CHAPTER 30
ELLEN
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
"Don't focus on anything, don't worry about anything. Let your thoughts come and go," whispered a hot British voice in Ellen's ears. She rolled her eyes at that sentence.
You're telling me to let words in, so how can I possibly think about nothing? Ellen snapped at the voice. She blinked, and there was Taylor, propped against the doorframe, a playful smirk on her face as she watched her. "Creepy twin. For how much time have you been staring at me?"
"Only five minutes? Or ten minutes? No more than that," Taylor replied, joining her on her bed. "I see that mindfulness meditation is working wonders for you."
"My ADHD brain will probably never grasp the whole concept," she said with feigned enthusiasm. She knew why Taylor had just sat down, and she wanted to delay this conversation for as long as possible.
"So…" Taylor said.
"So…" Ellen echoed.
"How are you holding up, Twinie? Remember, you can cancel the whole thing if you don't feel up to it. Don't feel like you owe her anything."
"I know," Ellen said. "Still, I think I owe this to myself. I need to have these answers to move on."
"Nothing is more crucial than that. You'll know for sure in two hours. Jessie and I will be there for you no matter what. Twinie, I love you more than words can say." Taylor enveloped her in a strong, tight hug. "What are you planning to wear?"
Ellen's nod directed her gaze to the chair in the corner, revealing a black kit that had been carefully prepared.
"Completely black? Taylor asked. "That won't work, my dear Twinie. First off, it's not a funeral, and second, you gotta show her what she's missing. Gimme a sec."
Taylor went into Ellen's walk-in wardrobe. After three minutes, she reappeared, holding a pair of tight jeans, a stunning burgundy top that perfectly complemented Ellen's physique, and a headband to sweep Ellen's hair back. "This. You'll be drop-dead gorgeous. She's gonna be sorry for her loss."
Protesting crossed Ellen's mind, but she lacked the will. She did what Taylor told her to do, and with a sigh, realized Taylor was right. She looked sexy in this outfit.
Jess stepped into the room, phone dangling from her hand. "Sorry, I was on the phone with Andrea and Mary. They are taking a flight tomorrow to come here." She stopped and looked between the twins and then saw Ellen's face. "I take it tonight's still happening," she said quietly.
Ellen nodded, and Taylor straightened. "Oh yeah, that's right. We forgot to tell you. We're coming with you."
Ellen's head jerked up. "You don't have to—"
"We know," Jess cut in. "But we want to be there for you."
The lump in her throat was immediate and heavy. "Thank you," Ellen whispered, barely a sound.
Jess shrugged and headed back down the hall. "I'll change. I'm not showing up dressed like that."
Taylor stayed a second longer. "See you downstairs."
***
Ellen, her sisters, and Blake entered the Baxter in a perfect, synchronized alignment, a scene lifted directly from 'Top Gun: Maverick.
' The presence of these three women, who had journeyed with her through all her difficulties, filled her with a profound sense of luck, knowing she'd need every bit of it.
A single glance around the room was all it took to identify Roxanne in the back of the pub. She looked so tense. She was leaning back in her chair with her spine almost touching it, and her glass of Scotch remained full.
Ellen didn't put off what was bound to happen and went directly to her.
Roxanne quickly raised her eyes to look at her. "Thank you for coming, Ellen. I promise you will..." Roxanne began, before being interrupted by Ellen.
"Stop it. Don't insult me with empty promises," she snapped. "I have things to say too, and you're going to listen to every single word before anything else."
Roxy nodded, not wanting to take any chances.
Although she'd been waiting for this moment for several weeks, she was lost for words. But it came after a minute of silence.
"I don't understand how you can show up at my door as if nothing had happened.
As if I were expecting you. At least not after I went to your place and Charles told me you loved me, that you had left and no one knew where you were.
How do you think I felt having to knock on your door and having to face the man whose life I helped to ruin? Wasn't I even worth a quick message?"
Ellen could sense Roxanne's urge to intervene and her efforts to restrain herself.
"I don't know if you know how humiliating it is to be left half-naked in your own living room and see the girl you loved running away, as if she regretted it. Because yes, Roxanne, I fell in love with you.
"You could have just said stop, and we wouldn't have gone any further.
Then you added to the humiliation in front of my sister, as if you had the right to show up.
That's hard to swallow." Ellen took a breath.
