“No.” Sergio jerked the picture from my hands and stared. “That’s Andi.”
“No.” I shook my head, unable to believe what he was saying. “That’s my best friend. She’s—she’s fine, and she’s happy, and you’re just confused because you’re sad.” Tears streamed down my face. “Everyone has a doppelganger you know? Everyone! It’s not her!”
Sergio’s eyes closed briefly before he held out his hand. “There’s something you need to see.”
I wanted to climb under the blankets. I wanted to ignore him, ignore the pain in my chest at his expression, ignore the world, but his eyes had changed, transformed from this deeply rooted sadness to something worse.
Pity.
I grabbed his hand and followed him down to the guest room where he’d grabbed the swimsuits.
He opened the door wide.
And turned on the lights.
It wasn’t a huge room.
Still pretty in its own way, even though it was smaller than mine, less new. Then again, it could be the fact that the blinds were drawn, a choking sensation wrapped itself around my neck as I tried to inhale through the staleness of the room, with shaking hands I touched my neck in an effort to free up the air.
“This…”Sergio grabbed a framed picture, held it close to his chest, and closed his eyes briefly. “This is Andi.”
I reached for it, but he didn’t hand it over, instead he eyed me up and down with suspicion as if I knew some great secret.
“What?”
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“What are you talking about?” I think, deep down, I suspected, maybe I even knew, but I didn’t want to know, I wanted to turn on my heel and run out of the house, out into the field, I wanted to run, and I had no idea why, other than the look on his face told me my world, or the world I’d known up until then, was going to be shattered one last time, maybe for good.
He sighed and bowed his head, then handed over the frame.
The minute my hands locked on it, it was like a physical shift in my body as I turned it over and stared.
My friend Ara… was Andi.
The same smile, lips, posture, eyes.
Shaking, I nearly dropped the picture until Sergio held my hands, gripping them in his.
I should be confused, scared, angry, so many things, instead, all I felt, was such a horrific sadness that I collapsed to my knees and sobbed.
Because it was she who had helped me.
She who had, at one point, made me feel alive.
She had who rescued me when nobody knew I needed saving.
It was his dead wife.
Who had brought me into the land of the living.
And I couldn’t even thank her.
I couldn’t say thank you.
And worst of all — I hadn’t even known she was gone — until it was too late.
“No.” I pressed my hands against the carpeted floor and tried to breathe through my tears. “No, it’s not true. You’re lying! It’s a trick!” I didn’t recognize my own voice as I screamed at him.
“Breathe.” Sergio ran his hand down my spine and whispered urgently, “Breathe in and out.”
“I am!” I choked out a breath. “Breathing! Leave me alone!” I tried to swat his hand away but all of my strength was zapped the minute I locked eyes with her.
It had to be her.
It had to be her.
“Why?” I finally croaked out once I was able to form the words. “Why would she do that to me? Befriend me then leave?” And die. I didn’t say the last part, maybe I didn’t need to. It was a selfish thought, but I was feeling selfish, and more than abandoned, tricked even.
Had our friendship been real at all?
Or had she used me?
With a sigh, Sergio joined me on the floor. A sliver of sunlight peaked through the curtain drawing a line on the carpet between our bodies.
“I wish I had answers. I don’t.” He sighed. “I had no idea, Val, believe me. If I had…”
“What?” I gasped. “What would you have done? Anything different?” Please say no. It was hard enough being rejected by him, but being married to the man my best friend had loved with her whole heart, knowing he had felt the same way about her.
It was impossible not to feel angry and hurt, but what was even worse, was I could see it, how easily she fell even if it wasn’t on purpose, and how much she must have loved him.
“What were you holding earlier?” Sergio asked. “In your bedroom?”
I stared down at my hands. “Letters.”
“Letters,” he repeated. “From Andi? Or Ara?” he corrected.
“No.” I frowned. “I have no idea who sent them, I was given a key to a security box at the bank and—”
“And you’re just telling me this now?” His voice rose an octave as he scooted closer to me. “Seriously! It could have been a trap! You could have gotten hurt. Need I remind you that there’s a pissed off Russian who wants to kill you?”
I shivered at the thought. “It was before I met you.”