Page 39 of The Version You Hide

My brows pinch together in a frown. I don’t understand. “Because of me?”

“Yeah. I know this is twisted.” She lowers her gaze to the ground momentarily before looking back up at me, her hazelnut eyes glistening with moisture. “But if he hadn’t left us to be with your mother, then we wouldn’t have you in our lives at all. So, I guess I owe him a thank you.”

The breath is knocked out of me. I’d never considered this way of thinking before, never entertained the possibility that Kristen could find a silver lining in this messed up situation.

Or that the silver lining was me.

“That is twisted,” I agree. “But it’s also the nicest fucking thing anybody has ever said to me.”

A tear escapes down her cheek and I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around her.

I’ve never believed in fate. It’s absurd to think there is some higher power in control of my circumstances. I mean, if there is, they’ve been doing a really shitty job with me. But moments like this with Kristen have me believing there must be a reason we came to find each other.

We stay like that, encased in each other arms for a moment before she pulls away, a smile on her lips. “I really think we should eat now before our dinner goes cold.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say, unfurling myself from her warmth. “I’m starving.”

She lets out a soft laugh as she moves back to the island bench. I set the table for two while she finishes plating up our meals.

Over dinner, I ask her about her day, and she asks me about mine. She tells me about a promotion she’s going to go for, and I tell her about the mysterious woman I met at the pier today. I explain how she had invited me to her art classes but that I didn’t intend to go.

“It might be good for you to go. Art is your thing,” she says.

I’d never considered art to be ‘my thing’, but her words get me thinking about Dylan and what he’d said on the boat that day. About how he liked having something all of his own. I’ve never had something all of my own.

But maybe it would be nice to.

So, when I’m lying in bed later that night, unable to sleep, I take out my phone and google the Abstract Palette. Then I do a search for the local bus timetable.

Chapter 13

DYLAN

My phone rings from the top pocket of my dress shirt as I’m getting into the car. It takes me by surprise, and I almost hit my head on the car door frame as I fumble to retrieve it. There’s only one person I can think of that would be calling me right now. Just as I suspect, the word ‘Mum’ lights up the screen. She’s been texting me sly comments ever since her awkward and impromptu meeting with Mackenzie.

“Hi, Mum,” I answer as I turn the key in the ignition.

“Dylan,” she says, her tone almost as firm as my father’s this time. “Where are you? Please tell me you’re still coming to the party.”

“Of course. I’m already on the way,” I tell her.

This is a lie. I’m running fifteen minutes late and I haven’t even picked up Mackenzie yet.

“Are you still bringing Maxine?”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well my mother doesn’t forget names that easily.

“Mackenzie,” I correct her. Again. “And yes, I’m just picking her up now and we’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.”

Or an hour.

“Okay,” she replies. “Please be on your best behaviour tonight though, Dylan. You know how important this party is to me. I’ve been planning it forever.”

I pull the phone away from my face so she can’t hear the defeated sigh that leaves me. It does little for my self-esteem that my own mother thinks I’m capable of ruining her anniversary party. I can’t deny that in the past, there had been sporadic periods where my behaviour could have been described as borderline reckless, but I’ve turned over a new leaf. It’s a shame my parents can’t see that.

“I know, Mum. It’s going to be great. Stop stressing.”

“I want the oyster tower over there!” She shouts and I need to pull the phone away from the side of my face again. This time to avoid having my ear blasted. “And the canapes are to come out no later than six thirty.”

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