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“This is your handwriting, Tully.” I’m tempted to ask if she’s struggling with memory loss, but the irony of that question holds me back.
“It’s close to my handwriting, but…” She continues flipping through the letters. “I swear I didn't write these.”
“None of them?”
“No.”
What the hell is shesaying? “What about when you told me that Scarlett’s kidney failed? Does she havea dialysis schedule or did she get a transplant?”
“Shegave me her kidney.” She crosses her arms. “How do you know anything about that?”
“Okay, wait, wait.” I’m getting confused. “I thought—”
“Scarlett is fine,” she says. “I mean, as fine as you can be after all the shit she’s been through. She had her moments, butthey put her on a different recovery plan and she recovered before I did.”
The world suddenly shifts under my fucking feet. My previous years away play in my head in a blur, and the fact that she can’t remember the letters isn’t a memory failure at all.
Scarlett wrote them…
“You look like you're about to faint, Easton.”
“I need to step outside for a second.”
I turn away without another word and return to the veranda.
A gray car pulls into the driveway as I grip the railing.
The driver's side door opens and Scarlett steps out. Her dark brown hair has hints of honey highlights and she has a few small scars on her arms and face.
She’s still as fucking beautiful as the first day I met her, and there’s—
My thoughts come to a complete halt as she opens the back door, revealing a bright pink car seat with a sleeping child inside.
What. The. Fuck?
I slowly walk down the steps into her line of view.
Her face pales and her eyes widen.
She looks tempted to return to her car and drive off, so I walk toward her before she can make that decision.
“You’ve moved on that fast?” I ask. “New guy, new baby?”
“Something like that…”
I can’t fathom that idea, so I stick to the main issue at hand. The lies.
“Please tell me this is a nightmare that I’ll wake up from soon,” I say. “Please tell me you didn’t send me letters for over a year pretending to be your fucking sister. Tell me I'm wrong about that.”
She doesn't say a word.
Tears run down her cheeks.
“Scarlett, say something.”
“How are you even here right now, Easton?”
"That's a conversation for a different day,” I say. “Let’s stick to the first one. You’ve been lying to me this entire time?”
