Chapter Twenty-Four #3
When the last person in line finally leaves, the manager has two employees following behind her as she brings over leftover stock for me to sign.
“Can I take a break first?” I ask.
“Of course,” the manager says. I make a beeline for the exit.
I ignore my name when it’s called by a reader.
Not something I would ever do under any other circumstance, but I’m starting to worry about Nora.
It’s all I can focus on, even though my actions since seeing him wave at her have probably come off as rude to a lot of people.
I don’t have time to worry about other people’s hurt feelings as I make my way outside and look for her.
I almost release a sob when I finally see her. Safe. Her back is to me, and she’s leaning against a car, talking to him.
Saint spots me first.
He stands up straight, pulling his weight off the car he was pressed against. Nora spins around, and she flashes her usual smile, but she also looks like I just caught her flirting with a married man.
He isn’t married, honey. Far from it.
“You done already?” Nora asks. Her voice is cheerful, but also . . . rushed. She’s walking toward me like she wants to escort me inside and not even introduce me to her new friend.
Saint’s jaw is tense as he stares straight into me. Nora sees me clocking Saint, so she pauses her steps and stands awkwardly, feet from me and feet from him. She shoves her hands in her pockets. It makes her look . . . guilty.
Saint suddenly looks guilty too.
Why do both of them look like they have something to hide from me? Has something already happened between them? Am I too late?
I walk closer to them, hesitant. “What is this?” I ask, my eyes trading glances with each of them, waiting for one of them to speak.
Saint and Nora glance at each other with a look that indicates they share a secret.
My head is spinning. “Do you know him?” I ask her. Then my attention lands on him. “Stay away from her.”
“Petra,” Nora says, sounding shocked by my anger.
I don’t give her time to make it seem like I’m overreacting. She has no idea what he’s capable of, or that, if anything, I’m underreacting. “Stay away from her,” I say to him again.
He lifts both hands in a peaceful gesture and takes a step back.
“Petra,” Nora says again. “Why are you being like this?”
“He’s lying to you about who he is. Do not trust him. Whatever he says, he’s lying.”
Nora doesn’t react like I expect her to. Instead, she and Saint share another knowing look, but this one is chock full of shame. She folds her arms over her chest and looks down at the pavement.
I wait for one of them to elaborate, but neither of them does. Nora eventually peers up at me with eyes that hold a level of betrayal like I’ve never seen in another human.
“Eric is an old friend of mine.”
The words sound like echoes reverberating around in my heart. He’s . . . what?
It’s as if my world turns gray. All the possibilities of what that could even mean are slamming into me from every direction.
“Petra,” Saint says, attempting to reassure me. Or Eric. Whoever the fuck he is steps forward, but I hold up a hand.
“Don’t come near me,” I say to him. Then to her, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Nora sighs, and then glances toward the bookstore behind me. People are lingering, but not close enough to hear our conversation.
She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. “You were stuck, Petra. I was trying to help.” Her voice is a plea for forgiveness, but I’m still not sure what she’s done that requires my forgiveness.
How is Nora, my best friend in the whole fucking world, involved in what happened between me and Saint?
She continues by saying, “Eric and I . . .” She waves a hand at him. “After my live video with you ended that night, we were chatting online. We joked about how it would be nice if he could help get you out of your slump. And you seemed so desperate for inspiration.”
I cannot believe what I’m hearing.
Every feeling and emotion I went through when I thought this was merely Saint’s idea is amplified. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes.
“This isn’t true,” I say with a twinge of hope. “You’re joking, right? If you know him, why have you never mentioned him?”
“I haven’t seen him since college,” she says. “We’ve been friends online since then. You don’t know every single person in my life.” She sounds defensive, but I’m the only one here with any reason to feel defensive. Or angry. Or betrayed.
The two of them should feel nothing but sheer and utter shame.
“But . . .” I can’t fathom it. Nora . . . Saint. Both of them? “You’re my best friend,” I say, stepping closer. “If what you’re saying is true, that you sent your friend to inspire me, you knowingly put my marriage at risk! You put me at risk!”
Nora’s expression loses some of the guilt in exchange for confusion.
She glances at Saint, and then back at me.
“I don’t think I did,” she says. “All I did was ask him to show up in uniform and knock on your door so you could put a face to your character.” She shakes her head, looking between us.
“He agreed to ask you a question and then leave. Did . . .” Her eyes land hard on Saint.
“Did something else happen?” She’s finally beginning to sound concerned for me, rather than concerned about being caught.
“Nothing happened,” he says to Nora. Then he looks at me, sincerity in his eyes. “I told her nothing, Petra.” Saint says it quickly, as if to throw me a lifeline.
