Page 78 of Love and Lies

Not yet. Not by a long shot.

With that thought, life returned to my body, my spirit. My board called out to me, and I tugged hard on the leash at my ankle. I followed the line, broke the water’s surface, took a lifesaving breath, pushed my hair out of my eyes. I dragged my board toward me on the leash—but of the two of us, it had come off worse: only half of it was left. The wave must have snapped it clean in two. It was one of my favorite boards, the only one I’d brought with me back from Australia, and it hurt to see it destroyed. Still, it had been worth it.

With my last ounce of strength I swam back, made it to shore, dragged myself out of the surf. Every single one of my muscles ached, and I let out a groan as I dropped to my knees on the ice-cold sand. My heart was pounding frantically to pump my body with oxygen, my chest rising and falling heavily, pain stabbing my lungs—I could hardly breathe. But I felt freer than I had in a long time. More alive than ever. All the accusations, the longing, the despair, the fear of never finding anything like happiness—everything was silenced. All that remained was the quiet, and with it came a peace that I might not have earned, but that I desperately needed if I was going to carry on.

Breathing heavily, I turned onto my back and looked up to the sky, where I couldn’t see a single star. I didn’t have the breath to scream it into the wind, but it was enough to say the words softly. I raised my hand and lifted my middle finger to the pitch-black darkness.

“Fuck you,” I panted grimly.

For today, I had won, and I’d be rewarded with at least half an hour of calm before it all came back. Because, as soon as I was able, I was going to get up, go to my pickup, drive home, and carry on. Keep on carrying on with this life that I didn’t want.

Without Helena.

35 Helena

I had no idea how I managed to actually make it back to the table where Edward was waiting for me, but it must have been my Weston genes. They were what stopped me from telling him, directly and unequivocally, that I wanted to go home—or simply socking it to him every time he made some stupid remark. They held me back, too, from making it clear to him that I would be taking a cab home alone, or from going over to Jess’s table to tell him that I wanted him, and no one else, my family’s rules be damned. But when Edward dropped me off at my door, and I crossed the foyer to the elevator, I suddenly felt so empty and sad, as if the evening had sucked every spark of life out of my body.

I was already bracing myself on the way up for my parents’ questions—I might have survived the dinner, but I was still home early. But it was dark when I reached the apartment; nobody was home. My parents had obviously gone out without telling me.

I stood in the hall for several moments, trying to get my emotions under control. The disappointment, the anger, the loneliness. I had wanted to come back to New York so I wasn’t so cut off from everything anymore. But here, now, I felt more alone than ever.

For one crazy moment I thought about getting in a taxi and driving to the West Village, to Jess. But right away I knew that was completely out of the question. No matter how we felt about each other, and what might have come of it, it was impossible. I’d known it the whole time, but only really understood it today. It might have worked if we’d given everything up, absolutely everything. But neither of us was built for that. We couldn’t abandon the people who meant something to us.

I climbed the stairs in darkness, took off my fancy clothes and threw on my pajamas, went to the bathroom to take off my makeup, and crawled into bed. It was only just after ten, but I had no energy to reply to birthday messages or even watch TV. I felt paralyzed, totally numbed out by the realization that my life didn’t belong to me anymore. At the hotel my hand had been forced, but today I’d walked away from Jess all on my own. And it felt so final I couldn’t breathe.

My throat closed up when I thought about us together in that storage room, about our words and his sad smile. And about what he’d whispered to me before he’d left.

Happy birthday, Fair Helen. Perhaps the stars will align for us in another life.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said softly. Then I turned out the light, curled into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning my eyelids felt heavy as lead, and I wondered if I could fake an illness and stay in bed, at least just for today. My first class was in an hour, but I hadn’t been the most diligent student since I’d gotten back, and I didn’t really care whether I made it or not.

My phone lay next to me on the blanket, showing several new messages. A lot of them birthday wishes from people in Cambridge, or various relatives. But one message in particular caught my eye—it was from Malia. I wasn’t expecting her to reach out so soon after our conversation yesterday.

I opened the chat and held my breath as I read what she’d written.

I checked Val’s financial records. I had to dig around a bit, but there was a debit. 10k three days before she died. Funnily enough, before that there was a wire transfer into her account for the exact same amount.

A wire transfer? From who? I texted back, hoping she’d respond quickly, even though her message had arrived close to midnight. But as luck would have it she was online, and started typing.

Lincoln’s personal account. You should ask him what she was planning to do with it.

My brother had wired Valerie the money? I wondered why he would need to do that. My sister earned enough from her brand collabs to be able to withdraw ten thousand dollars without having to get help from Lincoln. Didn’t she?

Any idea why he gave it to her? She had enough money of her own.

Yeah, but in other accounts. If you ask me, she wanted to stay under the radar. I only found this account because I remembered she told me about it once. It was for emergencies.

An emergency account. I furrowed my brow; I’d never heard anything about it.

Sorry I was so horrible yesterday, Malia continued. I had a shitty day and you caught me at the wrong moment.

Relief washed over me.

I know the feeling. And I’m sorry too. I know you’d tell me the truth about Valerie. Thank you for your help, Malia.

Her reply was swift.