"That's irrelevant." Her lips thin. "As soon as you knew, you should have told me."
"You're right," I acquiesce. "I should have."
Her face softens. "I'm just glad it's over now. None of us ever have to see him again."
This is the point where I confess. This is the point where I watch her face twist into a confused mess as she tries to process my unexplainable need to get Ben's side of the story. I promised myself I wouldn't sneak around behind her back. I don't want to be that friend. "Alexa, I…"
She cuts me off. "I'm supposed to meet Noah at the florist in ten minutes. Do you want to come?"
"You're choosing flowers for the wedding?" The concept shouldn't feel as absolutely foreign as it does to me. They're moving on a forward path towards marriage. Their reality is still intact.
She's on her feet. "I have to get my order in this week. You're welcome to come if you want."
The subtle difference between wanting me there and accepting my presence as a tag-along isn't lost on me. "I can't." I straighten my back in the chair. "I have a few things to take care of."
Her eyes don't leave her phone. "I'll text you tomorrow."
I nod. By this time tomorrow I'll have Ben's side of the tangled story that is tearing him and his brother apart.
Chapter 3
"I didn't kill my mother."
It's a confession that meets me just as I step over the threshold into his apartment. You'd think I'd have a response sitting ready on my tongue. I've thought about this conversation for more than a day. I've wondered what it would feel like to hear him tell me that he didn't do it. I want to hear it. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I need to.
"People jumped to conclusions." He reaches to grab my sweater and purse from my hands. "Noah jumped to conclusions."
I swallow hard. "Noah is very set in his beliefs about that day."
His gaze narrows. "I guess I can't blame you for believing what Noah says. You've known him longer than you've known me."
"I didn't say I believe Noah." My jaw tightens. "I said he has his own idea of what happened."
Turning his head, his eyes catch mine. "I want you to form your own conclusions. I want to give you the facts."
It's more than Noah has offered me. The other night, after we'd left this apartment, Noah hadn't responded to any of my questions. They had floated past him as he repeated over and over again that the reason his mother wasn't going to be at the wedding was because Ben had taken her from him. He spoke of the children he hopes to have with Alexa and how their grandmother will never cradle them or sing to them. Every path that his life has taken, or will take, has been immeasurably impacted by her death and the clear field of blame rests on Ben's shoulders.
"Do you want some wine?" His breath travels over my shoulder as we enter the main room. My eyes stop on the couch where I was sitting when Noah and Alexa barged in. They had come to pull me from Ben's clutches because they believed they knew what was best for me. They don't. They can't. I can't even say for certain that I know at this point.
"I'm fine," I say the words quietly, hoping that they're intent will rub off on me. I'm far from fine. I'm shaking inside.
He motions for me to sit. "I'll pass too then."
I turn my head to look at him as he lowers himself next to me. "I know it's not easy to talk about."
"It's not." He rubs his index finger over his right eyebrow. "I never talk about it but I want you to understand what happened."
The suggestion that it's important to him that I hear his truth quiets my racing heart. "You told me before that you were preoccupied when she died."
"I was with a woman," he says the words I was avoiding. "She was someone I met at a party the night before."
"I remember you telling me about her." I pause before I continue, "I know the details are fuzzy. It was a long time ago."
"I think I blocked out most of it because of what happened that day." His gaze is across the room, floating in the air. "I've thought about it since we first talked about it. Her name was Samantha, I think. She was older than me by a year or two. I remember that."
I lean forward resting my forearms against my legs. "That's the woman you took to the guesthouse?"
"It was my first time." His voice is closer than it was. "I'd never been with anyone before."