He frowns. ‘Everything okay, Nella? You look flustered.’
‘That’s because she’s just back from a little trip to O-Town,’ says Jake.
‘What?’ demands Yan, alarmed. ‘Who the hell with?’
Adrenaline makes me think fast.
‘I texted Leo, and he snuck out. He had to go back, though, before his mum noticed he’d gone.’
‘Right, right,’ says Yan. He sounds like he believes me. ‘We’re about to cut the cake.’
‘Great,’ I say enthusiastically. ‘Can’t wait.’
‘Don’t forget your bra, darling,’ says Jake, pointing at the open garage door, before following Yan into the house.
Burning with shame, I grab it from the hook on the door and skulk into the garage for some privacy to wrangle it back on.
The Coke can stares at me from the floor, and I pick it up without thinking. The minutes tick by, but I remain stock still in the dingy safety of the shed, my brain on a guilty loop.
I kissed Mark.
I didmorethan kiss him.
What the hell was I thinking? And what happens now?
Chapter 28
Present day
It’s 8 a.m., and the Uber has deposited me, Pen, Tig and Theo at Gatwick airport. I’m exhausted because I got up at 5 a.m. to wash and dry my hair, but I’m not sure I slept for even a moment.
Yesterday was excruciating. After Tig had finished her story, I plastered a smile on my face and told everyone I was going to check on Mum and Dad.
I hurried away, paranoid that Mark would try to follow me, but wisely, he stayed away.
If only Jake hadn’t seen us, I wouldn’t have had to concoct that stupid story for Yan. Then, years later, Yan brought up the famous Night of the Power Cut in front of Tig, and I’d had to double down on the Leo lie.
I’ve regretted what happened with Mark for years. We were in there for what, thirty minutes? But that half-hour unravelled my whole life.
I wish I’d been able to pretend it never happened, like Mark seemed to do, but the guilt started to eat me alive. I couldn’t stay with Leo. But I couldn’t tell him why I wanted to break up, either.
At first, I avoided him and made up excuses about why I couldn’t see him, then I fabricated slights, like being annoyed he’d seen the Black Eyed Peas without me, but there was only so long I could stall the inevitable.
Exactly a month after I’d kissed Mark, I told Leo I wanted to break up. When he asked me why, I gave him some bullshit reason. Mark’s name was never mentioned. How could I tell him I’d kissed his brother and preferred it?
Leo was gutted. A month after that he got sick, and by November, he was dead.
I know kissing Mark and Leo dying wasn’t cause and effect. Of course I do. But I also know that I’ve never forgiven myself. And I’m not sure I ever will.
This supposed friendliness between me and Mark is built on too shaky a ground to last. Being forced to relive what happened when we were teenagers has reminded me what a dick he was afterwards. And how hard that was for me.
I resented him for what he did. Not for the kissing – I took responsibility for my part in it – I resented that he jetted back to Cyprus without a word, leaving me to deal with the fall-out.
I was sixteen.
I could have told everyone what had happened – wasn’t he even remotely worried that I would? Not a text, not an email, nothing. He fucked off and assumed that I would smooth everything over. Never mind that I was the one who had to face Leo every day.
I always knew he was the love ’em and leave ’em type. Vandi and I used to laugh at the girls whose hearts he broke.
