Page 120 of The Lies I've Told
No wonder that shed had been lit up like a Christmas tree. He probably could hardly see anything the night he hit his hand.
I shook my head, so many things suddenly shifting in place.
“So, why fly all this way to tell me? It doesn’t change anything,” I said.
“Don’t you see, Millie? This changes everything.”
“He doesn’t love me,” I said. “He went back to New York.”
He let out a shallow laugh. “Yeah, and he’s been doing his best to drink himself to death since he returned.”
My eyes widened.
“Look”—he sighed—“I know what my brother might have told you to push you away, but do you think I would risk my career to come down here if I didn’t know for a fact that he loved you?”
I still wasn’t convinced. I wanted to be, but Aiden’s horrible words were on replay in my head.
I was a distraction.
Nothing but a distraction.
“He told you about Ben?” Even though he’d formed it as a question, it was somewhat rhetorical, as if he already knew the answer.
Still, I nodded in reply.
“Outside of the anniversary of his death, Aiden doesn’t talk about Ben—to anyone. Not even me. But he told you.” His gaze was steady, his eyes full of meaning. “He didn’t leave you because he doesn’t love you—”
My hand suddenly went to my lips.
How many times had he pushed me away, only to pull me back again? And then, just when things had been good, when our happily ever after had seemed plausible, a dose of reality had set in. In a moment of carelessness, he had gotten injured, and he’d pushed me away again.
“He left because he does.” The words fell from my lips.
Silence feel between us as I clutched my untouched wine, trying to make sense of everything I’d just learned.
“What a complete and utter idiot,” I said under my breath.
“Yes, well, he never was the brightest of the three of us. The most reactive? Sure. The most passionate? Definitely. Stubborn? Without a fucking doubt.”
I stood up, not hearing a word he was saying and slammed my wine down on the coffee table. “I’m going to go give that man a piece of my mind.”
“What? Now?” he asked, rising from the couch as well.
“Yes, now.”
“Of course. Because why wouldn’t I want to hop on another plane today? Sounds like a great time.”
I blinked, realizing for a moment that he was probably exhausted. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I’m usually a much better hostess than this. Or a least, I think I am. It’s been a while since I’ve actually entertained. Do you want to crash here for the night? You don’t have to come back with me.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course. Just drop off the key with Mrs. Metzler next door when you leave, and don’t eat anything in the fridge. Seriously, not a thing. I don’t know how long some of that stuff has been in there. There are menus in the drawer next to the silverware. You can have practically anything delivered.”
“You are a goddess among men, Miss McIntyre.”
“We shall see,” I said, turning toward my luggage that was still waiting for me in the middle of the floor. I guessed that worked out well.
“Give him hell for me,” James said as I turned around, my hand already on the handle of my luggage.
