Page 38 of The Ring
I go to the sink beside her. “Hi,” I say while beginning to wash my hands.
“Hi,” she replies, barely looking at me.
I turn on the sink faucet and pump soap into my hands—one, two, three, four times—and begin washing them. I repeat it one, two, three times. She side-eyes, but then returns to look at her reflection. I do it one more time. Then I splash some water on the faucet so it’s clean when I touch it, turn the water off, dry my hands, and turn to look at her. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.” That gets her attention, and she turns to look at me fully, though her expression is indifferent. “You’ve probably seen the tabloids by now, and… I wanted to let you know nothing happened between Nate and me while you were together.”
For all the things they wrote, they left out one of the most important ones.
“Hasn’t there always been something between you two?” Amelie says, her voice sharp with anger. “There were always three people in our relationship.”
I look at her, confused. “What?”
Is she implying I had an affair withNate?
“Don’t play dumb,” she says, irritated.
“I’m not playing anything.”
She lets out a bitter chuckle. “You don’t know.” She shakes her head. “Of course you don’t know. It must be really nice to be you.”
I ignore the part about how it must be nice being me because any answer would make me sound like an arsehole. If I say no, I sound like a pretentious girl who doesn’t value the privileges she has; if I say yes, I sound like an arrogant bragger. The truthful answer issometimes, but if I say that, I sound like I can’t choose between the first two.
I frown. “Know what?”
“That Nate has been in love with you since you were kids.” Amelie sighs. “I guess I can’t blame you for that. I did get into a relationship with him knowing he was in love with you.” She turns to look at herself in the mirror. “I willed myself to believe he’d forgotten you and fallen in love with me, but it didn’t happen.” She pauses, and I recognise that pause all too well. It’s the kind you take when you’re trying to hold back, struggling to pull yourself together. I get it—we know each other, but not well enough to cry in front of each other.
“And when you and TJ broke up, I felt Nate slipping further and further away, and I knew exactly why,” she continues, her voice shaking. “I… I just couldn’t stay with him, waiting for the day he would leave me for you.”
I feel bad for her—unrequited love is a horrible thing. I want to say something, anything, to console her, but I don’t really know what to say.
I’m gobsmacked. While I considered the fact that what happened between us meant more to him, I never thought he was in love with me. Now I’m replaying every interaction we had in my mind to see if there were signals I didn’t notice or if, in some way, I enabled those feelings.
Chapter 20
Cornelia
Iwas feeling really confused, not knowing what to make of my conversation with Amelie.
Afterwards, I grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass and went to my favourite balcony in my grandmother’s house to think. It has amazing views—you can see all the land from here—but I prefer it in the morning, when you can see the trees and the skyline more clearly.
I sit on the railing, my legs dangling in the air. The balcony is a slight drop from the ground floor; it’s not that high—just a few feet from the actual ground. It’s not the kind of height that would be fatal if you fell. Both West and TJ have jumped from here at different times to avoid walking around the stairs, but I’m not interested in joining that club.
I hear footsteps approaching, and I can tell it’s a woman from the distinct sound of heels clicking against the ground. I already know who it is. There are only a few people who would venture to this part of the estate alone, and even fewer who would wear heels while doing so.
“Hiding from people?” Annabelle asks. I turn slightly to seeher standing in the doorway, wearing a beautiful pink dress with a fitted corset.
I smile. “Perhaps.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
I love her for it because I know if I say yes, she wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want her to.
“You’re not people; you’re my best friend,” I tell her.
Annabelle smiles, walks over to where I am, and climbs up onto the railing to sit beside me. She takes the glass of wine beside me, takes a sip, and then places it on her other side.
“I saw that TJ brought Amelie as his date,” she says softly. “Quel connard.”What an arsehole.
I chuckle a bit.
