“I thought . . . I don’t understand,” she whispered between sobs. “I saw the picture.”
Peripherally, she saw him nod. “She was at that party. And yeah, as the photographers started clickin’, she leaned over and kissed me. But I didn’t kiss her back. I held her at arm’s length all weekend, while still tryin’ to act convincingly like we were together for my mother’s benefit.”
“No,” she mewled, because the far-reaching ramifications of his words, if they were true, meant that she’d willfully destroyed their chance at happiness, and she could hardly breathe under the weight of what she’d thrown away. “No, Erik.”
“Yes, Laire,” he said, steel in his voice, waiting to continue until she looked up at him through tears. “I was never with her. Never, darlin’. There was only you for me.”
He leaned back into the couch and sighed, long and hard, his gray breath disappearing into the night sky. And she watched him, scanned his face and observed his body language, and all of it told her the same thing: he was telling her the truth.
“You were never with her?”
He shook his head against the back of the couch, then looked over at her, finding her eyes with his. “Never.”
She looked away from him quickly, remembering Thanksgiving night at Utopia Manor—the engagement ring, the way he had his arm around Vanessa. Could it have all been an act for his mother’s benefit?
“I heard you gave her a ring at some point.”
He shook his head again. “Nope.”
She blinked, her brows furrowing with confusion. Then what exactly had she seen that night?
Suddenly he shifted, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. She watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear, turning to nail her with his eyes as he spoke.
“Hills? Yeah. It’s me. No, no. Listen, I need you to do somethin’ for me. I’m goin’ to put someone on the phone. She’s goin’ to ask you some questions. Just answer them honestly, okay? It doesn’t matter who it is. I need you to do this for me. Honest answers. No matter what. Okay?” He pulled the phone from his ear and held it out to Laire. “This is my sister. She’s my closest friend in the world. Ask her anythin’.”
“No, Erik. I don’t need to—”
“Yeah, Laire,” he said, still holding the phone out to her. “You do.”
Gulping, she reached for the phone, taking it in her hands, feeling the warmth from his body stored in the metal. Staring at him desperately, she held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi. This is Hillary. Who’s this?” Her voice was cultured but warm, and a little concerned.
“L-Laire,” she said. “My name is Laire.”
There was a sharp gasp and then a long pause before she heard Hillary say, “Oh, my God.”
She reached up and covered the speaker with her hand. “She knows me?”
Erik nodded. “She was the only one I ever told.”
“You have, uh, some questions for me?” asked Hillary in her posh Southern accent.
Removing her hand, Laire asked, “Was Erik ever engaged to Vanessa Osborn?”
“What? To Van?” asked Hillary. “No! Never! Oh, my God, no.”
“I heard . . . I mean, I heard that they were—”
“Oh, honey,” said Hillary, “it certainly hasn’t been for lack of Van tryin’. But no. She never got her hooks into Erik. Not like that.”
“You . . .,” she started, then stopped. “You know who I am?”
“Yeah,” said Hillary. “He told me about you. You’re the girl from the island who he was in love with.”
Was.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
Was. What a horrible word.
“Um,” she said, her voice breaking a little. “Was he . . . was he with anyone else the summer he was with me?”
“Honey,” said Hillary, “he’s barely been with anyone since you.”
“But—”
“No,” said Erik’s sister definitively. “He was only with you.”
Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. What have I done? What a mess. What a terrible mess.
“Okay,” she sobbed. “Thanks, Hillary.”
“Laire!”
She hadn’t handed the phone back to Erik yet, so she put it back against her ear. “Mm-hm?”
“You gutted him.”
“S-sorry?”
“You should be,” said Hillary softly, her voice level and even, direct without being threatening. “Don’t hurt him again. I mean it.”
“I won’t,” she managed to promise, handing the phone back to Erik and dropping her forehead to her knees as she wept.
***
Erik took the phone from her hands, pressing it to his ear. “Hills?”
“What the hell is goin’ on down there, Erik?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Erik! She is not good for you!”
“Hillary, thank you for talkin’ to her, but I need to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”