Page 68 of Fireworks Flame
I shake my head, unable to argue.
“It’s not his fault,” Simone says with a sigh. “He can’t value anything because he’s never had to work for anything.”
“And you have?” I exhale the words, shaky and fierce. “Do you have any idea how stupidyousound right now? Your idea of a job is drinking champagne while snapping selfies. Deiss had an actual career before he could even walk. I’m pretty sure work isn’t a measurementyouwant to use to judge character.”
Simone goes still. For a moment, I’m scared my blow has landed too heavy, but there’s something about the sharpening of her eyes. She doesn’t look hurt. She looks like a snake, sizing up her prey before she strikes.
“A career for babies...” Her eyes spark with malevolence.
My stomach clenches at the realization of what I’ve just done. It could’ve just been a throwaway comment if Simone didn’t know him so well. If only Deiss had offered some lies instead of being so belligerently tight-lipped about his past, maybe Simone wouldn’t have leapt at this tiny scrap of detail.
“I didn’t mean an actual career,” I lie desperately.
“Of course you did.” Her eyes are hard. “So, what is it, Liv? What did Deiss do that was so private he could only tell you? It had to have been something where he felt exposed. Something public.”
She studies me.
“It was on the trip, right?” She nods at the way my back stiffens. “That’s when all the little inside jokes started.”
“Please just stop,” I plead. “This isn’t about Deiss. You’reworried about me, remember? How I’m being so desperate and naive and am going to break up the whole group when I get my heart broken?”
“He would’ve teased you with it.” She tilts her head like I haven’t spoken. “He likes it when he manages to knock you off balance. So, the question is, what has he said lately that’s strange? Something childish.”
“Simone,” I say, my voice going sharp. “That’s enough.”
But it’s too late. I see the dawn of realization as it lights up her eyes.
“Funnn-tastic,” she drawls, clearly pleased with herself.
I open my mouth to lie. But Deiss’s face flashes through my mind, his eyes filled with hurt. My stomach turns violently. Spinning on one heel, I reach for the sink, bending over it as I choke. But nothing comes out, even though my entire body is insisting I need to vomit.
Apparently, regret isn’t so easy to expel.
—
I’m in thebathroom, putting on the final touches of my makeup when I hear the door to the loft open and Deiss calls out my name.
“In here,” I say. Nervously, I fluff my hair. If my appearance is my armor, I’ve gone full metal suit. I don’t know if I’m hoping my contrived beauty will distract Deiss when I confess how I’ve betrayed his secret or if I just want him to remember me at my best when he ends whatever this is. I just know that the moment Simone left, I started working on myself with a determination that suggested I could turn myself into an entirely different person if I simply tried hard enough.
Simone said she wouldn’t tell. It took a lot of begging, but in the end, she promised she’d keep Deiss’s secret for his sake, rather than mine. For one glorious moment, I let myself believe that meant I could keep my mouth shut as well. I know I can’t, though. Not if we’re about to spend most of the day together. There’s omission and then there’s lying. The effort required to talk around something so huge for hours can only be categorized as the latter.
“I’ll just jump in the shower, and then we can go,” he yells.
“I know you didn’t get much sleep last night,” I call out, smoothing down the lavender skirt he’s already seen three times in the last two weeks. I wish I weren’t bothered by wearing this again, but I’d feel so much more confident in something new. “You really don’t have to come with me if you’d rather take a nap.”
I listen for his response, venturing out of the bathroom when none comes. He’s leaning against the counter, staring at the couch. His gaze shifts toward me as my heels click against the hardwood floor.
“Simone talked you out of it then,” he says with a pained smile. It’s such an unnatural expression on him, I want to kiss it away. “I was worried she might.”
“Of course she didn’t.” I stop a few feet away from him, my guilt preventing me from getting too close.
“She tried, though,” Deiss says.
“She thinks you’ll get tired of me.”
“I won’t,” he says firmly. “It’s been eleven years and I haven’t yet, have I?”
I smile, and he reaches for me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss against my mouth.
