The Lie(24)

My stomach churns and I resist the urge to double over.

My Natasha.

Reduced to that.

All because of me.

Melissa continues to look at me, examining my face. I try to keep it as expressionless as possible, but I know she sees the pain there. She likes it.

She traces her finger along the edge of the desk. “You know, Natasha was always a bit unstable anyway. That was part of her charm, wasn’t it? Not exactly the type for a professor like you to be involved with.”

I breathe in slowly and give her a steady look. “Is that all you wanted to discuss?”

“Yup,” she says, straightening up and flashing me a big smile. She might just make it to the movies after all—she’s conniving enough. “See you on Monday.”

She leaves the room looking awfully proud of herself, sending me an odd smile over her shoulder. I should probably pull out my teacher card and remind her about grading papers or what’s ahead for next week, or when she plans to guest lecture, but I don’t have the strength.

All of it is being used as I try and process what she said, what happened to my poor Natasha.

I thought I recognized the sadness in Natasha’s eyes, that change that happens when you lose yourself. I don’t think you ever get every part of you back. She’s still missing something.

But so am I.

Closure.

And peace.

I’m not sure I can have one without the other. But I do know there’s only one way to get it. I have to get it through Natasha. No matter what Melissa said, no matter how much of it makes sense or doesn’t make sense, I can’t stay away from her. I can’t ignore her. She’s a ghost that roams these halls. She’s a ghost who roams my heart.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way.

I’ve never really believed that things happen for a reason, and that became even more apparent the night I lost Miranda and Hamish. But this, having her here now, when we’ve both crawled out of the hole and are teetering on the edge, that can’t be for nothing.

We’re either here to save each other.

Or one of us is going over.

With that thought, I open my computer and log into the university system. I do a search for Natasha through the student database and come up with her phone number and email address.

I open up my email account, absently noting that my cousin Keir emailed me back, then start to compose a message to Natasha.

I pause, my fingers on the keyboard, but the words refuse to appear.

What do I say? Last time she physically ran away. This time she could see my name and refuse to even open the email.

So then you should write what’s true, I tell myself. If she might not even see it anyway.

I hate it when I’m right.

In the subject I just put “Please.”

Then I type:



Natasha,



I can’t explain what it was like to see you again the other day. The only way to describe it is that you gave me hope I hadn’t felt in a long time. I have many things I need to say to you, a million ways to apologize, and I can only hope that you’ll hear me out. I just want a chance to say these things in person, like you deserve, and then I’ll leave you alone.

You know this goes against everything I used to believe, but time can change a man and I believe you’re in my life again for a reason.

I don’t want to disappoint fate.



Brigs.



Natasha was once thrilled to discover my rather poetic side hidden beneath all the scholarly film talk. I can only hope she still feels the same way.

I take a deep breath and press send.

Then I become obsessed. I try to work, but it’s impossible for me to do anything other than check my email. An hour goes by. She hasn’t responded and I’m losing my mind.

I decide to check Keir’s email and see that he arrived in London yesterday, wanting to meet up. I immediately put his number into my phone and send him a text, seeing if he wants to get a drink today. I need something to get out of this tailspin, anything to distract me.

I’m not all too close with Keir, nor his brother Mal or sister Maisie, just as I’m not close with my other cousins Bram and Linden. I blame the distance. Bram and Linden have been living in the US for a long time, while Keir has been serving the army in Afghanistan. I guess his duty is over and he’s in London for a few days for whatever reason. Mal travels all over the world for his job as a photographer, and Maisie has been living in Africa somewhere doing charity work.

Unlike Natasha, it doesn’t take Keir long to get back to me. I agree to meet him at the Cask and Glass pub near the barracks and Buckingham Palace for a quick drink, with the potential to turn into an outright bender.

By the time I get to the pub, Keir is already there.

He’s sitting alone at a high-top table along the window, peering intently at the people walking past, palming a pint of beer. With his brawny build, grizzled features, and steely gaze, he looks every inch the soldier, even though his beard betrays him otherwise, as does his uniform of jeans, a green t-shirt, and a cargo jacket.

“Hey, Keir,” I say to him as I walk over.

Keir grins at me and gets off his seat, pulling me into a hug. “Nice to see you, Brigs,” he says in his distinctively low voice. He does an amazing Darth Vader impression. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”