“At least now you can own it … make sense of why you did it.” Grady shakes his head. “If you tell Darby, it will destroy her. It will destroy everything you have.”
I grunt. “If. You can’t be serious. There is no if. I have to tell her.”
“She’ll leave you and no one would blame her.”
I feel so fucking dead inside, like she’s already left me. “I’d rather lose her to the truth, than keep her because of a lie.”
“I’m sorry.” Grady scrubs his face with his hands. “Maybe I should have told you.”
I shake my head. “No, you were right. It had to be all or nothing.” I laugh, but it’s devoid of humor. “I wish I didn’t know.”
Grady winces. “I knew it had to be quite the scandal, and that things were covered up. It’s how I felt certain that no one would be looking for you, but … I never imagined Rachel Hart. How the hell did a homeless kid from Queens get involved with a married, millionaire fashion designer?”
I laugh through the sympathy I know he’s feeling for me.
“And for the love of God, what are the odds that you end up marrying her stepdaughter?”
I let go of a heavy sigh and proceed to tell him everything, starting with the necklace that belonged to Darby’s mom. The one that Rachel used to wear to remind me that her heart belonged to someone else. Impossible, considering the fucking bitch doesn’t have a heart.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Tamsen hands me another glass of wine and a new box of tissues then sits down on her couch beside me.
“You need to call him.”
“I’ve tried all day.” I sniffle. “He’s not answering, not responding. And I don’t know what I would say. ‘Hope you’re feeling better and oh, by the way, I know you fucked my stepmom and killed her friend?’” I release another sob and more tears.
“I know in my heart, Trick didn’t kill her.” Tamsen rests her hand on my leg.
“How? How can you know that? He was strung out on drugs and he owns a gun!” I sigh. “I’m sorry.” I press a tissue to my swollen eyes. “I’m not trying to take it out on you. I’m just so …”
“Angry?”
“Hurt. I’m dying inside, and I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, but he did. Now what? He doesn’t remember and I either have to tell him, forcing him to deal with actions he can’t remember, or I have to pretend I don’t know.” I suck in a shaky breath. “He’ll know. He’ll see it … feel it. He’ll just … know.”
A sad smile pulls at her lips. “I love you, Darby. Because even now when you could be throwing things, screaming at him on the phone, or drawing up divorce papers … your concern is for him. No matter what you decide, know that you are my friend and always will be … with or without Trick in your life. Okay?”
Tamsen’s words bring on a new round of sobs as we hug. In this moment I feel like she’s physically holding my emotions together … holding all the broken pieces of me together. In this moment I don’t know if Trick brought me to Tamsen or if she brought me to Trick when she and Grady saved him that night.
*
After a long bath, Tamsen grins, sitting cross-legged on the guest room bed, holding up a hair brush. “How was your bath?”
“Nice.” I force my lips to pull up fractionally.
“Sit. I’m going to brush your hair. It’s soothing … at least I think so.”
It’s bittersweet that this girl friend moment is happening fifteen years later than it should be and under such heartbreaking circumstances.
“Me too. Thank you.” I sit in front of her and let her treat me like the little sister she never had and vice versa. My phone rings on the dresser and we both freeze. I slowly get up and grab it from the dresser then sit back down. Tamsen rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It’s him.”
She tightens her grip. “You can do this.”
I swipe my finger across the screen and hold it to my ear. “Hey.” I swallow back my entire heart that’s beating in my throat.
“Hey.”
One word from the voice that cuts me to my very soul is all it takes. Tears … they chase each other down my face, desperate to escape the monster of pain that resides inside me. I hold my breath and Tamsen hugs my back. I hear her sniffle and I know the pain she feels for two people she loves like family is ripping her apart as well, and her agony compounds my own.
“Sorry I didn’t call you back earlier. I … wasn’t doing so well.”
I press my palm to my chest, lip quivering, eyes closed. “It’s … okay.”