Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
REVELATIONS
Omar
I text Jules on my way to the market.
I stop at the cash point before I head into the bustling outdoor market Brixton is famous for. I’m almost to my regular green grocer’s stall when someone taps on my shoulder. I turn around and come face to face with Jules’ foster brother or whatever. “Connor?”
“Conrad,” he declares with the same toothy grin he flashed the night I met him. But he looks like he may not have showered or even changed since then. Or maybe the afternoon sun is just making visible what I couldn’t see in the semi dark. His eyes are bloodshot and smudged with dark shadows. “And I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life as I am to see you. Saw you and thought I’m saved .” He waves his hands in an odd double high-five.
“Saved? By me? ”
“Yeah. I left my wallet at the flat and was about to walk all the way back but dreading it, like, cause I’m already gasping for a cuppa. But then I see you and figure I don’t have to go all the way back there.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You must have extra bob on you. If you could lend me a tenner that would be great.”
I’m surprised by the brazen, entitled expectancy of the ask, but my mind is caught up on the first part of his sentence. “You have a flat around here? I thought it was an Airbnb and that you were passing through.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Didn’t Jules tell ya? I’m crashing at hers while I’m here.”
I’m too surprised to hide it. “Really?” What the fuck?
He grimaces but looks more amused than anything. “Ohhh, shit. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
I shake my head and wave it off with a good-natured smile. “No. We didn’t get to talk after you left, and she’s been gone all week.” I reach into my back pocket, pull out my money clip, and slip a twenty pound note out. “Here you go.”
“Generous of you, mate.” His eyes light up, and he shoves the money into his pocket. “I’ll give this back in a few days.”
My eyes narrow. “Consider it a gift. And since you’re still here, why don’t you come up to the house for dinner tonight? We’re eating at seven.”
“All right. Nice one.” He holds his hand up for a high-five, and I hit it as hard as I can with a huge smile on my face. He yelps, shakes out his hand, and gives me a confused side eye.
“Sorry. I forget my own strength sometimes.”
“No worries, mate. See you at seven, right?”
“Right.” He mimes doffing his hat and turns to leave.
I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “One more thing.”
He stiffens at the touch but has that same shit-eating grin on when he turns around. “Yeah?”
“How’d you find my house that night?”
“Oh.” He relaxes a little. “It was 100 percent luck. I saw that video you tagged Jules in a few weeks ago. I reached out to her on IG, but she never replied.”
“So how did you find my house ?” I reiterate.
“That’s where the luck comes in. I came off the train at King’s Cross, stopped at the newsagent to buy a pack of Murray Mints, looked down, and what I do see but you on the cover of Architectural Digest . The article made the house easy to find. I’ve been thinking about Jules a lot. Really wanting to catch up after a long time. Thought it was worth a shot. So I rang the bell.”
So she lied about that, too.
“Talk about luck,” I say with a forced smile. “See you at seven.”
I pull out my phone to text Jules, but I don’t know what I want to say. I replay the last conversation we had the night before she left and connect dots that flew right over my head.
It wasn’t a coincidence that the one hundred and eighty degree turn she took that night between me leaving and coming back was definitely to do with his appearance. But what she didn’t tell me was that he was the cause or that she was letting him stay in her flat—a flat I’m now sure she led me to believe she’d vacated when she moved in with me. All of it sets off alarm bells in my head and makes my stomach churn. I look around the market and can’t even remember why I came.
This can’t be right. Jules has been lying to me? That’s impossible. She tells me everything. I know her. And she certainly knows me. I’ve bared my entire soul to her. Why doesn’t she trust me?
This week, when it took her three days to call me back, when she’d never taken more than three hours, I knew something was wrong. This morning, she sounded like her old self, but maybe she’s just a really good actress.
No. No. She’s real. There is no faking what’s between us. She moved into my house and wanted to know what her half of the mortgage was. When I told her I didn’t have a mortgage, she insisted on splitting the bills evenly. She still works two jobs, and she’s never even hinted at wanting me to offer to support her financially. If I thought it was what she wanted, I’d be happy to. I love Jules, and I know she loves me.
So catching her red-handed in two lies is disorienting.
I’ll get to the bottom of it tonight. But there’s a part of me that’s not sure I want to know.