I continue studying him as we all sit in silence. Halliday has her hand threaded through his, and her other one resting over her bump. After a few minutes, he turns, smiling at her and places his free hand on her bump as well. He whispers something softly to her and she nods.
He’s acting like this is all perfectly normal. But that reporter’s question is ringing in my head.
The news reports after the fire said my mother and I had both been onboard but that the fire was so severe they were unable to gather much evidence. I assumed my family paid a lot of money to keep as much of it out of the press as they could.
But there was another body.
And if it wasn’t me, then who the hell was it?
“Here’s one,” Jude says, turning her laptop screen toward me.
“What does it say?”
“The same as the rest. That the yacht was destroyed in the explosion when the fire reached the fuel tank.”
I drag my hands through my hair, gritting my teeth.
“We’re not getting anywhere. Fuck.”
Jude wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Let’s keep looking.”
“What’s the point?” I snap.
We’ve been sitting in my place, trawling the internet and old news sites since we got back from dinner. We decided to stay here instead of at Jude’s because my building’s security team is better at keeping the press from sneaking in. It’s 3 a.m., and we haven’t found anything. Not a single thing. The lack of press coverage at the time of the accident is suspicious. There are articles about my family once they returned to New York. Long lens images of them standing in the cemetery the day they buried my mother… and supposedly me. And there’s the press conference in Cape Town the day after the fire.
But that’s all.
It’s like my father said about people finding something else to talk about pretty quickly. It seems the same happened three years ago. The only articles we’ve found state my mother and I were both killed that day. But none go into detail. None provide answers.
“We’re not going to find anything.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could give you answers.” Jude rubs my back, but nothing can ease the taut muscles.
“I don’t know how much longer I can play along with this weird fucking denial of theirs. I thought we’d fight about it. I thought they’d hate me and yell at me and do something! I thought they’d fucking do something!”
I grab my old laptop and hurl it as hard as I can across the room.
Jude flinches as it hits a lamp and both crash to the floor.
“They’re acting like it never happened. It’s worse.” My voice cracks. “You’re my reason for staying, Jude. And Molly too now. But I… I don’t know how I’m supposed to fucking do this anymore.”
She pulls me into her as a sob breaks through. I’ve held them back. Been strong for her. I didn’t want her to worry. I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing hurt in her eyes caused by me and the situation I’ve gotten her into.
It’s all my fault. I came back and caused all this.
And I hate myself for the worry in her eyes. But I don’t have answers for her. I can’t make my family react any other way. It’s like they’re strangers to me.
“Jude…” I choke.
“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” she says softly, cradling my head as I sink into her chest and cry.
I fall apart in her arms.
“I’ve got you,” she soothes. “And I love you so much.”
40
JUDE
