Page 78 of The Lies I Told
He set the picture on the empty banquet table. “You need to let this go.”
“So I keep telling myself. But I can’t. Maybe if we ever find out who did this to her, I will.”
“What good will knowing do? She’ll still be dead.”
“At least her killer won’t be running around free.” The idea that a person could have taken Clare’s life and then gotten on with their own life was intolerable.
“Who says he’s free? Whoever did something like that has got to have demons.” His scowl deepened.
“That’s very specific.”
He raised a brow, shook his head. “It’s common sense.”
“Is it?”
“Maybe I listen to too many crime podcasts.” The muscles in his face had tightened and deepened the lines in his forehead.
“Are you okay?”
“I miss her, too. I liked her a lot.”
“The nice twin. The gentler one.”
“I always liked your grit,” he said.
“Brit thinks I’m nuts. Again,” I said.
“Great attorney, but she doesn’t know everything,” he said. “Did you ever tell Brit about what we did the night Clare died?”
Us. The one-night stand, laced with revenge sex aimed at my sister, had remained my secret. And after Clare died, it seemed trivial. “No.”
“I thought you had. She broke up with me right after Clare died. Brit never brought your name up when she cut me loose. But I figured if she knew, her pride wouldn’t let on. Brit needs control.”
“I never told her. We were all shell-shocked after Clare. I don’t think either of us has sustained a relationship since.”
“It wasn’t a genius move on my part.”
“Maybe it’s a stupid question to ask, but why me? I thought you and Brit were happy?”
“We’d drifted apart. The long-distance thing between us was getting old.” A ghost of a smile tugged his lips. “And I always thought you were—and still are—hot.”
“Thanks?”
He chuckled. “Don’t tell Jo-Jo.”
I nodded. “Are you coming to my opening?”
“No. I’ve got to be at the other restaurant, and I’m checking in on the construction of our new restaurant location. But you’ll have my top staff here.”
“To handle the hordes of people?” I almost hoped no one showed. I’d had to talk myself into this and would’ve talked myself out if quitting weren’t equal to losing face.
“Either way, you’ll do great. I bet you make a sale.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
He held out his hand. “I’m willing to put a dollar on the table.”
I accepted his hand, grateful whatever moody vibe I’d just gotten from him had gone away. He was back to being Jack, my friend. “It’s a deal. If I sell a painting, I’ll pay you a dollar.”
