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Just like that, their friendship had been formed. And just like that, Brea had found a way to destroy it and build it on a lie. The guilt would ultimately find a way to kill her, she felt. But as long as Kenny was alive, she had to believe it was worth it.
ChapterEighteen
Present Day
Oriana awoke on the island of Ko Tao at eight in the morning, bleary-eyed yet well-rested, with the Southeast Asian sunlight searing her bedsheets. She thought it was incredible how different the sunlight could be, depending on where on the earth’s surface you viewed it— that it could be warm and orange or harsh and cold. She wondered if the kind of sunlight you were born looking at decided what sort of person you turned into.
Tenderly, she walked from Brea’s bed to the hallway, thinking she would find Brea asleep on the couch or perhaps sipping coffee or preparing for her day— a day Oriana could hardly fathom as it had so little to do with the life they’d shared together. Instead, she found Brea wide awake, her spine straight, a suitcase by the door. She looked like she was heading to war.
“Brea? What are you doing?” Oriana leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.
Brea’s jaw quivered. “You aren’t going back to face this alone.”
Oriana couldn’t believe this. Here in Thailand, she’d expected to find answers about who was blackmailing her, and instead, she’d found the source of her problems— a woman so wrought with guilt that she’d abandoned Oriana, abandoned her life, and burrowed herself into a life without family, without friendships, for years and years, as a way to punish herself. Oriana had never wanted Brea to punish herself.
But perhaps, immediately after everything that had happened and she’d discovered the truth, Oriana hadn’t been so open-hearted, so kind. Perhaps Oriana had said something that had pushed Brea across the world.
No regrets could change the past.
“You don’t have to do this, Brea,” Oriana said, walking toward the kitchen table and collapsing into a chair. “It’s not your battle anymore. I just thought that maybe you could help. And it’s okay that you can’t.”
“I started this,” Brea told her. “I intend to finish it. I want to be there when the ax falls. And I want it to fall on my neck.”
Oriana groaned and rubbed her neck, unsure if she liked all these analogies. “Brea, come on. You haven’t been in the States in how long?”
“I have a passport that will work for me,” Brea explained. “It’s not my name, per se. But it’s a name that doesn’t ring any alarm bells.”
Oriana groaned again. “You really went all out on the hiding aspect.”
Brea cocked her head. “I still can’t figure out how you found me.”
“I paid someone a lot of money,” Oriana said with a shrug. “It always comes down to that.”
Brea grimaced. “I guess you’re right.”
Oriana and Brea regarded one another, both lost in the chaos of the past. Finally, Oriana stood back up and set to work, brewing them a pot of coffee. “I can’t think yet. Just give me a little bit of time.” As the coffee dripped into the pot, she turned her attention back to Brea. “You would really come back? Right now? With me?”
Brea raised her left shoulder. “The fact that you came all the way here just to see me means a lot.”
“But I didn’t. I came here because I thought—”
“Because you thought I knew who was messing with your career. I know,” Brea said. “But you could have sent someone else. You could have sent a lawyer. That’s how these things normally go.” She shook her head. “Instead, you came yourself.”
“I had to be discrete.”
“You’re still the person I think of the most,” Brea said, ignoring her. “The one I feel the most regretful about leaving behind. I know that’s ironic since you’re the one I hurt the most, too.”
Oriana blinked back tears. How could she explain to Brea how much this meant to her? How much she’d ached for Brea to be there during so many eras of her life. She’d missed her daughter and son growing up. She’d missed the birth of her three grandchildren. She’d missed so many Christmases, Fourth of Julys, sailing adventures, and on and on.
But still, Oriana’s love for Brea was strong, regardless of what she’d done.
“You got away with it,” Oriana breathed. “For so long, I thought nobody knew. But somebody must have figured it out.”
“I just don’t know who,” Brea said.
Oriana poured them both mugs of coffee, and together they sat out in the thick heat of the back porch, sipping, watching the island awaken around them. The ocean seemed mystical, far more turquoise than anything back home, and Brea explained quietly that it was almost like bath water, that swimming in it reminded her less of the Atlantic than the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa.
“Do you want to get in?” Brea asked nervously.
