Pictures of You

Chapter 66

66

Drew

Evie’s not remembering entirely wrong. She’s just not remembering her half of it. She never looked at me that way. The first time we did this, it barely got off the ground, because she realized it was a mistake and put a stop to it almost immediately.

The sliding door opens and Bree emerges with a second macchiato, caffeinating for a difficult conversation after a long night. She’s a mere two steps onto the deck when she clocks Evie looking even more disheveled than before—cheeks flushed, pulling at her pajama top—and she stops still. Evie faces up to her best friend’s experienced scrutiny and doesn’t have to say a word. Bree’s lips curl into a smile, which she hides behind her coffee mug, clearing her throat.

“And how are things going with you, Drew?” she asks, a glint in her eye.

How does it look, Breanna?

“Exploding head emoji, I think he said …” Evie responds.

“Having the time of my life,” I assure Bree sarcastically. “And you?”

She smiles. “Actually I am having the time of my life.” She puts her coffee mug down and gets a photo up on her phone to show us both.

“Who’s this?” Evie asks, admiring the professional headshot of a woman with a flawless bronze complexion and a thick mane of dark ringlets, brown eyes sparkling despite the serious smile.

“This is Ivy. She’s a cellist with the Chamber Orchestra.”

“ The Chamber Orchestra?” Evie asks. “The Australian one?”

Bree laughs. “Yes, but you’re missing the central point!”

“Is she your new best friend?” Evie is trying to get on board.

“EVIE. This is Ivy, my partner!”

As the realization dawns, Bree doesn’t get the reaction she was hoping for, because Evie just starts crying. Sobbing, actually. In fact, she absolutely loses it. “I’m sorry!” she cries, jumping up and throwing her arms around Bree. “I’m so sorry, Bree. I didn’t know. I am the worst friend!”

“You’ve got amnesia,” I remind her. “How could you know?”

“But how didn’t I know back then? In high school?”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Bree explains.

This sets off a fresh wave of tears. “Why not? Did you not trust me?”

“Evie, it’s fine. I hadn’t figured everything out back then.”

This placates her slightly. “But what about the white-shirt thing? You know, Mr. Darcy. Were you just pretending?”

Bree and I explode into laughter at this point.

“I’m queer, Evie, but I can still appreciate a man in a white shirt.”

“What was all that fuss about Tom Jenkins at school?”

“It wasn’t Tom I was interested in. It was Madeleine!”

“That French girl?”

“Mmm.” This time it’s both Bree and Drew reminiscing dreamily about her.

“So now I’m in love with a woman named Ivy. Madly. She’s currently on tour in New York, or you could have met her. She’s from Adelaide!”

“Drew is moving to New York,” Evie says, between sobs. I don’t pretend the tears are about me. She’s still mourning not being beside her best friend when she first came out.

“It’s a magazine job,” I explain to Bree, and Evie dissolves into silent tears this time. Maybe these are a little about me? She can’t possibly want me to reevaluate New York in the wake of one kiss, though. Can she? Would I?

“You should visit him, when you’re well,” Bree says in no-nonsense fashion. “You love New York.”

The tears stop. “I made it there?”

“Shit, sorry, Eves,” Bree says, backtracking. “I’m sure you’ll remember. Though you’ll probably have more fun next trip if you go with Drew instead of his brother. I know it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but …”

Oh, no. Stop.

“His brother?” Evie’s voice is a whisper.

Bree’s hand shoots to her mouth. She’s appalled by her gaff.

“What do you mean?” Evie backs away from us both. She’s dumbfounded. “Drew. What does she mean?” The slow and deliberate way she’s speaking is more terrifying than the sobbing.

“Oh, God,” Bree whispers, screwing up her face in remorse. “I’m so sorry.”

Evie has barely come to terms with the fact that she and I were friends. We just kissed . And now this bombshell, which I was planning on breaking to her gently.

“Evie, listen …”

Her eyes are like saucers. Filled with hurt.

“When you and I were going to the formal together,” I begin.

“You said we were never together!”

“We never really were …”

“Drew!”

“Just let me tell you this one thing, please.”

She sighs, pacing the deck like we’re caged here. I feel like we are.

“I was searching for a belt to wear to the dance and I found a photo with some old things of Mum’s. It was from when she was young, with a boyfriend.”

Trauma jolts to the surface like it happened yesterday. I can trace everything that happened to Mum back to that one moment when I forced her to face this truth. It’s why I’ve been so studiously avoiding lobbing any triggers at Evie all this time. I can’t hurt someone else I love like that.

All sensation leaves my limbs.

Someone I love. Still?

What else would keep me hooked for more than a decade, regardless of every relationship that has come and gone since. Why else am I even here, in Adelaide, pretending it’s about “off-loading” her, but soaking up every possible second? I swallow down the revelation and force the next words out.

“The man in the photo with Mum was my father. And he was the image of Oliver.”

Her mouth falls open. At least the shock has absorbed all the tears.

“I didn’t want it to be true. There had been no relationship at all. No birthday cards. No expressed desire to meet. I was an inconvenience—the evidence of a relationship that should never have happened.”

“You’re Oliver’s brother ?” Evie says, finding her voice again.

She can’t know how much I wish I wasn’t. And that I hadn’t kept this from her.

“This is why you were at the church? You said you shared history …”

“It’s … a complex situation.”

“You think ? My God, the things I’ve been thinking …”

What things?

We’re in the eye of a storm, everything whirling around us uncontrollably. Dangerously. “I need you to understand I couldn’t just launch every chapter of your past at you. We needed time … If I kept things back, it was always to protect you.”

“Every chapter? What else haven’t you told me, Drew? Bree?”

She is wild now. Furious. Crushed at how I’ve betrayed her, even if it was all for her own good.

“Seriously, what other family secrets are you hiding? Are you going to tell me I’ve got some kid stashed away somewhere, because I swear if I am a mother and you haven’t told me, and I’ve abandoned some child the way I’ve felt abandoned by all of you since I woke up in that hospital …”

Bree tries to rescue us. “Evie, stay calm. Take a breath, okay? You’ve never given birth.”

Evie falls back into the chair again, white as a sheet and shaking. “And Oliver and I never adopted, either?”

Bree shakes her head. “You didn’t adopt.”

“Bree, stop,” I say under my breath. Hiding the truth from Evie so far hasn’t worked. It’s only traumatized her even more to find out later that I lied. I’ve got nothing left to lose now—she needs to know everything. We have to tell her about Harriet.