“I’m sorry I lied to you. There’s a lot more to the story. I understand if you hate me. I deserve it. But you have to know that there were so many times I wanted to tell you. Remember the slutty video? When Dawson and I broke up? I was taking him to meet my parents that weekend. I was going to tell him the truth. That's why I was so upset. I was more upset at myself for trusting the wrong person again than I was about us not dating. And that's why, after what happened with Chelsea, I forgave you but wouldn't see you. I couldn't lie to you anymore. I was in deep with you, and I knew that eventually I'd have to tell you, and that you'd hate me for lying. But then you brought me dirt and told me our pasts didn't matter.”
Tears stream down my face, feeling cold against my flushed cheeks. “You have no idea how deeply that touched me. And it’s why I let you come to St. Croix. I wasn’t planning to go back to school. I didn't get closure with B. Everything with him—especially how I had to leave—has been so up the air and I didn't want to do that to you. I was going to give you closure, then send you back to school. And that's why I've been so tired all the time. At night, I’m either learning how to defend myself, or I'm flying back to California to mess with him, or I’m having online business meetings in an attempt to take over his company. It’s not my friend who was being stalked and almost got kidnapped. It was me.” I stop and mutter, “Shit.”
Then I stand up and grab my clutch off the bed.
“What are you doing?” Aiden asks.
I pull out a piece of paper and hold it up in front of him. “This is the script I’ve been working on. In it, instead of truth-vomiting, I eloquently explain everything to you. I couldn’t have sex with you until you knew.”
I drop the piece of paper on the chaise, wondering why I’m even bothering.
He’s not going to forgive me.
I might as well just grab my bags and go.
But he starts reading my script aloud.
“THE SETTING: HOTEL SUITE AFTER WINTER FORMAL.
AIDEN
(Opening a bottle of champagne)
KEATYN
(Lighting all the votive candles he thoughtfully brought)
(They kiss)
(But then she looks nervous)
I need to tell you something.
AIDEN
(Sits on the edge of the bed)
What?
KEATYN
(Stands in front of him)
I’ve been lying to you. Actually, I’ve been lying to everyone about something. And I need you to know.
AIDEN
(Looks concerned)
Okay.
KEATYN
I came to Eastbrooke because I was being stalked. My last name isn’t Monroe. I’m Keatyn Douglas. And my mom doesn’t work in oil and gas. But she is in France. And her name is Abby Johnston.
AIDEN
(Stands up in shock)”
Aiden stares at the script for a few moments then slowly sets it down. I can tell he’s thinking; probably trying to figure out the nicest way to tell me to fuck off.
Instead, he stands up, takes two big steps toward me, and brushes a tear off my cheek. “Life hasn't been following your scripts. You told me that once.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“If it had worked out the way you planned—if you’d followed your script—right now is the point where life would have deviated from it.”
“You wouldn't have stood up in shock?”
“No,” he says, caressing my face. “I would have said, Baby, I already knew."
“You what?! What do you mean?!”
“I mean I've known for quite a while who you really are.”
“How?!”
“That day at the chapel, when you told me about your friend. I don't know. I just felt like you were talking about yourself. So I started googling stuff. The name Keatyn, California, stalker, famous parents. Somehow, eventually, I put in the right mix of words. About ten pages into an image search, I came across a photo of you and your mom. It was from a kids’ awards show when you were probably twelve or thirteen.”
“You've known this whole time and you let me lie to you?”
“Yeah, Boots, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to be the kind of guy you could trust. It’s why I backed off. Why I told Riley about Dawson. I didn't want to see you hurt anymore. It's why I've told you so many times that you can tell me anything. That you could trust me. What I didn’t realize before was that I needed to earn that trust. We had to build a strong foundation. I’m really glad you were planning to tell me tonight.”
“But when you put your hand up and told me not to follow, I thought we were over, that you hated me.”
“I could never hate you. I could tell by the look on Peyton’s face that something was really wrong. I held up my hand to let you know that I’d take care of it. That you didn’t need to come. I figured it was just some stupid mean girl thing between her and Whitney. I had no idea it would be so . . . involved. Or take so long.” He takes my hands and pulls me back to sit on the chaise with him. His face looks similar to the way it did when he walked out. Apparently, this is his concerned look, not his I hate you look. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me hate you. You need to have faith in us. We’re going to survive the kiln.”
“I was coming to find you. You made me promise that I always would.”
He smiles at me. It’s a sweet, loving, blazing smile. One that turns my whole night around.
“You told me that didn’t count.”
“I lied,” I say, teasing him.