Page 110 of Keep Me

Opening my eyes, I stare at her imploringly. “Then, don’t let your aunt take it from him. Beg her. Do whatever you have to. Blackmail her. Threaten her.”

“It won’t matter,” she argues. “What’s done is done.”

“Ugh!” I stand up in a huff and cross the room, feeling like a rat in a cage. That same rage that burned through me that night when I ripped the painting flows through me now. I want to lash out at her, at her aunt, ateveryone.

And this isn’t even my family. This isn’t my home.

When I reach the window, I take a long, deep breath. And I realize what I have to do.

“So, the only way for Killian to keep his house at this point is if the marriage fails.”

She sniffs, and I see her in my periphery as she looks up toward me. “Yes, technically.”

“And I wouldn’t be indebted to her for anything?”

Anna shakes her head. “No, but…”

Her voice trails, and I feel the needles of emotion starting to form in my throat.

“He would need to sign the divorce papers, and you know he wouldn’t do that, Sylvie.”

“I know he wouldn’t,” I reply as my eyes fill with moisture.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What are my choices?” I ask, turning toward her and shutting down the faintest sign of weakness.

Her pale brows wrinkle as she contemplates it for a moment. “Technically, if you leave the country for more than thirty days.”

“We don’t have time for that,” I argue. “I’d have to leavenow. I can’t just disappear on him.”

“Then…you’d have to cheat on him.”

I drop into the chair and let the realization wash over me. There really is no way out of this that won’t end in catastrophe. I can’t cheat on Killian. Iwon’t. I won’t even lie about it. It would devastate him.

“I’ll explain it to him,” I say, my voice tight with the threat of tears. “I’ll tell him everything and explain that wehaveto divorce before the year is up. Then we’ll be fine. He can keep his house, and we can stay together.”

She nods through her tears, but I can see the uncertainty on her face. It matches mine. I’m sure deep down, she’s scared of what this means for her family. To disobey her aunt. To have lied to her brother. To know that nothing can be achieved peacefully. Not really.

“He really had a panic attack?” she whispers.

I nod. “Yes, and he tried to hide it from me. Said he used to have them a lot, which explains why he never leaves.”

I watch as she winces in pain, maybe from remembering what those panic attacks look like. I’m sure she’s been telling herself whatever lie she needs to get through the guilt of what their parents’ death did to her brother. He has put on the facade of someone beingfinefor nearly two decades. But rather than taking care of anything, they let those wounds fester instead of heal, only making it worse by throwing shame, guilt, and isolation on top of it all.

I may never understand this family, but I don’t have to. I just need to make this right for him.

“Maybe I should tell him,” she says, but I cut her off.

“We can tell him together.”

“When?”

I take a deep breath and work through the dates in my head. The sooner, the better. It’s nearly August, which means we have only a month left.

“Let’s give him a week to recover from the trip. Then we’ll talk to him.”

She nods. “Okay.”

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