“Sure, yeah.”
She linked her arm through mine as we walked, waving the others away with the chauffeurs. I didn’t know where to begin with speaking, so I didn’t bother, just stared numbly ahead with the paces.
“Seriously, Laine,” she whispered. “What’s happening with you? Please tell me.”
“The usual,” I said back. “I don’t know why you bother asking.”
I wasn’t expecting her to grab my shoulders and twist me towards her. I wasn’t expecting the sheer hurt and fear in her eyes as they met with mine.
“Don’t do this,” she said. “Don’t shut me out like this. When have you ever shut me out like this?”
Plenty of times, but I couldn’t say that. I could never say that to anyone.
In her mind we were kids kicking our legs out under the tree house in the grounds of her mansion, talking about life and boys. Until we weren’t. Until we were talking about Constantine customs and business and trying to make our way in this crazy world.
I used to hold her tight when she got scared, even though I was festering with fear myself under the surface. I’d pick her up when she fell down and promise her it would always be fine.
I’d loved her, and she’d loved me. Until she didn’t know me anymore, not enough to love me for real. As me. As the real Elaine Constantine beneath the makeup.
Harriet would get married. One day, she would get married. Maybe it would be to someone nice, someone she was compatible with, but regardless, a girl like Harriet could be a happy one, whoever she was hooked up with. She would always see the best in everyone, even in some rich asshole my family forced her to be with.
I wished I could be living in that bubble-gum sweet cloud she was living in.
She was still gripping my shoulders. “Were you out with Tristan? Didn’t you say he had some guy he was interested in?”
It was a decent enough confession to keep her occupied, so I used it.
“He is all caught up in this guy. A rocker. Blue Hawk.”
She tipped her head. “Don’t think I’ve heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have,” I told her. “He’s small time, downtown.”
Her mouth dropped open, just a little. “You were downtown? With Tristan?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I was downtown. No biggie.”
She let out a sigh. “Without security? Your mom would go wild.”
“I was with Tristan.”
“Yeah, but Tristan isn’t going to be much use to your safety from people who really mean you harm, is he? Especially not while he’s chasing after some rocker dick.”
I shrugged, even in her grip. “Yeah, well I made it through alive, didn’t I?”
It seemed my confession wasn’t quite enough. Her eyes stayed fixed on mine. “Have you been hurting yourself again?”
I pulled away from her. “What the hell does that matter?”
She followed me as I walked away. “It always matters to me how you’re treating yourself. If you won’t let yourself love yourself, then how are you ever supposed to be happy?”
“Yeah, I should get therapy, right?”
She was more forceful than usual as she squeezed my arm again. “You should do something, Elaine. Talk to someone. Why won’t you please just let it be me? Please?”
Her eyes were pleading. Genuine. At odds with the fake surroundings.
“Please, Lainey,” she went on. “Please, will you just let it be me? I would never tell anyone . . .”
I believed her. So far in my life she hadn’t betrayed me to anyone. If only I’d have spilled my truths to her in the early days, maybe she’d have given me the strength to act on them. Maybe she’d have held me just as tightly as I’d held her. Still, there was no point reflecting on that now.
I looked at her again. I looked at the way she was looking at me and knew I should do it. I knew I should speak to her, at least about some of it.
“You swear on it, Harriet. For real? Keep your damn mouth shut, no matter what?”
Little miss lovely showed her face again. She held her hand to her heart, like some Girl Guide promise.
“I swear on it. Harriet Roosevelt’s honor.”
Seriously, I loved how she was still such an innocent little girl, even behind her super styled beauty highlights.
I waited until we were out of sight of the Regent’s Club building before I even dared to sit myself down on the grass. A double confession would be dangerous. Spilling my Lucian Morelli truths to Harriet as well as Tristan would only make them more real. My heart was thumping as I cleared my throat to talk, and it wasn’t just from the disgust at my own confession.
It was from the disgust at just how much I wanted it to happen all over again.
I wanted Lucian Morelli.
I wanted his touch, and his hurt, and his hate.