Page 69 of Threaded Lies

“Not a problem at all.”

“Simon.” I pause before I ask what I want to ask. “How come this isn’t all over the news? How come it isn’t a much bigger deal, or why isn’t there a larger police presence?”

His smile is melancholy when he offers it to me. “Because it’s Fairmont.”

Those three words stick with me long after I drive down the town’s pothole-ridden street, past vacant, graffiti-riddled buildings, and beyond its city limits where I feel I can breathe a little easier.

And I hate that once I cross the river, I do just that—breathe easier. But I do and it bugs me, so I find myself driving aimlessly. Through the adjacent town. Over to Westmore where I belong, but I keep driving till I’m in the city of North Hampton and am looking at the neon-blue letters of the diner’s sign.

I don’t know how I ended up here or why I’m sitting in my car under a gloomy, gray sky, staring out of my dirty windshield at a diner I really only have two connections to.

My siblings. How, when I was at boarding school, Cassie and Rhett would frequent here after football games. I rarely came here myself, but somehow, every time I see this place, I think of the sister I never got the chance to know as an adult, and the brother I did, but sometimes wish were different.

And Holden. The first time we slept together happened after we sat here, shared a milkshake, and talked about anything other than work. It was the first time Holden Knight’s impervious mask dropped a bit and he let me in.

It’s the bright orange butterfly that catches my attention. The sun isn’t out, there is none of its warmth for the insect to enjoy, but it’s still out, still flitting around my windshield and just outside my driver’s-side window.

Cassie.

The thought makes me smile. I feel silly and hopeful for thinking it, but at the same time, the type of silly and hopeful that this is my twin’s attempt to let me know she’s still there somehow. That she’s around.

The first tear drips over and for the first time in the longest of times, I let it fall without immediately brushing it away.

There is no one here to think I’m weak for missing her. There’s no one who will tell me how wonderful she was and how she would have been the perfect Rothschild for society.

It’s just me sitting in silence, thinking of my twin who will forever be seventeen years old as I sit in front of a place I’m pretty sure she helped raise hell in.

I miss her.

I don’t think I realized just how much until this moment. Were we different in every aspect? Yes. Most definitely. But I could always confide in her. I knew she’d listen without judgment and appreciate me for being uniquely me.

She’d probably tell me I was out of my ever-loving mind agreeing to marry Chad so that I could secure Gran’s inheritance sooner to try to gain some power back.

“Jesus,” I mutter. Just thinking that makes me realize how crazy it sounds.

The butterfly continues to dip and weave and dance outside my windows.

“I see you, Cass. I miss you so damn much.” The wave of sadness hits hard. Her laugh is fading. I have to watch old videos to remember its sound.

I miss the way in middle school she’d dive-bomb into my bed so we could spill secrets on what boys we were crushing on. Then later, when I was away at high school, how we’d talk for hours on the phone so she could tell me what trouble she was causing at the country club and I could bore her with all-girls-school antics.

I can’t remember the last time I went to visit her grave and sat there under the huge weeping willow talking to her.

“None of this would be happening if you were still here,” I say as the butterfly flutters away and the taste of salt from my tears hits my lips. “Miss you.”

I don’t know how long I sit there. Cars come and go. Customers walk in and out. I imagine what Cassie would look like now if she were to be one of the customers.

My laugh is loud and ridiculous sounding. Of course I know what she’d look like—like me. I mean, her haircut and the way she just oozed Southern style, whereas I’m more New York chic.

Would she have kids now? Be the chair of the Women’s League? Hold Sunday dinners for our family to attend that were actually fun instead of feeling like a root canal? Cassie just made everyone better—me included.

I wipe the tears from under my eyes and blow out a long, exasperated breath. How funny I came here of all places to think of Cass.

Work calls. Being the dutiful daughter calls. Being an enthusiastic bride-to-be calls.

I start my car and glance both ways before I pull out of my spot. A dark SUV on the far side of the lot catches my attention and I hesitate on my brake pedal.

It’s Holden.