“I glance at my wife as she climbs into the passenger seat, and I am bursting with confidence. Today will be everything I’ve promised her…and more…”
Paul Strom has the perfect life: a glittering career as an advertising executive, a beautiful wife, two healthy boys and a big house in a wealthy suburb. And he’s the perfect husband: breadwinner, protector, provider. That’s why he’s planned a romantic weekend for his wife, Mia, at their lake house, just the two of them. And he’s promised today will be the best day ever.
But as Paul and Mia drive out of the city and toward the countryside, a spike of tension begins to wedge itself between them and doubts start to arise. How much do they trust each other? And how perfect is their marriage, or any marriage, really?
Forcing us to ask ourselves just how well we know those who are closest to us, Best Day Ever crackles with dark energy, spinning ever tighter toward its shocking conclusion. In the bestselling, page-turning vein of The Couple Next Door and The Dinner, Kaira Rouda weaves a gripping, tautly suspenseful tale of deception and betrayal dark enough to destroy a marriage…or a life.
Praise for Best Day Ever
“Riveting and provocative, Best Day Ever is a gripping suspense that plays with your mind and makes you wonder how well you truly know your spouse....You won’t be able to put this book down until its jaw-dropping ending. Absolutely brilliant!”
—Kerry Lonsdale, Wall Street Journal bestselling author of Everything We Keep
“Deliciously diabolical and highly readable, Best Day Ever kept me flipping the pages with anticipation and fascination. Unputdownable!”
—A. J. Banner, USA TODAY bestselling author of The Twilight Wife
“Clever pacing and an unreliable and chillingly unrepentant narrator.”
—Kimberly McCreight, New York Times bestselling author of Reconstructing Amelia and The Outliers
“Kaira Rouda’s Best Day Ever is a breath of fresh air. Paul Strom’s narrative voice is irreverent, arrogant, and yet, utterly addicting. You’ll whip through the pages. Highly entertaining and truly surprising!”
—Kate Moretti, New York Times bestselling author of The Vanishing Year
“A creepy, spine-tingling and utterly addictive tale of domestic suspense.”
—Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke, bestselling authors of The Good Widow
“This may well be the most entertaining read of your year.”
—Kathryn Craft, award-winning author of The Far End of Happy
KAIRA ROUDAis a bestselling, multiple-award-winning author of contemporary fiction. Her work has won numerous awards, including the Indie Excellence Award and Reader’s Choice Award.
The day that she found out that her new novel would be published by HarperCollins really was the best day ever , although she’s very glad that this one doesn’t come with a shocking twist.
She lives in Southern California with her family and is at work on her next novel. Connect with her on Facebook at Kaira Rouda Books, and on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram: @kairarouda. For more, visit her website, www.kairarouda.com.
For my daughter, Avery Robinson Rouda.
Continue to write the stories that speak to your heart and never stop believing in your power to change the world for the better.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise for Best Day Ever
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Morning 9:00 a.m.
Chapter 1
10:30 a.m.
Chapter 2
11:00 a.m.
Chapter 3
11:30 a.m.
Chapter 4
Noon
Chapter 5
12:30 p.m.
Chapter 6
2:00 p.m.
Chapter 7
4:00 p.m.
Chapter 8
5:00 p.m.
Chapter 9
5:30 p.m.
Chapter 10
6:15 p.m.
Chapter 11
7:30 p.m.
Chapter 12
8:00 p.m.
Chapter 13
8:15 p.m.
Chapter 14
8:45 p.m.
Chapter 15
9:00 p.m.
Chapter 16
9:15 p.m.
Chapter 17
9:30 p.m.
Chapter 18
10:00 p.m.
Chapter 19
10:30 p.m.
Chapter 20
11:00 p.m.
Chapter 21
11:30 p.m.
Chapter 22
12:00 a.m.
Chapter 23
12:15 a.m.
Chapter 24
12:20 a.m.
Chapter 25
12:25 a.m.
Chapter 26
12:35 a.m.
Chapter 27
1:00 a.m.
Chapter 28
1:45 a.m.
Chapter 29
2:45 a.m.
Chapter 30
4:45 a.m.
Chapter 31
One Year Later
Epilogue
Paul Strom’s Playlist for The Best Day Ever
Author Note
Acknowledgments
Reader’s Group Discussion Questions
Copyright
Morning 9:00 a.m.
1
I glance at my wife as she climbs into the passenger seat, sunlight bouncing off her shiny blond hair like sparklers lit for the Fourth of July, and I am bursting with confidence. Everything is as it should be.
Here we are, just the two of us, about to spend the weekend at our lake house. Today represents everything I’ve worked for, that we have built together. The sun blasts through my driver’s side window with such intensity I feel the urge to hold my hand up to the side of my face to shield my eyes, even though my sunglasses are dark and should be doing the job. Under any other circumstances, on any other day, they would be, I know. But today, something is different between us; some strange tension pulses through the still air of the car’s interior. I cannot see it, but it’s here. I’d like to name it. Discover its source and eliminate it.
Sure, this morning has been hectic. It’s a Friday, and Fridays always seem the most frenzied when you have kids. Getting the boys up and dressed, and then dropping them off at their immaculately landscaped and highly ranked redbrick elementary school where they will no doubt excel, in first and third grade respectively. Truth be told, though, I usually have little to do with the scenario I just outlined. Mia, my wife, handles all the tasks pertaining to the boys each morning. We’re a traditional suburban household in that respect. In the morning, I make coffee, shower, dress and leave for work before the boys awaken. Yes, mine is quite a selfish and single-minded pursuit on most days.
That’s another reason why today is so special. I drove the boys to school, reminded them that the babysitter would be picking them up afterward. When I returned to the house, I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I can be helpful when I want to be, although I don’t want to remind Mia of this fact as she may come to expect it. Dishes finished, I had called up the stairs to Mia, urging her to hurry. We haven’t had a weekend together, just the two of us alone, for more than a year. This day was going to be just for us, and it was time to go.
She called back, her voice floating like a butterfly down the stairs, asking for my help with her luggage. The next moment, I found myself lugging two huge suitcases down the grand main staircase of our home. She followed behind me with a laundry basket filled with who knows what.
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