Page 114 of The Tartan Thesis

I drain the rest of the glass, then top it up.

“Did you confront him about it?” she asks. “Is that why you hung up on me?”

“Aye”—I set down my drink, then immediately pick it back up—“and I told him he wouldn’t get any more help from me.”

“And what did he say?”

“He pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about, then he said some things about…” But I don’t want to go there right now. “He made it clear what he thought of me, and it wasn’t high praise.”

Freya hesitates before she says, “That doesn’t sound like Beau.”

The anger in my belly rises again as her words spotlight the full extent of his deception. He hadn’t just fooled me. He’d fooled my family.

“Are you on his side now? Did he charm you into thinking he was such a good person?”

“No, I—” she starts, but I’ll not be having it.

“Because he’s not! He’s a bawbag,” I shout before grumbling, “the bloody American bastard.” I pace the length of the kitchen, dragging a hand through my hair, heat building under my skin. Then I remember something else. “You know, he even had the audacity to cry when I confronted him. Can you believe that?”

“Torin—”

“And now you’re sitting there telling me this doesn’t sound like him? What, you think I’ve made it up? That I just imagined the whole thing?”

“That’s not what I said—”

Another drink. I’m quickly running out.

“Well, it sounds like you’re defending him,” I fire back. “Sounds like you’ve decided he’s some perfect guy who can do no wrong and I’m—”

“Torin!” Freya says, the edge in her voice signaling trouble. “I’m your sister and best friend, and you know I’m always on your side. No one else’s. I understand that you’re upset, but I’ll not have you taking your mood out on me. Understand me, pal?”

The anger drains out of me almost as quickly as it came.

“You’re right,” I say. “That wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, what I was trying to say is that until today, Beau has never given you any reason to mistrust him. He’s never lied to you before, has he?”

“No,” I admit, “but—”

“And despite his occasional confident swagger, he’s shown himself to be a kind and caring person.”

“I suppose.” Most of his confidence seems to be smoke and mirrors anyway. I hadn’t realized it at first, but his insecurities run deep.

“Then why, for the love of all that is gay in this world, were you so quick to jump to the conclusion that he was manipulating you, despite months and months of positive interactions and only one piece of evidence that he might have done something nefarious?”

This silences me. Beau hasn’t given me any reason to think poorly of him. Until today with the thesis proposal. And again when I was leaving. Though even then, he didn’t say anything that was untrue.

“So,” Freya continues, “when I said that what you described doesn’t sound like Beau, you understand my reasoning.”

“Aye, it’s well-reasoned.”

“I know. Because despite the fact I’ll have to call you ‘doctor’ someday, I really am the smarter sibling. That’s a low bar, mind, since my brother’s an eejit.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I say without any vehemence, taking another drink.

“Nah, you need me too much,” she says.

“So what do you think I should do, oh wise sibling?”