Nellie Moore.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I rub my eyes open. Theo comes into focus. There’s only a ghost of light filtering through the curtains. It’s early. I’m sick of sleeping in a chair but sleeping in bed is still worse, in spite of the company.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His body swallows up half the sofa, long legs spread wide, mobile resting on his thigh, finger tapping it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Why does he look so menacing this morning? Maybe this is a dream, a throwback to the early stage of our relationship.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My gaze refocuses on the mobile. It’s mine. Not his.
“Good morning.” I struggle to push myself up a bit. “You’re up early. Did I miss a call?”
“When were you going to tell me?”
The tapping stops, but my gaze remains on my mobile. No question is a better hook than that. I can’t afford to take the bait. He will have to be more—very—specific before I offer any sort of answer. If my world is going to implode, I’m not going to be the one to light the fuse.
My eyes make their way to his. I say nothing.
“Nellie Moore.”
Strike.
A constant rhythm of blinks. That’s all I give him.
“You have pages from some diary or journal of hers on your phone.”
Flame.
I nod slowly, just once.
“She killed my mother.”
Implosion.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He draws in a slow breath, holds it, then releases it, nostrils flared, jaw firm, every visible muscle constricted to the point his whole body shakes. “When…” his voice trembles like it’s taking everything he has not to rip something—or someone—apart “…were you going to tell me?”
“Never.” I don’t think it’s possible to shatter a person’s world without scarring your soul.
I brush my thumbs along his cheeks. “Daniel, I won’t be responsible for your missed opportunity. Do this for me. It’s my dying wish.”
“Jesus Christ, Scarlet…” his voice breaks “…I’m not leaving you to die alone.”
“If you don’t leave … I will.”
Theo throws my mobile against the wall. The pieces of it clink on the wood floor. I know how it feels.
“Lie to me, Scarlet.” He towers over me, chest heaving, teeth bared. “But don’t fucking tell me that you were never going to tell me this!”
If he read every page of her journal, he’d know Nellie killed his mum. But no where in the journal does she disclose the actual affair. It was just a feeling I had when I read it. I have no idea what to say. This isn’t us—we are no longer a lie.
“Say something!” he roars.
I wince. The ache in my heart is not a metaphor. It’s real, tangible, and all-consuming. “Nothing I can say will bring back your parents. Nothing I can say will make what happened okay. Nothing I can say will change the facts.”
“The facts? THE FACTS?!”
I swallow past my fear, which is hard with him inching closer to me, hands clenched, body vibrating with so much anger.
“Please, enlighten me.”
I’m not sure he really means it. But since he said it, I’m going to do what I seem to do best: shatter worlds.
“Your mum and Harold were having an affair.”
His head juts back, eyes narrowed. “No.” He shakes his head.
Now does he see all of the unwritten words that I saw in the journal?
“Nellie found out. She drove to your house with the intention of killing Harold.”
“Stop.” He continues to shake his head.
“She caught them together and aimed the gun at Harold—”
“Stop!” Theo presses the heels of his hands to the side of his head.
“Your mum jumped in front of Harold right as the gun went off.”
“STOP!” He buckles at both the waist and the knees, with his face buried in his hands.
“Theo …” I bend forward, reaching for him, but he stumbles backwards, collapsing onto the sofa.
Averting his red, glassy eyes, he reaches for his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the police.”
“Please, don’t.”
He freezes, then slowly looks up at me. “What did you say?”
“It was an accident.”
“My mother is dead,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Oscar loves her.” Theo can’t understand what that really means in the scope of my life and my relationship with Oscar. And at this exact moment, with his finger poised to press send, I can’t convey it quick enough for him to comprehend.
“My. Mother. Is. DEAD! My father is DEAD!”
I swipe at my tears and nod. “I’m sorry.”
The vacant look in his eyes says all there’s left to say.
No more begging.
No more bargaining.
No more lies.
He presses send. I hear his voice, but the words don’t register past the grief of mourning the loss of his parents, Oscar’s future, Nolan, Nellie, but most especially … Theo.
A few minutes later, he ends the call. Holding his mobile in his hands, he stares at it—head bowed, shoulders turned inward. How long before the police arrive at the Moores’? How long before Oscar arrives at my door?
I support my air cast with one hand while I lower the recliner’s footrest.
“Don’t,” he whispers as I reach for my crutches.
The idea of Theo never looking at me again, never touching me again is so unfathomable it feels like a special kind of pain saved for the worst of humanity.
I bite my trembling lips together and nod, tears blurring everything.
There’s no question about it, I’m far from perfect.
I’ve taken things that weren’t mine to take.
I’ve hurt one person to save another. I’ve made impossible choices, and I’ve lived with the consequences—as I am now.
But I have to believe that I’m not unredeemable.
I have to believe that there’s something inside of me that’s worthy of love.
Theo slowly stands. I sniffle and swallow back so much pain it nearly chokes me. I wait for it—pray for it.
Nothing.
Not a single glance.
He turns and opens the door.
“Why were you looking at my phone?” It’s not a plea. I know I no longer have a case. I need to make sense of what just happened. How it happened. I need closure.
Theo keeps his back to me, but pauses halfway out the door. “I was going to ask for your dad’s blessing before proposing to you.”
The door closes.
I hug my stomach, collapsing back in the chair as sobs wrack my whole body.