The Lie(85)

I swallow and try to keep my face from flinching, but from the way Lachlan’s eyes narrow imperceptibly I know he sees right through me.

“Is that so?” I whisper.

“She said he was writing a book. Was a professor of film studies. I thought it the strangest coincidence at the time. But I never thought it was you. Not until I walked in that door over there and saw her beside you. And then it all fell into place.”

He’s got me. Completely.

I lick my lips. “Do you think she remembers you?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But she was pretty drunk. She went home in a cab that night.”

“What was the advice you gave her?”

He gives me a ghost of a smile. “I told her to be a catalyst for change.”

Catalyst for change.

That’s what Natasha wrote in her drunken email to me, the email that opened the gates, that led to that first kiss, the first confessions, the first everythings.

Bloody fucking hell. That all happened because of Lachlan.

“So was she?” he asks. “A catalyst for change? Is that what happened? You had an affair with her.”

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I didn’t expect to be talking about this with my brother, not this way and not yet. “I didn’t have an affair with her. Not a physical one.”

“And you told Miranda. That’s what you argued about the night she died.”

I exhale heavily and meet his eyes. “Yes. That’s what it was about. Don’t you see? It wasn’t just an argument. I was trying to end my marriage. And if I hadn’t done that, she would still be alive.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he says, his tone surprisingly sharp. “Don’t try and wallow in that again. You’ve done enough of it. You don’t let me sink into my mistakes and I’m not going to let you sink into yours. I’ve said you looked haunted by what you’ve done. Well, guess what. You don’t look haunted now. You look like you’re bloody in love. Let the wallowing go—it’s comforting to hold on to the darkness, I know this. It gives you identity. It gives you purpose. But you’re finally getting out of it. Allow yourself to be happy.”

I look away and he puts his hand on my shoulder, staring at me. “Hey,” he says louder. “I’m not kidding. Did you think I wouldn’t understand, that I would judge you, that I would want to push you back into that spot we’ve all been dying for you to come out of? Fuck that. I’m your family, Brigs. I don’t care if you and Natasha have known each other for years or days. I just want you to be happy. That’s all anyone ever wants for you, and it’s what you should want for yourself too.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Kayla asks, coming around the corner. When she sees his hand on my shoulder and the grave looks on our faces, she stops. “I’m totally interrupting something, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine, love,” Lachlan says, putting his arm out for her. She comes over and leans against him, staring up at me. “Brigs and I were just talking about women.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Then we definitely weren’t talking about you,” he jokes.

“Hey,” she says, going for his chest with her pointy fingers and squeezing his nipple.

Lachlan buckles over, letting out what sounds like a giggle and a squeal, a sound I’ve never heard him emit before. Had I known all along nipple pinching was his kryptonite, I could have made some money selling this information to opposing teams.

“Anyway,” Kayla says, finally letting Lachlan go. “I just wanted to tell you that Natasha is fucking amazing.”

“Well, good. I think so too.”

“No, I mean it,” she says. “I hate to say this, but I’m starting to look at you like my brother now. Weirdly secretive and strange, but still my brother, and before I met her I had some reservations. I mean, what girl is going to be good enough for you?” She elbows Lachlan. “Right, baby?”

He grunts in response and she continues, “But now I’m starting to think that maybe you’re not good enough for her.”

“Kayla,” Lachlan warns her.

She smiles at me. “I’m just kidding, Brigs. But really. You’ve done good. And I mean it. Because I hate everyone.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” I say caustically.

“It’s true. My only complaint is that the two of you are in London and I am up here. Doesn’t make for easy girl times. Like when Lachlan acts like a jerk and I need a friend to braid my hair while I eat a tub of ice cream.”

“Yeah, that sure sounds like Lachlan.” I give him a look and roll my eyes.