Page 77 of City of Liars

“Olivia—” she began, but I rushed onward, desperate to get the words out.

“I never found out why my birth mother gave me up. I never had a chance to see her face or ask her anything, and now, I never will. But I want more than that for you, Grandma. If you have a sister, I want you to know her.”

Her smile somehow managed to combine resignation and hope. “I know I told you no, when you asked about this before. But given all the trouble you’ve gone to and everything you’ve learned, not to mention the odd experiences you’ve had, I’m willing to be open-minded. It seems as if this was meant to be.”

“Oh, Grandma!”

“But before we talk about this anymore, I want you to know something. Whatever I decide,” she said, “whatever’s in that journal… Olivia, you were brave enough to go looking for the truth, no matter the consequences. That’s a rare quality, and I’m sorry your parents can’t appreciate it.” Her eyes welled up. “I’m proud of you.”

I launched myself out of my chair, wrapping my arms around her. She was small and fragile under my hands, but she smelled like she always had—Arpege and floral shampoo—and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel small and safe in her arms.

Then she sat back and lifted my chin. “Now, I’m ready to read that journal. But I don’t believe we should do it without Theo.”

I stared at her, horrified. “Grandma, didn’t you hear me when I told you what he did? How he wasn’t honest with me about his mother and the lawsuit?”

“I heard,” she said, hands on her hips. “But I also know there’s a lot you’re not telling me about what happened between the two of you. And from what I understand, you haven’t given him the chance to share the whole story.”

“He didn’t want to be with me,” I argued. “He was the one who walked away. Practically ran away, if you want to know the truth. I don’t owe him a thing.”

“You care for him,” my grandmother said. “I can tell.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I said, willing that to be true. “This is your father’s journal. It has nothing to do with his family, not yet.”

My grandmother shook her head. “If that book is what we both think it is, he’s earned the right to know what’s inside it as much as you and I have. It’s the right thing to do, and I’m tired of secrets.” She drew herself up, her spine ramrod-straight. “The two of you started this journey together, and you should finish it the same way.”

“But—”

“Let me finish, Olivia.” Her voice was steel. “It’s no good to keep perpetuating misunderstandings and mistrust down the generations. Perhaps Theo didn’t know what his mother was up to. Or perhaps he did, and was trying to put a stop to it. Perhaps he was just trying to look out for you, to protect you, the same way you’ve been trying to protect me.”

Much as I hated to admit it, that struck a chord. I thought of the tone of Theo’s voice when he’d thought Diane Hayes had upset me. The way he’d taken a cab to the apartment in the middle of the night, just because I’d told him I was scared.

“That dream I’ve been having,” my grandmother said, knitting her fingers together, “about my mother playing the piano. Do you remember me mentioning it?”

Wordlessly, I nodded.

“Well,” my grandmother said, “I’ve lived too long to believe in coincidences. First, my dreams about my mother. Then, the woman you saw at the bar that night… She brought the two of you together, and, just maybe, that’s brought me the truth.” She sank back into her chair and met my eyes. “So call him, Olivia dear, and ask him to come over. Whatever’s in that journal, we’ll deal with it together.”

50

Theo

It was a shapeless Sunday afternoon the week after Thanksgiving, and I sat at my piano, the windows of the beach house open to let the fresh, cool air inside as the music came to life under my fingers. Years ago, when I was in college, I’d tried my hand at composing. I’d loved it, but set it aside when I went to Wharton. Now, I felt the urge to revisit it, as if I were connecting with a younger, purer version of myself.

I couldn’t help but draw a line between this and my feelings for Liv, like she’d awakened a part of me that I’d abandoned in favor of making money, as if the two couldn’t coexist. With her, for the first time in forever, I’d felt like I was living, rather than just surviving, and here was the proof. I would’ve loved to tell her so, if only she’d take my calls.

Well, I had no one to blame but myself. I should’ve been up front with her about the lawsuit, rather than thinking I could fix things on my own. I’d screwed up, as always, even when all I’d wanted was to do the right thing. I’d managed to make her life spectacularly worse, and I wasn’t even in it anymore.

My phone rang, startling me. Lifting my hands from the keys, I crossed to the coffee table and picked it up. I expected it to be Perez, confirming the final details of the deal with Stellar. When Liv’s number popped up on the ID, for a second I thought I’d conjured her.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m so glad you called. Please let me explain⁠—”

“Theo.” Her voice trembled.

I gripped the back of my neck. A series of terrible scenarios unspooled in my mind, the only reasons for her to go back on her decision that she wanted nothing to do with me: she’d been in a wreck; some asshole had hurt her; something had happened to Chloe. A sick bolt of nausea shot through my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

She cleared her throat. “I know I said I didn’t want to talk to you. But my grandmother asked me to call.”

“Okay,” I said, my heartbeat slowing. “Why?”