Chapter 21
TJ
After the party, I crashed in my room. It’s the same room I’ve always stayed in whenever I’m here, yet it feels unfamiliar. I never spent much time in it. I usually ended up sleeping in Cornelia’s room.
Amelie took the chopper back to the city a few hours ago. She wanted to stay, but even I have my limits. I wasn’t going to sleep with her, in either the literal or figurative sense, especially not in Cornelia’s grandmother’s house. Besides, she’s not my type.
She was pleasant to be around, but that’s about it. And she was a bad plan—Nate barely even blinked when he saw us. He looked a little bothered, but no more than when a waiter gets your order wrong.
I was mostly asleep when I heard a knock on the door. Groggily, I got up and went to open it, but there was no one there—just a note on the floor, written on stationery with the initials CRM engraved on it.
Meet me in the library in 10 minutes.
—Cornelia
It kind of shocked me to find that note.
Since she’s been back, I could almost say she’s been avoiding me—actually, I know she’s been avoiding me.
That’s her way of dealing with things she doesn’t want to face.
This felt very out of character for her.
Why leave a note when she knows exactly where I am?
Normally, when she gets the courage to do something, she has to act on it immediately; otherwise, she’ll overthink it and chicken out. Maybe she’s changed. I hope not—I love her just the way she was. But I’ll love every version of her.
I got dressed quickly and headed to the library. I wanted to be there before she arrived, and it’s a few minutes’ walk from my room.
You could think from how fast I’m rushing over the note hinted at getting back together or something. Knowing my luck, she probably called me there to scold me about Amelie. Still, I’ll take whatever I can get from her.
I arrive at the library, but one of the entrances is locked, so I walk around to the other one.
I enter and glance around to pass the time.
I love this room. It feels like it’s been pulled straight from another era.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls in warm shades of brown, filled with antique books.
If Cornelia’s grandmother knew I was touching them, she’d likely slap my hand.
The room is also full of antique furniture.
I pick a book from the shelves, sit in a brown old chair, and start flipping through the pages.
I hear someone entering the room. I stand up and turn around, expecting to see Cornelia, but instead, I see Nate standing there.
Fantastic. He also stayed the night, and out of all the places on the estate, he has to come here at the exact time I’m supposed to meet Cornelia.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, annoyed.
He steps further into the room. “What are you doing here?”
I was about to say I asked first, but considering I brought his ex as my date, I’ll let him have this one.
“I’m meeting Cornelia here.”
Nate looks at me, confused. “I’m meeting Cornelia here,” he repeats.
I chuckle. “Of course,” I say to myself.
It all makes sense now. There’s no way Cornelia would have arranged to meet with both of us here at the same time.
This explains why the note didn’t feel like her, and why the handwriting in the note looked like a girl’s but different from how I remember hers being—it was never hers.
And there is only one person who would pull something like this, someone who wanted Nate and me to talk things out and could easily access Cornelia’s stationery.
This is Laurie’s time out. Though this does sound like something she might do to get us to talk it out, it’s very Cornelia. It wouldn’t surprise me if she gave him the idea. But I know her well enough to know she’s not actively participating in this.
“What?” Nate asks, clearly irritated.
“Let me guess, you got a note saying to meet her here in ten minutes?”
His jaw clenches. “Fifteen, but yes.”
It’s really bothering him I know something he doesn’t, and I’m thoroughly enjoying the fact he doesn’t know Cornelia well enough to figure it out on his own.
“It wasn’t from Cornelia; it was from Laurie,” I say, watching as Nate’s expression shifts from confusion to realisation.
I leave the book I’m still holding right where it was. “Since Cornelia isn’t coming, I’m out of here,” I say to no one in particular. But just as I turn to leave, I see the double doors closing. Nate and I both run towards them, but we’re too late.
I try to open them, but they’re locked.
“Let me try,” Nate says.
“It won’t change anything. They’re locked.”
“Still, let me. Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
I sigh as I step aside, vexed, letting him try. He’s acting like I don’t know how to open a fucking door.
He rolls his eyes and tries to open it, but as I said, he’s unsuccessful. He tries again and again, growing more desperate, and starts manhandling the door. Maybe he can’t stand admitting I was right.
