She didn’t complete the sentence. Neither of us spoke for a moment. Arya was the first to take a step forward. She pressed her hand to my chest.
“I’ve been burned in the past. I don’t know if you understand what you are offering me, but my confidence in other people—especially men—is shredded right now. My sibling, my twin, my blood, died before I could ever know him. The first boy I loved ran away, then died. The man who was supposed to protect me, my father, has lied to me my entire life. In between there were others. Men, boys, guys. It always ended on a bad note. If I let you in, you have to promise not to take advantage. To be completely honest and true, as I intend to be with you. This is the only way this could work. Because in four days’ time, my world will be turned upside down, and I’ll need stability. Poise.”
I’d died? That was fucking news to me. Only not really, because I wouldn’t put it past Conrad to say anything that would make his daughter stop talking about me.
Ah. But that means that she did talk about you.
I clasped my hand over hers, using my free hand to produce something from my pocket.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I lied, knowing damn well I was not fulfilling my end of the bargain. That I wasn’t true. I would tell her who I was. But not now. Not yet. Not like this. When I was so close to losing her. And I couldn’t lose her.
Because deep down, I knew, Nicky was still there, scared of being rejected by the golden girl sitting at the piano, back ramrod straight, sneaking smiles at him when no one was looking.
I pried her hand open from my chest and pressed something into it. My apartment key. It was the closest thing she was going to get to my heart.
“I’ll hold you when you fall.”
She smiled, and my heart broke a little, because I knew in that moment that I was destined to lose her.
“I believe you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ARYA
Present
“Honey.” Jillian put her hand over mine that morning at work, when I told her about Christian giving me a key to his apartment and mentioned that oh, by the way, I’d also been sleeping with him throughout my father’s trial. You know, that old thang. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding offensive and brash, so let me just be both for a second—on a scale of one to ten for crazy, when one is completely normal and ten is Christopher Walken in an award-winning movie, you’re currently sitting at twelve. What were you thinking? The man is about to detonate your father’s bank account and take an entire hedge fund company down with him.” She leaned forward on my desk, reaching to check my temperature. I was grateful Whitley and Hailey weren’t at the office yet. Jillian and I were early birds.
“My father had it coming.” I clicked the pen in my hand rapidly, pulling away from her. “He sent dick pics to an intern and asked his former secretary if she’d blow him for a hundred grand. And fired Amanda for the great sin of not wanting to sleep with him. His bank account is the least of my concerns now.”
“Jesus, Daddy Conrad. I did not see that one coming.”
“Yeah. Neither did I.”
Jillian slid off my desk with a sigh, making her way to her seat. “All I’m saying is that you had a weird feeling when you met this guy, and your instincts have yet to fail you. I’m not defending your father’s actions. I’ve seen firsthand how you wanted to tear the skin from your own flesh when you found out about his wrongdoings. I’m just not sure starting a relationship with the man who is holding Conrad accountable is recommended. Or advisable. Or, you know, sane.”
The truth was, I wasn’t sure either. But Christian had made me feel what no other man had managed to in years, so it was worth a shot. I’d spent years refusing to get close to men.
Maybe it was time to put a little trust in someone.
I was lying atop Aaron’s grave when the final verdict came down. Curled into myself like a shrimp against the cold rock, my hair splayed like the roots of the weeping willow across the tombstone. Minutes before the text arrived, I’d been wondering, idly, what Aaron would be like if he were still alive.
I knew I’d inherited my mother’s personality—taciturn, indifferent, with a prudish air—but also my father’s voracious hunger for life. The need to sink my teeth into the universe like it was a juicy chunk of pomegranate, crimson beads trickling down my chin.
Would Aaron have been more of a dreamer or a realist? Would he have inherited Mother’s fine blonde hair or my father’s dark mane? Would we have ever double-dated? Shared secret handshakes? Or bittersweet memories of scraped knees and melting ice cream and cartwheels under sweltering summer sun . . .
Would my mother have been different? Happier? More present in my life? Would she have been able to stand up to my father?
And Nicky, would he still be here? After all, Aaron would have been the kind of protective brother who never would have let me coax Nicky into kissing me. Would Ruslana be here too?
A ping in my pocket snapped me out of my musings.
Dad: We lost. I’ve lost two hundred million dollars. Your boyfriend looks happy. I suppose now that it’s all over, he can buy you all the pretty things your heart desires. You always were a disappointment, Arya. But I never thought you were a traitor, too.
A scream lodged inside my throat. I swallowed it down, dialing my father’s number. He sent me straight to voice mail. I called him again. He deserved a piece of my mind. A third time. Then a fourth. Still nothing. I withdrew my phone from my ear, frowning.
A disappointment. A traitor.