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Lilly’s face fills the screen, and she smiles hesitantly. "Hi."
That voice. Her. Voice. I want to say something, but my mouth won't obey. I take in her surroundings. She sits at some type of desk. Behind her is a cream-colored wall with fancy artwork and crown molding visible at the top of the screen. Her face falls, and I instantly feel like an asshole.
She left you, a voice pipes up inside my head.
She didn’t leave you, asshole. She left to keep you safe, reason yells back.
It's like having whiplash. I want to be pissed at her. For leaving. For not talking to me about how she felt. I understand "the why," but it has driven a wedge between us. Yet, I love her more than anything.
"Hey." I force the corners of my mouth upward, but the expression won’t take hold. The last thirty-six hours have been too much to keep up any pretense.
"How angry are you with me?" Lilly’s voice is below a whisper, and I contemplate how to answer her question without sounding like a resentful prick.
"I..." Fuck. "I’m not angry—much." I dig through my muddled brain to find the right words. "I’m disappointed. I guess I would’ve expected for you to come to me first." Truth.
Her chin dips slightly, and moisture builds in her eyes. I want to be there for her, but at the same time, she ran. I just can’t. When she looks back up, there’s a beat of silence. "That's fair."
My eyebrows raise. I expected her to defend herself.
Recognizing my confusion, she says, "I had a long conversation with George and Nate. I understand now that I should've filled you in on my plan. I was just..." She blows out a breath. "I was scared you’d talk me out of it. You’re the only person who could have."
Somehow, her confession releases most of the tightness in my chest. "I guess that's fair as well."
We have to work through our double truckload of baggage eventually, no question there. We’ll probably have a full-on freight train by the time this is over, but we've also already spent years ignoring each other. Well, I stayed away from her. That guilt will haunt me for a long time.
"I also had an interesting conversation today." My rational side wins out, and I shift gears.
"Oh?"
"Where are you?" I’m not ready to rehash my parents’ newest revelation yet.
She inhales deeply followed by expelling all the air at the same rate. "Los Angeles."
I knew it! It's what I would've done. Great, now I’m relating to a criminal billionaire.
"How is brother-dearest’s mansion?" What I can see in the background already looks like the shit.
"I'm..." She pauses, and I tilt my head. "I'm at Brooks’s house."
Well, shit. I didn’t expect that. I would've assumed he'd lock her into some fancy hotel penthouse if he didn’t bring her to his house. "How do you feel about that?"
"Fine?" Lilly shrugs one shoulder. "I don’t think I’ve really made the connection yet."
Instead of responding, I watch her closely, waiting for what comes next. Emotion after emotion flitters across Lilly’s face before she speaks.
"How is everyone at home?" She looks everywhere but the camera.
Her question sends my insides into another tailspin. Is that how she’s been since finding out the truth about her past? About Nate. This constant back and forth between resentment/red haze/I want to pound someone’s (anyone’s) face and I understand/I miss her/I’m a fucking pussy for not staying angry is turning me fucking bipolar.
"Depends. Den and Wes were pissed. I told them about Turner. And even though they want to help, they get it. I guess we all just want to move on."
More accurate words haven’t formed in my brain all day.
"Me, too." Her eyes are on her hands, and by the slight twitch in her arm, I’m guessing she is flicking her thumb against the rest of her fingers.
"Dad was a little more pissed than the rest. But that was mainly after his little spy app informed him about my texts with George."
Her eyes jerk to mine.
