The Lie(75)

“We’ll be okay,” I tell him imploringly, splaying my hands in a sign of surrender.

My dad doesn’t look too convinced. “Not that I’m trying to tell you who to date because believe me, we would never do that. Just be careful. Both of you.”

“We will,” Natasha says, nodding gravely. “We are.”

“And how long have you both been dating?” Lachlan asks, still on his nosy trip.

I can’t help but glare at him. “A few weeks now.”

“Really?” Kayla exclaims. “God. Sorry.” She laughs and looks at Natasha. “This must be so awkward for you meeting the family already.”

“It wasn’t awkward until two seconds ago,” Natasha says good-naturedly. She’s smooth. She’s good. Rolling along with everything even though I know it’s killing her to put up such a front.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s still awkward for me,” Kayla says. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve embarrassed myself in front of Jessica and Donald. Still, they don’t mind having me around.”

“We love having you around, Kayla dear,” Jessica says. “And when you smeared nail polish all over the wedding dress you were trying on, well, how could I do anything but laugh.”

“It seems to me the sales assistant didn’t think it was that funny,” Donald says under his breath.

“That seems like the kind of thing that would happen to me,” Natasha tells Kayla, trying to relate. “Once I was in Rome, backpacking and seeing the sights for a few days, and I was wearing a dress because it was hot and summer and all that. Well, I took the train to the airport and got up, slung on my backpack and walked all the way out of the train, through to the terminal and then onto one of the moving sidewalk thingies. It’s like a ten minute journey at least. The whole time I had this feeling people were snickering at me and laughing, but I mean I’m super paranoid anyway so that’s nothing new. Anyway, finally some girl tapped me on the shoulder—and she was American of all things—and she was like, “I’m not sure anyone is going to tell you this, but your ass is showing.” Turns out that when I put on my backpack, it hiked up my dress to my waist and I was wearing nothing but a f*cking thong.”

I burst out laughing, as does everyone else, since I’d never heard this little gem before.

“Good thing you have a bloody gorgeous arse!” I tell her, slapping my knee. I can imagine her too, strutting through the Rome airport like it’s her runway with no idea that her full cheeks are exposed to the world.

With Natasha’s admission, everyone seems to relax even more, Lachlan included. While Kayla launches into an embarrassing story of her own, I catch Natasha’s eye and give her a wink.

Fucking hell, am I ever in love.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

Brigs



It isn’t until after dinner and dessert, when everyone is settling down in the TV room to have some tea and watch Graham Norton on the BBC, that I run into Lachlan in the kitchen.

“She used to have dark hair,” he says, sidling up to me as I grab some honey for Natasha.

I close the cupboard and stare at him, my heartrate increasing. “What?”

“Natasha,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Her hair used to be dark.”

I stare at him, blinking slowly, and he stares right back at me, his eyes narrow, knowing too much and still wanting to know more.

“It did,” I tell him, wondering what’s going on.

“I’ve met her before.”

I shake my head. “How? When?”

“At the pub Rennie used to work at. Years ago. Four years ago, I’m pretty sure.”

I frown. “Are you sure? No offense, brother, but you, four years ago, in a pub, isn’t the most reliable source.”

He straightens his shoulders, running his hand over his jaw as his eyes dart to the other room. He nods. “Yeah. I know. You would think. But I remember that night. I remember a lot more than you’d think. And I remember that girl because I gave her some pretty sound advice that would take me a long time to take in myself.” He glances at me sharply. “Natasha isn’t someone you forget so easily. She was there, upset, and I was right next to her. We drank on the house and Rennie kept pouring.” He pauses. “She told us that she was in love with a married man.”

I swallow and try to keep my face from flinching, but from the way Lachlan’s eyes narrow imperceptibly I know he sees right through me.

“Is that so?” I whisper.

“She said he was writing a book. Was a professor of film studies. I thought it the strangest coincidence at the time. But I never thought it was you. Not until I walked in that door over there and saw her beside you. And then it all fell into place.”

He’s got me. Completely.

I lick my lips. “Do you think she remembers you?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But she was pretty drunk. She went home in a cab that night.”

“What was the advice you gave her?”

He gives me a ghost of a smile. “I told her to be a catalyst for change.”

Catalyst for change.

That’s what Natasha wrote in her drunken email to me, the email that opened the gates, that led to that first kiss, the first confessions, the first everythings.