Page 62 of Every Silent Lie
There’s a slight pause, and I wince, knowing Deirdre will be looking somewhat surprised. Have I ever asked her that? How she is? “I’m well.”
“Any visitors?” I ask, wondering if my brother’s finally shown his face.
“No visitors, Camryn.”
I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am. “I’ll be there tomorrow.” As I go to hang up, I hear Deirdre call me, so I return my phone to my ear. “Yes?”
“The carols service.”
“What about it?”
“I wondered if perhaps you’d reconsidered.”
I press my lips together, my instinct yelling at me to shut this down, but I’m clearly behaving extremely out of character today, and I find some very unexpected words falling past my lips. “Let me see if I can move some things around.”
“Oh,” she sounds shocked. “That’s wonderful.”
Is it? I’m not so sure. I hang up and take a moment to process what I’ve just agreed to. Honestly, I can’t; I’m doing things and saying things I’m not sure are wise, and yet I can’t stop myself doing them and saying them.
I loved what you told me.
Dec.
A man of few words, and yet each one he speaks packs such a powerful and invigorating punch.
* * *
I’ve practiced my apology all the way here. Not to Dec, I hope he heard my sorry amid all the other things I told him when I kissed him outside his office. I’m yet to analyse what that was, it just feels so fucking huge. My apology is for Julio.
He clocks me the moment I step into the bar, and my face bunches. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he says, polishing a glass as I approach. “Or maybe I’m not.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“Sit down,” he says, dismissing me, flicking his head to my usual stool. “Two?”
I nod and do as I’m bid, perching and lowering my bag to the floor, rather than dropping it to the seat beside me, before making a quick scan of the bar.
“Who are you looking for?”
I throw Julio a tired look. “No one.” I reach down and pull my boots off, swapping them for my heels.
“The American checked out this morning, in case you were looking for him.”
“I wasn’t.” But I’m eternally relieved.
“Still snowing out there?” he asks.
“Relentlessly.”
“They’re predicting we’ve got weeks of it.”
I smile mildly, setting my phone on the bar. “Is this what we’re resorting to now? Mindless chitchat about the weather?”
“Do you want to talk about something else?”
I shrug, watching him go through the motions of making my dirty martinis. “I suppose it makes me just like any other patron you encounter daily.”
He laughs under his breath. “You are unlike any of my other patrons.”
