The Lie

“I told you. We stay vague. I met you years ago when you were working the short film festival in Edinburgh. That first day we met? That’s all true. That’s what we keep as our truth.”

“And then what?” she says, breaking away and walking to the window. “I…” She exhales heavily and looks down at her hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Brigs. This is just the beginning now. But in a few years? Then what? The truth—the whole truth—will come out.”

“Then we’ll deal with it then,” I tell her. “They don’t need to know everything, and certainly not all at once.”

She glances at me, worried. “You’re afraid to tell them. Why?”

“Because,” I tell her.

“You’re ashamed,” she says softly.

“No. Not of you. Not of this. Just…” I throw my hands out to the side. “You know how complicated this all is.”

“But your family is lovely, you said yourself. Your brother sounds like he has more issues than Charlie Sheen. Don’t you think they would all understand the truth? They wouldn’t blame you. It might even explain a lot to them.”

I rub my hand up and down my face in frustration. “When the time is right. This…I just want them to see you the way I see you. The way everyone should.”

“You mean not as the other woman.”

“You know what I mean,” I tell her quickly, coming over to her and taking her hand. “There is no other woman. There never was. It was only you. And I want them to see only you. Please. Just this once. We’ll figure out the future later.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I kiss the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

“I just hate lying. I could tell Melissa didn’t believe me when I told her I was going away.”

I stiffen. It’s suddenly hard to swallow.

“What?” I manage to get out.

She shrugs. “Well, I can’t tell her I’m going off with you. Like I told you before, she’s protective and she doesn’t like you. So I said I was going up to Glasgow with imaginary Bradley. Imaginary Bradley sure is getting a lot of action these days.” She glances at me. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, blinking. “Yes, sorry. I can imagine lying isn’t easy. Why can’t you tell her the truth again?”

“I guess because of the same reason you don’t want to tell your family. I don’t think she’d understand. And she wouldn’t believe any of it. She holds a grudge against you like you wouldn’t believe, and that grudge goes against me too.”

“I believe it,” I tell her, wondering if now is the moment. But then again, what do I say? Hey, by the way, your best friend has also been both hitting on me and threatening me in her spare time?

“Maybe she’ll be more understanding than you think,” I say. “She knows we’re both adults here.”

She shakes her head, wincing. “She’s a weird one. She doesn’t work like that. I’m afraid it would do more harm than good.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Is it time to get the train?”

I nod. “We better get out of here before Winter comes back and loses his mind. My shoes won’t stand a chance.”

***

The train up to Edinburgh is long but I’ve never minded it. There’s something inherently romantic about watching the landscape fly past you. Your mind goes with it, latching on to new thoughts with the new sights. It’s an idea generator, a brainstormer, a place to let your thoughts fly away. In some ways it’s even better than the Aston Martin (which bit the dust again after our escape to Botany Bay, hence the train ride), because now I can relax and watch the world go by.

I especially don’t mind it now with Natasha at my side. Our seats are in first class and the car is relatively empty. We’re able to sit beside each other, her hand in mine, my fingertips tracing circles over her skin. We kiss and laugh and share coy smiles, and it’s like we’re finally free to just be us.

It feels good to be home too. London is growing on me, but Edinburgh will always be home, my true love, no matter how many bad memories are locked here. Stepping off the train at Waverly Station and hearing the Scottish accent everywhere makes me feel like another weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

That said, when we call for a cab to take us to my parents’ house, a few jitters sneak back in my heart.

It does feel wrong to have to hide the truth from my family. And I won’t lie if it comes down to it. But I want Natasha to be judged for who she is and not her past. My parents are as accepting as they come, as are Lachlan and Kayla, but even then if they knew who she really was to me, they’d look at her differently.