Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Yosh
Tom lounges on the sunbed next to me, his chest slightly rosy from the afternoon sun. He pops a grape into his mouth in a very distracting way, then asks,
“If I, let’s say, magically turned into a merman right now, what color would my tail be?”
This. This is exactly why I hate him.
Stella barks out a laugh from the sunbed on his other side. “Tom, babe, what crack pipe have you been smoking?” She catches my narrowed eyes, offering a guilty smile.
“Sorry, Yosh.”
Tom isn’t fazed. He moves closer to me, resting his chin on his hand like this is a very serious line of questioning. “Come on. Enlighten me.”
I sigh, pretending to think. I already know my answer. “Yours would probably be a sapphire blue.”
That answer clearly pleases him; he falls back onto the bed with a knowing smile.
Stella snorts. “I can lend you my blue bikini top.”
“Now that would be a look.”.
Stella giggles. “I dare you to do a routine in the pool.”
“Don’t dare me, girl. You know I’ll do it.”
Tom’s cocky smile vanishes the second he notices Terrence watching us. His gaze snaps toward him, teeth nearly bared. One wrong move, and Tom looks ready to bite.
A beat later, he drags his attention back to me.
“Yours would be a deep purple, like that beautiful amethyst in your studio.”
“You remembered I have that?”
“Of course I do.”
Like forgetting something that matters to me isn’t even an option.
I hate how easily he gets to me when he’s attentive and playful. Especially now that we’re keeping whatever this is hidden at all costs.
That secrecy? It’s practically an invitation for Tom to turn it into a game. And he plays dirty— A look that dares me. here, a laden word there.
Little things only the two of us would notice. Never anything too obvious.
It shouldn’t feel this good, but my hedonic hotspots are firing like fireworks. Probably not healthy.
I keep telling myself it means I’m human.
Most selfish excuse ever.
Stella perks up. “Okay, and me? What color would my tail be?”
Tom flashes her a crooked grin.
“Yours would be a soft yellow, buttercup.”
I almost choke. He’s doing this on purpose, the little shit. He wants a reaction. And Stella… Why is she even here? I need to tell him about her chat with Terrence. I planned to do it during our hike, but then the Mermaid Pool happened.
I cough. “Bella, was it?”
“Stella.”
“Sorry to be rude, Stella, but Tom and I usually have our evaluation moment around this time, so…”
“So… what?”
I look at Tom, silently begging him to save me. He doesn’t. He loves this. Loves watching me squirm like a stranded fish. Finally, he stretches with a yawn and steps in.
“It means you need to go check whether those tulips in the lobby are the real deal.”
“Ohhh, It’s a therapy thing. Got it.” She pushes herself off the sunbed, strolling away.
Once she’s gone, I let go of all the air in my lungs.
Tom is watching me with amused, narrowed eyes.
I flip my palms. “What!?”
“Nothing. Just stick with purple, love. Green is not your shade.”
“I’m not—!” I huff, then drop my voice to a hiss. “I’m not jealous. There’s something you should know. Stella has been selling you out.”
His smirk vanishes. “What do you mean?”
I tell him everything I overheard her saying to Terrence. About her thinking Chris and Effy are Jay’s children. About the fire burning the estate down. About Emily vanishing that day.
Tom’s face flushes a deep, furious red. He lifts a hand to cover half his face, fighting to keep his anger in check.
He doesn’t question whether I’m telling the truth. It’s obvious. These are things he never shared with me. The only explanation is Stella. And now Terrence knows too.
“Fucking Stella,” he hisses, then throws his hands in the air.
“You know what? This is on me. I probably said shit I shouldn’t have when I was drunk. I can’t blame anyone but myself. I just hope Jay doesn’t find out that people are talking.”
Tom stares at the horizon.
“This is fucked up. I knew she had a thing for Terrence, but seriously? Is that enough to sell me out? To someone she’s known for days?”
“I know, I’m so sorry, Tom.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Stella and Terrence in the lounge. She’s whispering in his ear. They both look over. She points at us, they whisper some more.
Privacy is an illusion here. Everyone’s watching. Everyone’s talking. I can feel it.
I think about suggesting somewhere quieter, but that would only feed the rumours. And yet sitting here while Tom is visibly shaken is doing the same.
“Want to go to the meditation garden?” I ask. “We’ll have more privacy without, you know… too much privacy.”
“Yeah, fine.”
A few minutes later, we each grab a yoga mat from the rack and head for the waterfall. The crash of water against stone is loud enough to hide a conversation.
We sit down facing each other. Close, but not close enough. No touching. No kissing. Not with the cameras.
“Might be best if you check out tomorrow morning,” I say. “Before the weekend.”
Tom rubs his eyes and shrugs. “I’ll need to find a place. There’s a party at some beach club, and Calvin’s doing his usual before-and-after bullshit. I don’t want to crash there with a bunch of drunk people.”
