Page 41 of The Ring
“I better make it an hour,” Laurie says, and I swear I can hear him stifling a laugh.
The little arsehole is really enjoying this.
Nate walks away from the door, visibly frustrated,muttering something under his breath. I can tell he’s cursing Laurie, but I can’t quite make out the words.
“It isn’t funny, Laurie,” I tell my brother.
“On the contrary, I’m quite enjoying myself.”
Before I can say anything, I hear Laurie walking away. Nate hears it too, because in no time he’s at the door, banging on it again.
“Come back this instant, Laurie!” he shouts. But it’s no use—by now, Laurie is probably long gone.
I look at him. “I’m guessing you also don’t have your phone?”
He shakes his head.
A weekend without phones sounded like a good idea—until now. And even if we had them, there’s no point; this room barely gets any signal.
I walk to the bookshelf, pick up another book, and lie down on the couch. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable. Sooner or later, someone who isn’t Laurie will come and let us out.”
Nate follows my lead and grabs a book, settling into the armchair across from me.
The book I picked up is about the War of the Roses. I read a little, but I quickly get bored. I already know most of what’s in it. Cornelia went through a phase after watchingThe Tudorswhere she became obsessed with their history—learning everything about the Lancasters, the Yorks, Mary Queen of Scots, and anyone even remotely related to them. And, as a consequence, so did I.
I look up from the book and watch Nate. He doesn’t seem too into whatever he’s reading, either. I try to refocus on my own, but no matter how hard I try, I keep forgetting what I just read. My mind keeps drifting—maybe Laurie wasn’t so off the markafter all.
He’s an arsehole for locking us in here, but maybe he’s not wrong—we probably do need to talk. I don’t want to, but if we don’t, I’m looking at a lifetime of awkward family reunions. And I’m starting to get a little worried about how long Laurie might actually keep us locked in. Knowing my brother, he’ll stick to his word and leave us here until we sort things out.
Our only other hope is that someone else stumbles into the library and lets us out. This isn’t exactly one of the most frequented rooms in the house. That could take hours. Days, if most of the guests have left already.
I think I should be the mature one. I do owe Nate an apology. I don’t know much about what happened between him and Cornelia, other than that it happened. And I’m not sure I want to know more. The thought of her with anyone else repulses me, but I don’t believe he intended to hurt me. I, on the other hand, brought Amelie with the purpose of hurting him, and I did it with malice.
Still… he slept with my girlfriend.
He should be the one to apologise first.
But—fuck it.
I fake cough to get Nate’s attention. He doesn’t look up from his book—he’s faking it, pretending I don’t have his attention. But I know I do.
“I’m sorry,” I say, which gets him to look up. “I shouldn’t have brought Amelie to the party.”
I’d say that’s the only thing I’m going to apologise for because punching him was well deserved.
He looks taken aback, like he didn’t expect me to apologise first—or at all.
“I’m sorry too… about all of it,” he says, pausing as if the words weigh heavily on him. “I shouldn’t have kissed her at West’s club or slept with her. I…” He looks away from me. “I took advantage of her. She was hurting after what happened between you two, and instead of helping her, I used it to justify what I did.”
I can see he’s being sincere, and what’s really eating at him isn’t what he did—it’s that he did it when she was vulnerable. That’s what weighs heaviest on him.
“You’re in love with her,” I say, not as a question but as a statement. After everything Amelie said and now this, I have no doubts.
He turns back to look at me. “It’s hard not to be,” he admits. A small smile forms on his lips as if he’s thinking of her.
Truer words have never been spoken.
“How long have you been in love with her?”
