Page 51 of Unmasked

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LAINEYSATIN the middle of her room, surrounded by boxes. They were labelled—not with descriptions of the items inside, but with names. Imogen. Corinna. Mum. She’d divided her not-so-worldly possessions into two piles—keep and discard. The keep pile was further sorted into boxes for the person who would appreciate the items most.

For some reason, it reminded Lainey of a will reading. She was going, and all that would be left of her was an insanely large shoe collection and her childhood set of The Powerpuff Girls on VHS. She should have appointed an executor for her stuff. That way she could whisk herself off to London and leave someone else to deal with it all.

She popped the lid on a dusty plastic tub that was packed to the brim with memories—her grade-six polo top with all the signatures of her friends written in puffy fabric pens. A tattered-looking friendship bracelet with the silver beads containing the initials C, L and I. A photo album wrapped in a My Little Pony pillow case, the cover dusted with pink glitter from some stickers that had shed sparkling particles all over the place.

She flipped it open and grinned. The first page had three almost identical shots of her, Corinna and Imogen in some awful-looking hipster jeans with super-wide belts, strappy metallic halter tops and silver lipstick. In each photo, one of the girls was making a silly face while the other two laughed. They’d never been able to get a shot with the three of them looking good all at once. The Goof Balls, her mother had called them.

Lainey flipped through the album, her heart sinking with each page. Through every up and down, these girls had been by her side. Through every terrible hair phase, every eyebrow-plucking accident, every celebrity obsession and every tearstained heartbreak, Imogen and Corinna were woven into her life. There was no part of Lainey’s history that didn’t include them.

She flipped to the last page and found a loose photo. The image caused her heart to stutter. Scrawled in pen was a date ten years ago. New Year’s Day. Lainey had still had her natural mousy hair then, and it hung down to her waist without a kink. On her head she wore a plastic tiara with “Happy New Year” in glittering letters. She held a giant slice of watermelon.

But her eyes weren’t on the camera or the food. They looked up to Damian. He’d been in his early twenties then, muscular and tanned. Yet his face was soft and free, his grey eyes crinkled with laughter. The emotional scars hadn’t yet turned his jaw to stone.

The memory shot through her like a firework—she’d gone to Corinna’s place to celebrate with the McKnights. They’d bought a watermelon and hacked it into pieces. Damian had been a little hungover and thus, not paying attention, he’d bit into the melon and a pip had shot across the table and hit Imogen square between the eyes. They’d laughed until tears had streamed down their faces.

Lainey didn’t remember staring at Damian, but the open adoration was captured brilliantly in the photo. On the back, she’d written “if only” and the date in purple ink.

If only he hadn’t let Jenny ruin his heart. If only they hadn’t wasted the years since his divorce with her being too chicken to tell him how she really felt and him looking at her as though she was too young, when she wasn’t.

“Is it safe to come in?” Corinna asked as she and Imogen poked their heads into Lainey’s room. “Are we likely to die under an avalanche of stilettos?”

“It’s safe.” Lainey found her throat tight, the words struggling to slip past the lump blocking her airway.

“What’s wrong?” Corinna’s smile disappeared as she kicked off her work pumps and dropped down cross-legged next to Lainey.

“Ah, you’re taking a trip down memory lane.” Imogen bent down and picked up the album, flipping through and laughing. “Oh, God, Corinna. What were you thinking with that hair?”

She turned the album around and Corinna cringed. “I look like a skunk with those chunky highlights.”

Lainey swallowed against the lump in her throat and forced herself to smile at Imogen. “So, what’s the latest with your sister and Dan?”

“Ugh, don’t ask.” Imogen shook her head. Ever since the ball, she’d been quiet about her mission. “It’s a mess.”

Corinna raised a brow. “Why?”

“I had to get someone else involved. A guy from work who knows him.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “But I feel like he’s trying to hold it over my head. I never should have asked him to help me.”

The pink flush turned darker still, and Lainey had a feeling there was a whole lot more to the story than that. But there was one thing she knew about Imogen—she’d only talk when she was ready.

Pushing her for information never went down well.

“Are you taking all your albums with you?” Corinna asked, turning to Lainey.

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “No space.”

Imogen patted her arm. “I can babysit them for you.”

“I thought I’d be okay with all this.” To her horror, hot tears pooled in Lainey’s eyes and no amount of furious blinking would chase them away. They splashed onto her cheeks and rolled toward her chin. “Am I making a huge mistake?”

“No.” Corinna put an arm around her shoulders. “Not if you’re going to London rather than running from Melbourne.”

“How can I do one without the other? It’s two sides of the same coin.” She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand along her cheek.

“If you’re going somewhere, it’s a forward-momentum thing—you’re chasing an opportunity or an experience. If you’re simply leaving Australia because you want to run away, and London is where you happen to land, then it’s not moving forward, is it?”

“Do you remember that day?” Lainey asked, scooting over so the three of them could sit together in the small space between her bed and her closet.

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