"Now you're standing right here in front of me.
I'm torn between slapping you and thanking you for giving me closure. Now you can talk."
Roxanne sat up straight in her chair.
"I never wanted to humiliate you, and there is a reason I left.
It's still up for debate whether it's a good reason, and you're the one to decide.
" Roxanne's voice was quieter than Ellen expected, but it was steady.
"I lied to you, Ellen," she said. "Not about how I felt," she added quickly. "But about who I really am."
Ellen felt her entire body go still, and the air between them thickened. Roxanne reached into her coat and pulled out something Ellen couldn't see at first.
"I want to show you something before I say anything else," Roxanne said.
At first, Ellen was still. Roxy pushed a small pouch toward Ellen, which contained six passports from six different countries.
Three blue passports. Three red passports.
She took the first, British, and opened it. "Please don't freak out."
Roxanne Powell, birthplace: Glasgow.
"Okay… nothing wrong here," she murmured to herself. She opened the second, the Canadian. It was her in the picture, but she wore glasses, and the name and birthplace were different.
Charlotte Graham, Toronto.
She looked up at Roxy, who still fixed her. "What the fuck?" She opened the French one. Same thing.
Florence Lambert, Nantes.
Then the American.
Emma Nelson, Dayton, Ohio.
A surge of fear compelled her to swiftly move between the Irish, Italian, and German passports.
Katie O'Connor, Dublin.
Sofia Marino, Milan.
Gabriele Meyer, Berlin.
Same fucking thing.
What troubled Ellen most was Gabriele Meyer's blonde hair and pixie cut, contrasting sharply with Sofia Marino's black, lengthy hair.
Ellen took the Canadian passport back and looked at it again. It seemed real. Far too real. It couldn't possibly be a fake.
"Who are you?"
"The same Roxy you know. That part hasn't changed at all."
"That part? What do you mean that part?"
Roxy paused, took a deep breath, and resumed speaking. "I have worked for the Secret Intelligence Service since 2017—the MI6 if you prefer."
Ellen gripped the edges of the table. "Hold up... you're a spy?"
"I am a special operations agent, so mostly, yes, I am a spy for the British government. I've been stationed in Sydney for the last two years."
Ellen scoffed. "Wow, Roxanne. I am not sure if I believe you right now."
"Ellen, I'm not messing with you. On February 15th, they dispatched me from Sydney for an emergency operation outside the country. I was under a total ban on external communications for two months. It's what we call a 'Ghost Protocol' in my field."
Ellen's guard went down. "And that's why you left like that during..." Ellen didn't finish her sentence. It was too painful.
Roxy nodded. "I received my mission order when we were kissing. The thing is, I started freaking out and messed the whole thing up."
With a touch of hope, Ellen asked, "You didn't leave because you had second thoughts?"
"No, Ellen. You were so right when you said I wanted you. But... I shouldn't have been there."
"I don't understand. What could have prohibited you from doing so?
" Ellen reached out her hands toward Roxy's.
An intense yearning to feel Roxy's closeness overwhelmed her.
Her mouth was dry. Even though it didn't erase all the pain she had felt over the last two months, she was surprised to find herself wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt.
"I couldn't," she said. "Because there's more I need to tell you."
Seriously, what could be worse than finding out you've fallen in love with a secret agent from British Intelligence?
"Ellen," she began, her voice dropping, "when we first met... that random encounter that felt so casual to you was anything but that for me."
"What?" Ellen said.
Yup, in the end, it could be worse.
"The entire operation was carefully orchestrated—by me," Roxy confessed. "You were an assignment for me at first. I had to become a part of your life. I'd been preparing to meet you for a month. I knew who you were, what you do for a living."
"I'm sorry. I think I misheard you. What did you just say, Roxanne?"
Beyond anger, Ellen experienced a profound sense of betrayal at that precise moment.
Ellen had lowered her guard for Roxanne.
What really hurt was realizing she wasn't any better than the rest. Maybe worse.
She felt a deep sense of intrusion, as if Roxanne had peered into her most private thoughts.
Why's that? Giving intel to a foreign government.
Suddenly, the Australian project left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Ellen didn't give her a chance to reply. "And to top it all off, you weaponized my sexuality for your own gain. You lured me in so you could get near me..."
"No… Ellen, I swear… I didn't know about it before you told me. I fell for you. I'm in… "