Chapter 25
The Cliffton Villas were elegant, the kind of place people stayed when they wanted a little something more than an ordinary experience.
There were two dozen villas, each with white siding and identical doors.
I didn’t know which villa was his, so I just started knocking.
A few doors later, I described the man I was looking for to a young woman who answered the door in a red and white polka-dot bikini.
She pointed to one of the villas opposite the pool, saying she thought I’d find him there.
I walked to the door and knocked, trying to suppress the rage growing inside me. The door opened a few inches, and he poked his head out, confusion flashing across his face as recognition set in.
“Georgiana?” he said. “What are you—”
I shoved the door open and drove him backward into the room, slamming him against the wall. My forearm pressed hard against his chest, pinning him in place.
His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Simon Sullivan?” I said, my voice low and steady. “Or should I say Jeremy Shepherd? I saw a photo of you this morning. The mustache threw me for a moment, but it is you, isn’t it?”
“How did you—”
“I met your mother this morning.”
He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he didn’t speak, which was fine.
I had plenty to say.
“My colleague just got off the phone with the organizer of the conference Mia attended last month,” I said. “The woman confirmed a Simon Sullivan registered for the conference. Problem is, when my colleague looked into the company you claimed to work for, she discovered it doesn’t exist.”
He looked panicked, and I wasn’t even finished yet.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” I continued. “You’re going to start talking. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me the truth.”
“All right,” he rasped. “All right. All right. I’ll tell you.”
I loosened my grip, and he bent forward, his hands braced on his knees, pulling in a breath like he’d just been choked, a gesture I found dramatic.
After a moment, he straightened and moved toward the bed, sitting down.
I remained standing, slipping one hand inside my bag, my fingers wrapping around my gun, just in case I needed it.
Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and released a heavy sigh.
“Christian’s death was unexpected. I guess I always thought I’d have more time to make things right, and then my mother called and told me he’d been in a car accident and that he was gone.
I met her at his house, and I started helping her go through his things. That’s when I found the photos.”
“What photos?”
“The ones of Mia. There were dozens of them in his nightstand drawer. I’m ashamed to say I never knew she existed. I asked my mother why she hadn’t told me about Mia, and she said Christian asked her not to talk to me about his personal life. That’s the first I’d heard about their relationship.”
“And?”
“I thought about calling her and introducing myself, but my mother made it clear their relationship hadn’t ended well. She said Mia hadn’t been in contact since, not even with her. I figured if I reached out, she might not want anything to do with me.”
“Why was it so important to you to meet her?”
“In the same drawer the photos were in, I found a handful of letters he’d written to her, ones he must have never sent.
In them, he poured out his heart, talking about the memories they shared.
I found myself wanting to know more about her, and about him, and what he was like in the final couple of years of his life. ”
“So, you decided the best way to do that was to pretend to be someone else.”
“I found out where she worked. I called there, asking to speak to her. The woman who answered told me she wasn’t there and wouldn’t be for a while, as Mia was scheduled to be at a conference in Las Vegas the following week. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
“When did you decide to be Simon Sullivan?”
“It wasn’t planned. When I got there, and I saw her for the first time, I was nervous. I started thinking about how overbearing my mother said Christian had been in their relationship and—”
“You realized how she might feel if she found out you’d showed up at her conference just so you could meet her.”
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah.”
“Were you ever going to tell her?”
“I swear I was going to do it. The longer I waited, the harder it became.”
“Lies tend to snowball like that.”
He looked up at me, his expression pained.
“At first, I just wanted to meet her, to know more about the woman my brother considered to be the love of his life. But as we started getting to know each other, I started to develop feelings for her. I tried to push them down, to ignore them, but I couldn’t.
I know how wrong it must seem to you, falling for my dead brother’s ex-girlfriend right after his death, but I won’t deny it because it’s the truth. ”
“I’m not sure if I believe you because you’ve been lying this entire time. Were you aware of the text message he was typing right before the accident?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ve thought a lot about it, and how he must have been feeling in that moment. The breakup was hard on him. It’s clear he never got over her.”
“And that didn’t bother you, that he died texting the woman who broke his heart?”
He raised a brow. “What are you implying?”
I crossed my arms, waiting for him to stop acting like a na?ve teenager.
“I didn’t kill Wren,” he said. “When Mia confessed someone broke in the other night, all I could think about was how I could protect her. And you know the rest.”
If he was trying to get up the courage to tell Mia the truth, I guessed he’d thought about the way to go about it several times. He may have even thought about what to say if she found out beforehand.
“You lied about who you are,” I said. “Why should I believe anything you’re telling me?”
His shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what else to tell you except that everything I’m now telling you is the truth.”
I leaned against the wall, trying to decide what needed to happen next. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Send Mia a text message and tell her that the plans for tonight have changed. Instead of making dinner for her, you’re going to take her out tonight instead.”
“And then what?”
I held his gaze. “Ask her to come here and pick you up. When she arrives, you’re going to tell her what you told me.”
He hesitated, and I reached for his cell phone sitting on top of the dresser, tossing it over to him.
“Do it now,” I said.
I watched as he typed, and before it was sent, I asked him to show it to me.
A few minutes passed, and his phone buzzed. He looked at the message and said, “She’ll be on her way in a few minutes.”
“Good.”
I sent a text message of my own, and then we waited. A half hour later, there was a knock at the door.
I reached for the handle and pulled the door open.
Mia stood there, her expression shifting from expectation to confusion the moment she saw me.
“Georgiana?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
I stepped aside and swung the door open wider.
“Come in,” I said, thumbing at Jeremy. “I’m sorry it needed to happen this way, but there’s something he needs to tell you.”