Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(39)

“Yes!” Her eyes brightened. “So you do get it?”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, he hugged her back, feeling doomed.

“I’m so glad.” She leaned back enough to smile at him. “I’ve never known how to describe it. It wasn’t a cold spot, like everyone else feels. Instead, when I held it in my hands, I felt as if I were holding something alive. This sensation, almost like warmth but more elusive, went up my arms. Then I looked in the mirror and saw the inn open and thriving again. That vision filled me with a sense of… promise. A promise that everything would be okay, despite what we’d gone through with the hurricane. Having Marguerite and Jack reach out to reassure me like that let me know they’ve accepted me here. Even though I had to put the necklace in the Seaport Museum, no one can take that sense of acceptance away from me.”

“Oh, God, Chloe.” Luc dropped his forehead to hers as regret ripped through him. If he could change his mind about telling her the truth, he would. He couldn’t, though. Even if he was willing to deprive his grandmother of the necklace, Chloe would see the portal sooner or later.

“Luc?” she said, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

He forced himself to look at her. “I don’t know how to tell you this, and God help me, I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Tell me what?” Concern filled her eyes.

“What you felt that day has nothing to do with Marguerite and Jack. I know how it feels to hold the mirror because…” The words stuck in his throat, nearly choking him, but he forced them out. “I’ve held it myself.”

“What?” Her arms about his neck went slack. “How is that possible?”

“The necklace you found was never on the Freedom. It came from much farther away. Up until Hurricane Katrina, it was in New Orleans.” He met her questioning gaze steadily. “It belongs to my grandmother.”

She blinked. “Are you joking?”

“When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, it destroyed my grandmother’s house,” he told her earnestly. “Of everything she lost, losing that necklace is the thing that upset her the most.”

“That’s impossible.” She stepped out of his arms. He wanted to pull her back as she stared at him. “Why would you say that? I tell you how much the necklace means to me, and out of the blue, you say it belongs to your grandmother?”

“This isn’t out of the blue.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Getting the necklace back is the reason I came here.”

“I asked what brought you to Pearl Island on day one, and you didn’t even mention it.” She retreated further, eyeing him up and down with suspicion.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up.” The words sounded ridiculous, even if they were true.

“How about when we went to dinner?” Confusion lined her face.

“I didn’t know how.” He ached to explain it in a way that she’d understand. And forgive.

“Or yesterday?” Her eyes beseeched him. “Or last night?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? That he’d suspected this would upset her, so he’d chosen not to tell her? That he didn’t want to ruin whatever was building between them?

But he had ruined it. He could see it in her eyes.

“I don’t understand why you would make this up.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s too farfetched to be true.” Her fists clenched. “You’re saying a hurricane sucked a necklace out of your grandmother’s house, and then, three years later and three hundred miles away, another hurricane dropped it on the beach here? If you were some random guy, I might call it coincidence. But you’re not. The fact that we knew each other growing up pushes this over the top.”

“It’s not coincidence. Not according to my grandmother.” At her incredulous glance, he rushed to explain. “The mirror has some sort of power. You felt it. My grandmother thinks it sought you out.”

Hurt filled her eyes. “What I felt was Marguerite and Jack.”

“You said yourself that what you felt was different from how other people feel the ghosts.”

“What about what I saw?”

“Chloe, please…” He stepped toward her, wanting to comfort her.

“No!” She stumbled away, pressing her hands to her head. “Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not,” he pleaded. “I have proof.”

“Proof?” she shot back. “What proof could you possibly have for something so farfetched?”

“Please, just listen.” He held a hand out toward her, willing her to calm down. “The mirror was the inspiration for Vortal. It’s the portal you have to pass through at the beginning of each game. Anyone who compares the portal graphic to the necklace will see that.”

“That’s your proof?” Suspicion flared in her eyes. “This thing in your game bears some resemblance to the necklace I found, so you think it’s yours? We’re talking about a small gold frame studded with diamonds. I’ve seen photos of brooches from the nineteen fifties that look similar. Is that what happened? You saw the pictures of my necklace floating around on the Internet and decided it looked enough like your portal that you could make this wild claim?”