I am completely in shock. I need time to process this, but I don’t know how I can do that when the person I always go to when I need to talk something through is the person I need to talk about.
She has completely betrayed my trust, and now she knows there’s more to whatever happened, more that I haven’t told her. Something big.
“It’s not my business,” Nora says. “But Petra, I’m sorry.
I don’t know what happened between you two—he said you only spoke for a few minutes—but I swear to you, that is what I’ll believe.
Forever. Please forgive me. I really was truly just trying to help.
I was going to tell you the next day, but he begged me not to.
And then when we spoke, you sounded like it helped, so . . . I just left it alone.”
“I was there for less than five minutes,” Saint says to Nora, throwing me another lifeline. He’s still trying to protect our secret, despite theirs being out in the open. “I left right away. Nothing happened, I just felt bad that she got scared.”
I can’t even find it in myself to appreciate that he’s trying to cover for me, because I’m furious. I’m embarrassed. I feel betrayed and confused and mortified, and now I’m crying and trying to wipe the tears away with quick swipes of my hands.
At least I made it until after the signing this time before having a breakdown.
My vulnerable position forces Nora to step forward and naturally try to comfort me, but I push her away. The three of us stand quietly as I try to process everything I’ve just learned.
Nora sent him there? My best friend?
When I finally compose myself enough to speak, I lift my chin and look at Saint. “I’d like to speak to you alone.”
Nora gets the hint. She nods and walks back toward the store.
What does he want with me? Why couldn’t he walk away after it happened and leave it alone? And now my best friend is involved?
I wait until I know we’re completely isolated before I speak again.
“Why are you here?” I say sharply.
“To get my book signed.” He says it easily, a failed attempt to ease the tension. I don’t laugh, so he finally straightens up and looks at me with sincerity. “I wanted to see you.”
There’s an ache to his voice now. He seems like he’s finally being honest in this moment. I use it to my advantage because I need to know how mad I’m about to be at my best friend.
“I need the truth. What does Nora know?”
“Nothing,” he says with certainty. “She’s being honest. We don’t even talk that often.
That night of the live video just happened to be one of the nights we connected.
We were discussing your writer’s block, and she knew we were in the same state.
She joked that she wished I could stop by and inspire you.
I mean, it was a joke at first, but . . .
” He stops speaking for a moment. “I’m the one who pushed her to think it was a good idea.
I wanted to meet you. And then once I actually met you, I was intrigued.
More than intrigued. So I kept it up without telling her. ”
I wipe another tear from my eye with a trembling hand. Seeing me cry stirs up guilt in his expression like I’ve never seen. He moves even closer to me, close enough that the memories of him flash through me in a heated second.
“I never meant to scare you. Or betray you. I was attracted to you, and I let it go too far. And I’m sorry. Truly.” He reaches a hand up and grips my elbow gently, dipping his head so that I’m forced to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
I stare back at him, every moment we spent together spiraling through me. Apology after apology, but this betrayal is too much. This hits too close to home. Too close to Shephard. The man I almost destroyed. I owe so much more of myself to Shephard than the wife I’ve been to him.
“I want you to leave. And I never want to see you again.”
He nods. But then he says, “For what it’s worth, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
Saint might, but Saint doesn’t have what I have at home. I brush his hand from my arm, and with as much resignation as I can muster, I simply say, “I wouldn’t.”
I spin and head straight back inside without saying goodbye to Saint, but it’s clear this was goodbye.
I don’t even look back to see his expression, or watch him leave.
I walk straight into the bookstore, and I don’t even look at Nora, who is standing there, waiting, hopeful for any morsel of attention from me. I don’t speak to her at all.
I walk over to the table where all the unsigned stock has been neatly placed, ready for my signature. I sign each book robotically, and even though I want to punch Nora square in her fucking face, she stands next to me and stacks each book neatly into a pile as I sign them.
Nora and I are staying at the same hotel, and the publisher has one driver scheduled to take us back to that hotel, but at least we don’t have to share a room. I’d probably choke her in her sleep.
When the last book is signed, I thank the staff and head for the exit. As Nora follows me out of the bookstore, toward the Escalade waiting out back for us, I hear her whisper, “I’m sorry.”
I climb into the car, but all I can do, after we’re both seated in the back seat and heading toward the hotel, is remain silent in my betrayal as I stare out the window, holding tears at bay.
This has more than likely broken trust in our friendship forever, but it isn’t Nora’s fault I let things go as far as they did. She didn’t set out for me to cheat on my husband.
That’s something I’m realizing I was perfectly capable of doing with or without her help.
God, this is the worst night of my life.