Page 57 of All Your Lies
“Yeah, where’s good old Brian, or was it Brett?” Jenna asks.
“You,” I say, pointing at Rosie, “are clearly spending too much time with her.” I point at Jenna.
“I may have indulged in a few too many shots,” Rosie laughs, a bubbly, slightly uncontrolled sound, followed by a hiccup.
I regard them as a girl runs up beside Rosie. Then I squint.
“Are you all in Batman pajamas?”
“We came to save you, Robyn.” Jenna grins.
Then they all laugh as if her words are the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
“How did you guys know to come get me?”
“You sent us a message in the group chat with the letters H-E-L. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it meant help,” Jenna says.
The group chat. I’ve never been more grateful. Who knows what I’d be doing with Gage right now if they hadn’t come to save me.
I extend my arm out to Jenna. “Give me the car keys, psycho.”
“I drove, and I haven’t been drinking.”
“And you are?” I say, observing the girl next to Rosie with auburn hair and a sweet smile in the same Batman attire.
“Jess, Rosie’s friend.”
“Welcome to the shit show, Jess,” I say with a smile as we walk back to the car.
“Hey Jenna, do you have more wine and Batman pajamas?”
“I got you.”
nineteen
Gage
Itake my seat in the front row next to Alexa. From here, I have a clear view of the dock that’s transformed into an aisle, with Vic standing at the end. The grin on his face looks like he won the lotto or some shit.
I glance over at Alexa before placing my hand on her thigh and leaning into her ear.
“You look heavenly today.”
Her surprise gaze drops to my hand before she lies her own atop mine, the sharp points of her crimson claws sinking into my flesh. A clear warning. One I won’t heed.
“Thanks,” she says before removing her hand from mine, which now carries indentions from her nails. She looks down at my hand on her thigh, sighs, and then gazes out at the lake without asking me to remove my hand. As if she knows it’s useless to try.
Ever since we got here, she’s tried to steer clear of me. The bitter taste of her rejection and hatred linger like a phantom pain, a constant ache that fuels my resolve to break through herdefenses. I’ve waited years for her, and a little more time, even if it’s agonizing, won’t kill me… much.
“What colors are you going to want for our wedding?” I ask with a smile.
“Black.”
“Black?” I quirk my eyebrow.
“I’ll be in mourning, or maybe it’ll be your funeral. Haven’t decided.” She shrugs.
Just as I’m about to reply, the song changes, and my sister comes into view. She looks beautiful and so happy. At least I got one thing right.