“We could go to Villa Crumble Aparté if you want. You can check out Monday and move in with Cal after the weekend.”
“Couldn’t have planned it better.”
He gives a tired smile, and it almost makes me forget where we are, makes me want to push him into the grass and kiss every freckle on his face.
That face settles back into a grumpy scrunch. He’s still thinking about Stella.
Maybe it’s good to make hay while the sun’s out. I need some answers.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, love. Anything.”
Anything. I’m not sure that word means what he thinks it does.
“The fire at your family estate,” I say, choosing my tone with care. “Do you like to tell me what happened?”
His lashes lower. He picks at a blade of grass, body language suggesting he’s considering opening up.
“I want to tell you the truth, but I’ll keep it short. And I don’t want to talk about details or feelings.”
“Understood. And whatever you say stays between us, remember?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
He tosses the strand of grass aside and takes a deep breath.
“Jay, Eli, Calvin, and I weren’t at Heatherfell when the fire happened. We were in Amsterdam in a meeting with our label.”
A pair of blue-and-yellow parrots hop from the tree above to a nearby palm. Tom looks up, distracted for a moment. Maybe it’s the vivid colors, the clumsy way they move. Or maybe he just needs a second longer before going on. That’s okay.
His gaze turns back to me.
“Emily set the house on fire, about a year and a half after Chris. She’d found out Jay was having an affair with Janice, our PR agent at the time. That was the final straw for her.”
Emily.
I’ve had so many questions about her. How she’d grieved, how she survived losing a child.
She didn’t. She burned everything to the ground.
“How do you know it was her?”
“Joan saw her do it.”
“The kids were inside?” I ask, even though Stella had already mentioned that part.
“Yes. Her own daughters were inside. Janice and her son, Luca, too. She knew they were all in there and still…” His words choke off, his hands beginning to tremble. He presses them into the ground, gripping the grass.
“I’ve never told anyone this. I wasn’t allowed to. I—I was so scared, Yosh. I went through hell. I thought it was happening all over again. My daughter…”
He gasps, covering his face as the tears flow freely anyway. “My daughter.”
I tuck him against my shoulder. I don’t care who sees. Not the people. Not the cameras.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You can feel it. You’re allowed to talk. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
His shoulder softens against my collarbone.
After a little while he pulls away and wipes his face.
“When we heard the news, we drove back as fast as we could. Forty-five minutes seemed like an eternity. Janice got Luca out first, ran back inside, risking her life to save the girls. The fire was everywhere. Janice got badly burned, but she got the girls out. It was a miracle they all survived.”
“Fuck, Tom…” My voice breaks on his name.
Images flash through my mind—Tom arriving to see their house in flames. Him getting out of the car, running toward a little girl covered in soot. The terror. The not knowing during the drive back. An hour, maybe longer, believing it was happening all over again.
Those images tear me apart.
Tom pulls away. With a quick glance, he points toward the camera overlooking the garden.
“Let’s not fuck this up, okay? We have a secret to keep.”
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
We take a moment for breathwork, centering on deep inhales and the sound of the waterfall.
Eyes closed, he’s finding his focus again. I watch him do it.
And meanwhile, I’m losing mine.
My head is split between strategy and restraint. There’s one question burning at the tip of my tongue. I know I’m stepping onto thin ice, but I need the truth.
He licks his lips. “It feels good to finally get it out.”
“You’re doing great, Tom.” I give his arm a squeeze. ”Can I ask you one more thing?”
He gestures that I’m allowed to go on.
“What happened to Emily after the fire?”
“Jay and his bodyguard Sergei found her before the police did. The family agreed she’d suffered enough and gave her the option to go to her relatives in Argentina on the condition she’ll never come back into our lives. Jay handled it. Fake passport. South America, through Russia.”
I need a moment to turn the story over in my head. It doesn’t add up.
Jay making that decision on the spot. Emily vanishing without a trace.
A fake passport. Russia. South America. It all sounds too organized to be improvised.
I want to ask a dangerous question; do you actually believe that? But it feels like throwing a stone through glass. I don’t want him spiraling in case that’s a new insight.
So instead, I ask, “Did you ever seen her again?”
“She never came back. Not once.”
I watch his face. He says it so simply it makes me wonder; is he in on it? Is he lying? Is she dead? Or is she really in Argentina?
I switch gears quickly. “And how did that make you feel? Her being gone?”
“No feelings,” he says. “I told you.”
There.
“Right. I’m sorry.”
“It felt like relief. I was fucking happy she was gone. There. I said it.”
He scoffs softly. “God, I hate that you always know how to pull everything out of me.”
He looks away. I give him a moment.
“I get it, Tom.”
His eyes flick back to mine, full of panic, and in that blue I see the question he’ll never dare ask.
So I let my eyes answer.
I know what she did to you.