The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

“I have a meeting after lunch with teachers from the NEA.” She strutted in her high heels toward the formal dining room, showing off her full recovery from the accident.

“Well, your little business suit and silk neck scarf make you look like a flight attendant for British Airways.” My flip-flop-clad feet followed the click of her Manolo Blahniks.

“Graham bought it for me.”

“Graham bought you something that’s not lingerie?”

“Yes. What were the chances, right?” She took a seat at the long table that accommodated twenty.

I sat across from her, feeling way too underdressed for lunch—a lunch I imagined being a simple sandwich and iced tea.

“Are you good? I mean … for real good? I know you have stress with the whole politics part of your life, and there’s nothing you can do to change that as long as he’s governor. But beyond that, are things good?”

Lila sipped her water, gently setting the crystal stemmed glass back on the table. “I don’t like you worrying about me. It hasn’t been that long since your mom died.”

“Yes. But I do worry about you, even if … to be completely honest, I need a break from worrying about you, my dad, Ronin …”

Her eyebrows furrowed. The thick eyeliner and heavy fake lashes made her eyes look completely black. “Why do you worry about Ronin?”

My husband was right: sometimes we hid the truth to save people from pain. Was it right? I didn’t know that answer. Very few things in life held black and white absolution. I never told Lila about Ronin—not his connection to her since the accident and not his opioid addiction. It killed me to hide some of the darkest times of my life from my best friend. I did it to protect her.

What would she have been able to do with that information? Knowing he shared her pain would have only made her pain worse. Knowing that her pain caused his addiction—especially after losing someone she loved to addiction—would have destroyed her. I did the only thing I could … I raised my shield of lies to protect her from the truth.

But she was better. Her pain was gone. Maybe I could let go … let her be a friend to me again like I had been to her for so many months.

“Before I say anything, I need to know—and I need you to be honest—are you okay?”

Lila remained stone still for several seconds, completely unblinking. Then she straightened her back and made a slight adjustment to the silk scarf around her neck while clearing her throat. “Yes. I’m okay, Evie. I am your friend. I am here for you.”

I looked for the truth in her eyes, but all that gray hid the truth. After so much tragedy, I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. Grief and pain left me blind to everything I thought I knew. Ronin was right. Relationships could be perfect, or they could be forever, but they couldn’t be both.

“I would never share this with Graham. I never told my mom. And I’m only telling you because I trust you with my life.”

Lila nodded slowly. The unspoken reminder of her loose tongue at my fortieth birthday party passed between us. I saw it on her face, that flinch of regret, and I hoped she saw the sincere forgiveness in my eyes.

“The accident Ronin had when he was a child, the electrocution?”

She nodded. We’d spoken of it only briefly.

“He had a near-death experience …”

I proceeded to tell her everything—the trips to the hospital, the inability of doctors to figure it out, his visit with a parapsychologist, even the opioid addiction.

She gasped, flinched, reached for my hand, and cried. I reassured her nothing was her fault. Everything was an accident. A very misfortunate string of circumstances.

“You believe him?” she asked. Her blank stare fixed on the partially eaten plate of food in front of her.

I poked with a fork at the remnants on my own plate. “Yes. He just … he knew too much about your pain. But then …” I shook my head.

“Then what?”

Setting my fork aside, I dabbed my mouth with the white cloth napkin. “Over the weekend, he went for a hike and this feeling of being strangled stopped him in his tracks. He thought he was dying. I think he even started to black out. I’m not entirely sure. But then it stopped. He tried calling you. Did you know that?”

Lila pulled up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice shook a bit—or so I thought. Again, another shade of gray I couldn’t decipher. “I’m out of time. I have to leave in a few minutes to get to the meeting. Can I walk you out?”

I twisted my wrist to check the time. “Shit. I’m sorry.” We had talked for over two hours. “I need to head back home too. Sue has a class tonight. She teaches painting at one of those wine and art places groups of friends drink and paint.” I stood as Lila stood. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to tell you how badly I needed to share all of this with you. I just hope you know it’s not your fault in any way, and Ronin is fine.”