Page 67 of The Favorites
Garrett tipped the bottle back again, then passed it to me; there were only a few swallows left. My head was swimming, but I couldn’t tell how much was from the alcohol and how much from what he’d told me.
“Bella never mentioned any of this,” I said.
“She doesn’t know. At least, I don’t think she does.”
More secrets between the twins. I’d truly believed they told each other everything.
“I always knew she was hiding something about her past,” Garrett said. “I thought it would be…I don’t know, scandalous or shocking. But her parents sounded totally normal.”
That was exactly why she’d hidden them. Their mundanity didn’t fit into the narrative she wanted to create. The legend of Sheila Lin.
Bella told me once about how, when she and Garrett were kids, they’d spend hours combing through newspaper clippings about the male gold medalists from the Sarajevo Games, searching for any family resemblance.Why only the gold medalists?I’d asked her.
Because,she said,whoever our father was, he must have been exceptional. Otherwise she wouldn’t have decided to keep us.
Now I know Garrett better, and I understand what he was trying to tell me: the Sheila Lin I idolized wasn’t real. She was a carefully constructed character, a beautiful mask not even her own children could glimpse behind. But that night, fizzing with expensive champagne and Olympic dreams, that isn’t at all what I heard.
Learning Sheila had come from nothing and nowhere didn’t disillusion me. It gave me hope—that I could transform myself as completely as she had.
The champagne bottle was empty. I stood up, swaying a bit—the hazards of being an infrequent drinker with an elite athlete body-fat percentage. Garrett stood too, and had to grab the edge of the rock to steady himself.
“We should eat something,” he said. “Maybe there’s still food left at the party?”
“Or we could be antisocial and order room service.”
The party guests were probably too wasted themselves to notice the state we were in, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Garrett tucked my arm through his, and we staggered up the beach together to collect my shoes. As I reached down to retrieve them, his suit jacket slipped off my shoulder, dragging in the sand. He pulled it back into place and wrapped it tighter around my shoulders. I felt warm and cared for, closer to him than ever. If I hadn’t seen him with Ellis earlier, I would have given serious thought to kissing Garrett at midnight.
“What sort of food should we order?” he asked as we continued toward the hotel.
“Something withcheese.”
Garrett laughed, knocking into my side. He slipped his arm under the jacket to hold my waist. “You can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the Midwest out of th—”
He stopped. Someone stood ahead of us, blocking the path.
Heath.
Chapter 37
“Rocha.” Garrett dropped his hold on my waist. “We were just—”
“Down on the beach together,” Heath said. “You’ve always loved the beach, haven’t you, Katarina? Couldn’t get enough of it when we were younger. All those long nights by the lake.”
I glared at him. “Are you finished?”
“I suppose I am.” Heath stepped out of our way with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. “She’s all yours.”
Garrett shook his head. “No, no. It’s not like that.”
I could see the warring emotions on his face, the weighing of options. I knew what he was about to do—and I couldn’t let him. Not for my sake.
So once again, I chose Garrett. I stood beside him, I took his hand. I turned on Heath and spat, “What right do you have to be jealous? You’re nothing to me.”
“Kat,” Garrett said, tugging on my hand. “Let’s go.”
But I couldn’t stop. The champagne gave me the courage I hadn’t had earlier in the evening. How dare Heath try to shame me. How dare he imply that I’d belonged to him, that he was somehow ceding his claim to Garrett. I didn’t belong to anyone.
