest me again right now? I can't do anything to stop you. I’m all tied up."

  Why was that idea so sexy? I hated him. He hated me. But for some reason I found myself getting overheated. He did look good in that leather jacket. And his hair was all mussed up in that way I loved. Who cared if it was because he had been struggling against his gag like a bad prisoner? Hot was hot.

  "I’m still waiting for that kiss," he said. "Help me remember."

  "I'm still waiting for you to give me my money back." Good. Stay strong.

  "Okay. I'll tell you everything. If." He stared at me. "If...you kiss me."

  Not this again. "You're insane."

  "And if you kiss me twice I'll tell you about Sophia. Another kiss and I'll tell you about Dr. Collins. And clearly nothing happened between me and Charlotte. Rumor is she's pretty stupid, and I'm into smart girls. But I'll take as many kisses as you want to give me."

  Why was I smiling right now? Stop smiling. "This is my kidnapping," I said. "I'm in charge."

  "Of course you are. I'm tied up. Completely at your mercy." His eyes trailed to the V in my sweater.

  "But you're trying to make the rules. And I'm the one making the rules." I stood up and the basement seemed to tilt. Which tilted my mind somehow into a great idea. A terrible, awful, perfect idea. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get a confession out of you. It's going to be too hard to resist."

  "Oh, I'm definitely hard."

  I tried to ignore his dirty words and pulled Snuggle Muffins into my arms. "We'll be back." I practically ran upstairs.

  Chapter 11

  Saturday

  He wanted to play a game. So, I'd play a game. But it was going to be my game with my terms. And he was about to get played. I adjusted the straps on my silk lingerie set and stared in the mirror. The red color didn’t exactly complement my reindeer masquerade mask, but it worked in a Christmassy kind of way. And the high heels made my legs look amazing. I turned to see more of my reflection. The heels also made my ass look extra perky.

  Snuggle Muffins sighed.

  I tore my eyes away from my reflection. "Don't judge me."

  He just stared at me.

  "Why are you even up here? You're supposed to be in the kitchen." Oh right. I definitely carried him up here on the pretense that I needed a second opinion. "So, what do you think?" I put my hands on my hips and struck a pose I'd seen twenty-something Instagram models use.

  He just stared at me. His eyes said it all. I wasn't instafamous.

  "You think this is a bad idea, don't you?"

  I swore he shook his head.

  He was probably right. But I was having fun. It had been a long time since I'd teased my husband like this. And whenever we used any kind of ropes, usually I was the one tied up. In the middle of our bed. Him being tied to a chair lit a fire in me. I had no idea why. I could do whatever I wanted to him. And I wanted to do something to him. I was pretty sure he wanted it too.

  "Stop looking at me like that." I threw my hands in the air and stared down at my defiant dog. "I'm not going to sleep with him." I squinted my eyes. "Of course I swear."

  Snuggle Muffins sighed.

  "Don't give me that old man sass. This game could help him remember." I gave the lame excus
e that he'd given me about the kiss. I shook my head. "I'm not going to kiss him," I said. "I'm just going to tease him a bit. Like...I'll show you my left tit if you tell me about Sophia." I looked back at my reflection. Did I really want to know why he was attracted to her? Would hearing what I didn't have make me feel better? Or a thousand times worse?

  God, this was stupid. I pulled my ridiculously short matching satin nightgown over top of my lingerie and then added my baggy flannel pajama top to cover myself even better. At least now I'd have the option to not go through with it. I wasn't exactly in a good state of mind to make a decision like this. I was absolutely drunk. My belly was filled exclusively with vodka, champagne, and orange juice. And I was pretty sure he was drunk too because he hadn't even asked to try Charlotte's horrible lasagna. Fine, not horrible. Average. Mediocre at best.

  "Let's go back to our prisoner and take advantage of his loose lips," I said. I was about to lift Snuggle Muffins into my arms when I noticed that he was sniffing a book on the bookshelf. No, not a book. I leaned down and pulled out the white photo album with gold writing on the front. Our wedding album.

  Noah and Ensley. I ran the tip of my index finger along the romantic scrawl etched into the fabric. I opened to a random page and saw my husband and I dancing. He looked just as good in a tux as he did in a leather jacket and jeans. And he was smiling. So hard. What happened to us?

  I turned to another page. He was shoving cake into my mouth and we were both laughing. He'd completely ruined my makeup and I was so happy that I didn't care. We were so happy. I swallowed hard and skipped to the last page. All our guests had lit sparklers and formed a line outside the reception hall. I remembered going through that line and then scrambling into the limo, still in my wedding dress. He'd made sure that the whole poofy mess was securely inside the car before shutting the door. And when he'd joined me in the back seat of the limo, his lips were upon me in an instant. I didn't even wave goodbye to the guests because we couldn't wait to be alone. He'd loved me. He was insatiable. He was...a memory.

  Snuggle Muffins nudged his head into my shin. I snapped the wedding album shut. What was I doing? Trying to rekindle a flame that had burnt out years ago? Just because he didn't remember...didn't mean it hadn't happened. He’d cheated on me. With at least two women. I hated him. I hated him and I... I still loved him.