Chapter Thirteen
Lilac
When I arrive at my apartment, I stride to the bedroom and bang my big toe on one of Irvin’s boxes. It aches. Quickly, I grab onto the chair and ease myself onto the soft queen-size bed.
I lie on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, and then realize I have to catch up on some homework.
I had a long day, and I’m tired as hell.
Classes took forever, moving at a snail’s pace.
There’s still some stuff in boxes, and I’m going to help Irvin unpack his things.
I’m so glad that dinner with Irvin’s father is over.
It went better than I thought, and Preston didn’t mention anything about my parents.
I suspect Irvin told him not to bring them up. So it wasn’t a complete disaster.
I fixate on my wedding band, untwist it from my finger, and set it on my nightstand.
It still feels weird to have a fake husband, and it feels even weirder to be in a fake relationship.
In Irvin’s mind, we’re together for real.
He’s taking this fake-husband thing way too seriously.
He kept his promise, walking me to all of my classes and bringing me lunch and dinner.
It’s weird to have a man cater to my every need.
It’s just his way of being excited about being in a relationship with me.
He called me his girlfriend long before we were in a fake marriage.
It doesn’t matter, though. After graduation, I’m going to disappear from this place.
Might get a new name—I don’t know yet. I feel like I’m going to be running for the rest of my life, running from the past. I’ll never have a place I can truly call home.
Numbness travels through my chest, and coldness settles in my fingers. I’m going to miss my friends and Irvin. I’m going to miss Irvin so much. I’m going to miss his kindness and the warmth of his body.
I shake my head. I need to focus on something else.
Even though I have to study for a test next week, I don’t feel like it, so I snatch my phone from the nightstand, hop on Instagram, and check my notifications.
I click on the post Irvin tagged me in, and my heart leapfrogs in my chest. A picture of us on our wedding day—we look like a happy couple.
No one would suspect this marriage is fake.
Many people congratulate us in the comments.
I’m so glad Irvin chose an angle of my face that makes it hard to recognize it’s me, and my page is private. My profile picture is of a cat.
Winter sends me memes and videos from TikTok, so I respond to those. Then a message request pops up from Instagram.
I check my message requests—and there’s one from my old friend, Ally.
My vision sharpens. How did she find me? Fuck. I knew Irvin’s status would catch up with me.
I haven’t heard from her since the first day of the trial for Emerson’s death.
Tears cloud the corners of my eyes. She abandoned me, and her parents didn’t want her to have anything to do with me.
They didn’t want to ruin their reputation.
I lost a lot of friends that year. My mother used to say that if you want to know who your real friends are, hit rock bottom.
Of all the friendships I’ve had in my life, hers hurt the most because her parents were friends with mine.
We’d known each other since we were in diapers.
We were so close that I told her everything—including my secret relationship with Emerson.
My cheeks dampen.
After my parents died, I changed my number and deleted my old accounts so I wouldn’t be found.
My fingers shake as I click on her profile.
She looks happy with her friends and her new life without me.
She attends Yale and has a boyfriend. She still looks pretty—much more mature now.
I spot a picture of her at a beach, her dark skin glowing in the sunlight, and next to her is a new set of friends.
I jump up from the bed, pacing the cream carpet. Heart pounding. Hands curling into fists.
Why am I pissed that she’s happy? She moved on. Moved on from the madness I had to face alone.
Should I open the message request? Or leave it be? I shouldn’t be angry about her happy life. I need to do a background check on my old identity to see if it’s linked to my new name—because again, how did she find me?
I hover over the message, wait several seconds, then click on it.
Hey, Lilac,
I looked you up because I saw an article about you and your husband’s wedding. Congratulations, by the way.
Do you know Paige Colson? She was my best friend, and she died—committed suicide. It was my fault. If I had been kind to her, maybe she wouldn’t have done that. Are you related to her? You two look like you could be sisters or related. I just want to be close to my friend, even though she’s gone.
If you know anything about her, please respond to my message.
Thank you.
Ally
She attached a photo of us from Disney World. We went for my birthday, a year before the murder of my parents.
