Page 91 of The Ring
I get to the kitchen, and there’s Randal cleaning some plates and pans.
“Hey,” I tell him.
He glances at me and then continues what he’s doing. “Good afternoon, Mr Winthrop.”
I’m not sure if it was him or Laurie who dragged me. I think it was Laurie. He wasn’t at the party. But I think he saw me high.
“Is Cornelia, my brother, or Annabelle around?”
He moves a pan, and it makes a loud noise, making meflinch. My head feels a bit better, but still hurts a lot. I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose.
“Your brother left in the morning after speaking to Miss Pieret, and,” he looks at his watch, “since it’s already six in the afternoon, Miss Monroe and Miss Pieret went into town for lunch a few hours ago.” There’s judgment in his tone.
“Okay,” I say, not knowing what else to say.
“There’s a car outside waiting to take you back to Mr Bearnardet’s house.”
“Thank you,” I reply and make my way outside.
I enter Lucian’s house. It’s unusually silent, nothing like the noise from the day before. I figure they’re out, or most of them are nursing hangovers.
Lucian’s place is also beautiful—a house with ten bedrooms, three floors, a pool, and breathtaking views of the French Riviera. Though its contemporary architecture isn’t my favourite style. I prefer architectural styles with a lot of history and complexity.
I walk into the living room and find Laurie sitting on the sofa beside the bar cart, dressed in a plain white tee and grey joggers, a glass of what looks like bourbon in hand, staring outside. The doors to the terrace are open, and the curtains are pulled back, allowing the view to be appreciated from inside.
“Hey,” I say.
He notices me, though he seems lost in thought. “Hi.”
“Where is everyone?” I ask Laurie as I sit beside him.
“They all went to Monaco to enjoy the last day.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” I know my brother better than to think he stayed here to wait for me.
He shrugs. “I didn’t feel like it.”
“Is it because of Annabelle?” I ask him carefully.
He nods, gets up, and turns to the bar cart. He pours himself more bourbon, fills another glass, and hands it to me before sitting back down.
“Do you love her?” I wondered about it for a while, but looking at him now, I think I already know.
Laurie takes a big gulp from his glass. “It doesn’t matter. I already fucked it up really badly.”
He should tell Annabelle either way. But he won’t. I understand Laurie—he’s trying to preserve Camille’s memory. He’s the most loyal person I know. She’s no longer here, and still, he’s loyal. For some time, it didn’t seem difficult for him, but now that he’s found love again, it’s eating him alive. He’s battling between what he thinks is his duty and what he feels. But he’s just twenty years old, and he can’t stay single forever because of what happened.
“Do you still love Cornelia?” Laurie asks, trying to change the topic. I let him.
“The moment I stop will be the moment I’m dead.” And whatever comes after this life, I am sure I will still love her there.
I drink from my glass. Bourbon isn’t exactly the best thing to cure a hangover, but it’s needed for this type of conversation.
“I know you don’t like to talk about what happened, but if you ever want the opportunity to get her back, something has to change,” he tells me.
I sigh. “I don’t think that’s even in the realm of possibilities anymore.” After all, the reason I got high last night was that she’s moving on. And I’m frozen, loving her, and I will always be.
Yet, I can’t help thinking about the note in my pocket and the kiss. At this point, I’m pretty sure kissing Cornelia was a dream.