“Whoever’s doing that, stop it! The door is at least a hundred years old, and you better not be the twats who break it,” Laurie calls out, sounding a little amused, from the other side of the door. That only infuriates me further.
“Let us out! This isn’t funny!” I yell.
There’s a brief silence, and I worry he might have left.
“I’ll let you out,” my brother says.
“So hurry up and open the damn door!” Nate hisses.
“I’ll let you out once you two have sorted out your issues,” Laurie reframes his original statement. “So how about if I come back in… half an hour to see how you two are doing?”
“Don’t you dare walk away!” Nate yells.
“I better make it an hour,” Laurie says, and I swear I can hear him stifling a laugh.
The little arsehole is really enjoying this.
Nate walks away from the door, visibly frustrated, muttering something under his breath. I can tell he’s cursing Laurie, but I can’t quite make out the words.
“It isn’t funny, Laurie,” I tell my brother.
“On the contrary, I’m quite enjoying myself.”
Before I can say anything, I hear Laurie walking away. Nate hears it too, because in no time he’s at the door, banging on it again.
“Come back this instant, Laurie!” he shouts. But it’s no use—by now, Laurie is probably long gone.
I look at him. “I’m guessing you also don’t have your phone?”
He shakes his head.
A weekend without phones sounded like a good idea—until now. And even if we had them, there’s no point; this room barely gets any signal.
I walk to the bookshelf, pick up another book, and lie down on the couch. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable. Sooner or later, someone who isn’t Laurie will come and let us out.”
Nate follows my lead and grabs a book, settling into the armchair across from me.
The book I picked up is about the War of the Roses.
I read a little, but I quickly get bored.
I already know most of what’s in it. Cornelia went through a phase after watching The Tudors where she became obsessed with their history—learning everything about the Lancasters, the Yorks, Mary Queen of Scots, and anyone even remotely related to them. And, as a consequence, so did I.
I look up from the book and watch Nate. He doesn’t seem too into whatever he’s reading, either. I try to refocus on my own, but no matter how hard I try, I keep forgetting what I just read. My mind keeps drifting—maybe Laurie wasn’t so off the mark after all.
He’s an arsehole for locking us in here, but maybe he’s not wrong—we probably do need to talk.
I don’t want to, but if we don’t, I’m looking at a lifetime of awkward family reunions.
And I’m starting to get a little worried about how long Laurie might actually keep us locked in.
Knowing my brother, he’ll stick to his word and leave us here until we sort things out.
Our only other hope is that someone else stumbles into the library and lets us out. This isn’t exactly one of the most frequented rooms in the house. That could take hours. Days, if most of the guests have left already.
I think I should be the mature one. I do owe Nate an apology.
I don’t know much about what happened between him and Cornelia, other than that it happened.
And I’m not sure I want to know more. The thought of her with anyone else repulses me, but I don’t believe he intended to hurt me.
I, on the other hand, brought Amelie with the purpose of hurting him, and I did it with malice.
Still… he slept with my girlfriend.
He should be the one to apologise first.
But—fuck it.
I fake cough to get Nate’s attention. He doesn’t look up from his book—he’s faking it, pretending I don’t have his attention. But I know I do.
“I’m sorry,” I say, which gets him to look up. “I shouldn’t have brought Amelie to the party.”
I’d say that’s the only thing I’m going to apologise for because punching him was well deserved.
He looks taken aback, like he didn’t expect me to apologise first—or at all.
“I’m sorry too… about all of it,” he says, pausing as if the words weigh heavily on him.
“I shouldn’t have kissed her at West’s club or slept with her.
I…” He looks away from me. “I took advantage of her. She was hurting after what happened between you two, and instead of helping her, I used it to justify what I did.”
I can see he’s being sincere, and what’s really eating at him isn’t what he did—it’s that he did it when she was vulnerable. That’s what weighs heaviest on him.
“You’re in love with her,” I say, not as a question but as a statement. After everything Amelie said and now this, I have no doubts.
He turns back to look at me. “It’s hard not to be,” he admits. A small smile forms on his lips as if he’s thinking of her.
Truer words have never been spoken.
“How long have you been in love with her?”
He thinks for a second. “Probably since I met her.”