The Girl in the Mirror(76)

I read another and another and another. Tarquin lies heavy and hot and still on my lap, and his breathing is slow and even. I have to find out if Virginia is here, but I can’t stop reading Ben’s emails. They claw at my heart.

You were the only one who understood what it was like for me to be Ridge Carmichael’s gay son . . .

You understood that I wasn’t interested in competing for the money. Even if I hadn’t been gay, I didn’t want to jump through Dad’s hoops to get money that he should have shared out fairly among all of us . . .

When I was a kid, I always wished you and I were the twins . . .





Over and over, Ben tells me that since Dad died, I am the only person who loves him. When did he fall out with my mother and sister? He doesn’t explain. But he can’t bear to phone Annabeth. He can’t bear to phone Summer. Without me, he feels as though he has no family.

You were always beating yourself up about things that weren’t your fault. Look at how they blamed you for the scar on Summer’s leg. What were they doing putting you in charge of us anyway?





Ben always had my back. He always said it wasn’t my fault that the dinghy overturned that day.

I’m reading too fast to take things in. There’s something Ben isn’t telling me. These are emails to himself really, and he already knows.

. . . the blood on her leg. I tried to tell you so many times that she did it on purpose . . .





Does he mean Summer? What did she do on purpose? Cut her leg open when the dinghy overturned? Why would she do that? I’m skimming over the words. There are far too many emails to read them all, but I can’t risk taking this phone back to hospital, and I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to read them.

If Virginia is asleep in the spare room, I can settle Tarquin in his crib and slip away. He’ll be safe in there till morning. Virginia might wonder how the hell he put himself to bed, but she won’t guess I was here.

I tried to tell you so many times that she did it on purpose. She enjoyed your humiliation.





He’s not talking about the dinghy.

The pageant. I’m fourteen years old, wearing a swimsuit and a golden crown, and everyone is staring at me, everyone is thinking, You didn’t win. You’re the ugly twin.

I want to argue with Ben. Yes, Summer let me win on purpose, but he seems to think she exposed me on purpose, too. How could she have planned for blood to be running down her leg? Does he think girls can get their period on demand?

I don’t know the answer. I can’t figure it out, but that doesn’t mean Ben’s wrong.

“You’re right, Ben,” I whisper. “I am the dumbest person you know.”

Tarquin stirs in his sleep. I put the phone down, move my arms under his body, and struggle to my feet. He’s grown so big.

I creep to his bedroom and lower him into his crib. I place his favorite teddy bear in his arms and tuck a light blanket around him.

Ben’s emails describe me as someone who could do things that Summer couldn’t do. Handle a dinghy. Sail across an ocean. Earn the love of a younger brother.

Who have I been trying to be?

I have lied to my mother, my brother, Tarquin, Adam. I have lied to everyone in Wakefield. All of this to try to be Summer.

But who is Summer? No one is perfect, but I have never let myself face up to her faults. Teasing me about my name. Taunting me with horror movies. Showing off that she was the firstborn twin, the one whose organs were in the right place. Thoughtless, minor sins. Not things she did on purpose. Or did she?

I pad back to the master bedroom. It’s fully night now, but the bay window is silver with light. Outside, the rising moon cuts a lustrous path across the dark ocean. I can almost see Bathsheba sailing along this pearly line, her genoa and mainsail outstretched like great white wings. I check my watch. Adam must still be several hours north of here.

Ben didn’t like Summer. I’m starting to think he hated her. And Ben is way smarter than me.

I wander into the bathroom and stand in front of the double mirror. I’m a silhouette, backlit by the moonlight flowing through the bedroom.

“I am Iris,” I say aloud. “I am left-handed, and my heart is on the wrong—no, on the right side of my body. I play the piano and I love the sea. My sister died in March, but I still have a brother. A brother who loves me for who I am. And now I’m a mother. I have a baby who needs me to be my true self.”

My father’s will was meant to ensure that his kingdom stayed undivided, but in doing so, it divided something much more important: his family. If all seven of the Carmichael offspring had inherited a slice of the family fortune, as the many branches of the Romain clan did, perhaps we would have learned to cooperate to run the business together. The Romains had expanded, opening travel agencies across the globe, working together to build an empire. If the Carmichael offspring had overcome our differences, what might we have achieved?

Ridge’s will was meant to reward the child who made him a grandfather, who valued family enough to continue his line. Instead, his will has poisoned his family. His will has poisoned my life. Things got so bad, I began to suspect Ben of betrayal.

Now I let the poison ebb out of me. I fill my lungs with fresh air.

Summer wasn’t perfect. She was an ordinary girl. Sometimes she could be unkind. Perhaps she could be cruel.