My chest caves. I stare at the younger version of me. My face was plumper but childlike, and my curly sandy-brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. The light shone in my eyes, and I was carefree. It’s the old me—before the trauma, before the heartache.
I read the message three times. I have missed Ally like crazy. I miss her kindness, her smile, her laughter.
Should I respond to her message? If I do, it’ll open up a door I want to keep nailed shut.
I tap the delete and block buttons.
My past isn’t about to catch up to me.
I look at my hands, at my mother’s blood on the cream carpet, and then at the gray walls where my father’s grayish brain matter glistened.
The smell of overcooked meat mixed with blood wafts through the air.
I clutch the trash can and empty my dinner into it.
The memories of that night play in my head.
I see myself rushing downstairs. Emerson stood in the corner of the living room. A cigarette dangled between his lips. His cold eyes. Devious smile. His words: “We can be together now.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head, reciting, I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I’m safe.
I open my eyes. I need to get the hell out of here. I need to do something to clear my mind, so I send a message to my group chat with Winter and Lyrical for drinks at a bar. I want to get drunk as fuck.
Winter tells me to meet her at a party on campus, the one the football players are throwing, and Lyrical states she has a date with Snow.
I change into a long-sleeve corset dress and knee-high boots, grab Irvin’s key to his Lexus—he has four vehicles—and meet Winter at the party.
I pull up to the frat house. A few students litter the lawn. Loud techno music pounds from inside the house. Weed lingers in the shadowy air.
I meet Winter at the door, and she smiles at me. Once we walk in, we find a group inhaling a line of coke on the coffee table. Um, no thank you. I want to numb myself, but not like this.
I follow Winter to the empty kitchen. Finally, I hear my own thoughts.
“I didn’t know you hung out with football players. How would Keanu feel about it?” I pour myself a glass of punch.
She shrugs, smoothing out her white sweater.
“Jameson’s fiancée invited me. I’m glad you were able to make it.
” She sighs. “This wedding stuff is annoying. Really getting on my nerves.” She pours herself a shot of tequila, then downs it.
“I banned sex with him because I caught him tampering with my birth control pills. He wants me to have a baby. I told him hell no. We have to get married and graduate first.”
I furrow my brow. “Why would Keanu trap you with a baby? That’s fucking weird.”
Her nostrils flare. “We had a long talk about boundaries. He’s afraid to lose me, said he’s in love with me. He saw me speaking to Greg.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Your ex, Greg?”
Greg was the ex from hell. He admitted he was only using her for sex and spread lies about her around campus, claiming she sucked in bed.
She nods. “Yes. He wanted to apologize for what he did to me sophomore year and wanted to know if my engagement to Keanu was real.” She plays with the ends of her hair.
“Keanu threatened to kill him if he ever came near me again. I’ve never seen him that mad.
Anyway, enough about me. Congratulations on your marriage. ”
I nod and shrug. “The marriage is fake.”
She strolls behind the table full of drinks, pouring us both shots. “What do you mean?”
I down the burning liquor. “It’s temporary. It’s to trick his father into thinking our marriage is real, and we’re going to do a fake breakup.”
She frowns, tilting her head. “That doesn’t sound right, Lilac. I don’t think Irvin will be able to fool the board members.”
I shrug again. “He said I’m worth the risk.”
A petite girl walks in with auburn hair and a wide smile. She’s pretty, her chocolate eyes narrowing on us. “I’m glad you came,” she says to Winter, then waves at me. “I’m Raven. Jameson’s fiancée.”
So this is the girl Jameson hates—or so I heard from Irvin.
“Lilac.” I smile.
She pours vodka and Coke into a red Solo cup, her smile beaming. “Yes, I know. Congratulations on the wedding. It was lovely.”
I swallow thickly and nod. “Thank you.”
“You two ready to get fucked up?” Raven asks.
“Yes,” we say in unison.
We drink, laugh, and dance until my feet ache. For a second, I forget Ally’s message. I forget the pain of losing my parents. I forget about the hallucinations. And I’m free.