Chapter 28 #3
I process that, slowly, and now it’s my turn to wince.
Wes isn’t spelling things out, but I can read between the lines of what that would mean.
Weeks, months, maybe even years of pretending to date Harmony.
Kissing her, holding her hand. Having sex with her, probably.
Bonding. The thought of it is physically painful, a heavy ache in my heart.
At what point would pretending become reality?
Could you really spend so much time intimately with a person without developing feelings?
I suppose it’s possible. But that outcome seems almost worse, somehow.
To have to go through the motions of love, without any real love behind it—and to manipulate someone else into feeling those things, all the while knowing you aren’t being sincere.
I hate the thought of it for both of them.
No one deserves to have their emotions played with that way.
And . . . I guess if I’m being selfish, I can admit I also hate the thought of it for me, too. Because it will be torture to watch all of that play out, unable to say anything, unable to protect Harmony. Unable to be with Wes.
As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Wes speaks up quietly.
“I know it’s ugly—infiltrating people’s lives that way.
Lying straight to their faces. Using their trust in you and manipulating it to get what you want.
” His voice grows heavy with bitterness, and I see true self-loathing in the darkening of his eyes and the grim set of his jaw.
“Believe me, it’s not my first choice. But you haven’t spoken to the victims. You haven’t seen how whole families have been destroyed, reputations lost, innocent people imprisoned and shunned by their communities for things they didn’t do. If there was another way . . .”
“What if there is?” The words leave my mouth before they’re a fully formed thought, but as soon as I speak them, they begin coming to life in my mind.
Wes sighs. “It’s not a good idea. You’re technically an informant, but it wasn’t planned. You haven’t been properly trained or vetted—”
“So train me! Vet me!” I speak as forcefully as I can while still being very aware of the thin walls, my family close by. “You want to get close to Uncle Aaron, right? Be part of the family?” I motion to myself. “That’s me. I’m there already.”
“Nina . . .” He sighs and looks at me like I’m a bowl of ice cream but he’s already over his sugar allowance for the week. Full of regret.
But I refuse to accept that. I refuse to let this be my life.
I refuse to just sit by while Uncle Aaron takes one more thing from me.
“Tell me what to look for. I’m already here.
I’ll look! And if we can find it before the show’s over, you don’t have to go through with the rest of it.
” Seeing doubt in his eyes, I hurry on, buoyed by my own momentum.
“No, listen. I understand you’ll still have to do your side of things, in case I’m unsuccessful.
But if I am successful, you can self-eliminate from the show.
People do that sort of thing all the time, don’t they?
You can make up some emergency for why you have to leave, and Harmony will still have other options around, and no one will get in too deep. ”
No one will fall in love, is what I mean. Not Harmony. Not Wes. I won’t be betraying one of my cousins, again. And Wes and I will really be free to leave together, without the guilt of abandoning the investigation.
It’s the perfect plan! Internally I’m that GIF of the two ladies from Friends, hopping up and down in excitement. And, okay, some of that excitement might be terror wearing a wig. But I can do this. I have to do this.
Wes still looks skeptical. “Do you think Aaron would confide in you?”
Some of my hope deflates, but I cling to the rest of it stubbornly, refusing to let that limp balloon of possibility go. “No. He kind of hates me.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that much out loud to anybody. I always thought it would hurt too much to say; I’m surprised at how freeing it feels to put the realization into words.
Wes reels back in a gratifying show of genuine surprise. “What? How is that possible? You’re perfect.”
It’s said with such genuine feeling that I can’t help but be touched.
Then again, he always did see something special in me, even back before I could see it in myself.
“They leave me here alone at the hotel suite all the time. I have access to his laptop, his iPad. If he’s storing any evidence on there, I can find a way to get it to you. ”
“I don’t know.” Wes shakes his head, though I can see some of his initial cynicism is decreasing. His hesitation now is something else—reluctance, I think, to put me in danger. “You’re a civilian. You shouldn’t be getting involved.”
“I’m an FBI informant,” I remind him. “You’ve already pulled me into the investigation.
You might as well put me to good use.” I nudge him with my leg—the most PG touch of all time, but I feel extremely bold doing it, initiating this contact between us.
He is warm and solid and man, and I savor the touch.
“And besides, it’ll mean I’ll have to check in with you regularly to tell you what I’ve found.
I won’t be distracting you from your investigation then. I’ll be participating.”
A slow smile spreads across Wes’s face, making that dimple of his pop in a way that makes my stomach feel like it’s bouncing around a tumble dryer. “I guess that’s true,” he agrees slowly.
I grin back at him, unable to hide my excitement. Inside, I’m brimming with determination. This will work. It has to. Before Harmony gets too involved. Before Wes has to compromise too much of himself.
The sooner, the better.