Undecided(83)

I flop back onto my bed and twist a piece of hair around my finger. “All gone.”

“Now,” he says, finally noting the fact that I’m maybe not quite as enthused about this conversation as he is, “that’s not to say you can’t have any fun. Are you…enjoying your life?”

Ugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. Really busy, with work and classes. I actually have to go to work—”

“Any new friends? Boyfriends?”

He makes this same inquiry on each of his once-monthly phone calls, and every time I’ve answered no. As far as my parents are aware, I live with an equally studious roommate and we have no other friends. In fact, we’re barely friends with each other. Since Crosbie now most definitely falls into the category of “boyfriend,” this is a pretty open window for me to explain that I’m seeing someone and it’s going well and please can I hang up the phone. But when I open my mouth to answer in the affirmative, all that comes out is a simple and rather convincing, “Nope.”

I close my eyes and try not to picture the easel in the living room. One more lie to add to my own list. But is it really wrong if I’m just trying to avoid unnecessary grief?

“Okay,” he says. “Well, listen. We can’t wait to see you. We’re hosting one of those murder mystery parties for New Years, and I’ve already selected your role. You’ll be Lucy Loo—”

I frown, thinking of the actress.

“…owner of a high-end plumbing store, who’s a little behind on her bills, giving her the perfect motive for—”

“Dad?”

He finally stops talking.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I really have to get to work.”

“Oh, of course, honey. You’re still at that coffee shop?”

“I am. Thanks for calling.”

“Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

I hang up and exhale. That part wasn’t a lie—I actually do start work in forty-five minutes, and I’m still in my pajamas. I roll out of bed and drag on jeans and a fitted sweater, then head for the bathroom to wash up.

The front door opens and closes, and I hear feet on the steps. I stick out my head and wave at Kellan, who’s returning from a run. “Hey.”

He nods at me. “Hey.”

I quickly wash and dry my face, and when I lower the cloth, I’m startled to see Kellan standing in the doorway. “Jesus!” I stick the towel on the rack and reach for the moisturizer. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He studies his socked toes, looking uncomfortable, and in the process, making me uncomfortable.

“What’s going on?” I ask, rubbing lotion on my skin. “Please don’t tell me there’s more gravy.”

He smiles politely at my lame joke, and finally lifts his head to meet my eye in the mirror. “It’s you,” he says.

I study my reflection. “So it is.”

He holds my stare for a long moment. “Red Corset.” The words are so quiet that for a second I actually convince myself I didn’t hear them.

“I—Wh—What?” I stammer. The hand holding the mascara wand is suddenly shaking so hard I have to set it on the counter or risk losing an eye.

“The party,” he says. “The closet. The corset. It was you.”

“How do you—”

“You talked about the periodic table, Nora. I’m pretty sure no one else has ever used that as foreplay before.”

Oh my God. Why didn’t I think about that before prattling on yesterday like the world’s stupidest know-it-all?

“Kellan, I—”

“Did you know?” he asks, cocking his head. “I know we had a lot to drink that night, but did you remember any of it?”

I can barely stand up. My knees have turned to mush and I’m bracing myself on the counter like it can teleport me out of here. I’d like to lie and assure him he’s mistaken—hell, I’d love for it to be true—but I can’t do it. My voice, when it comes, is a whisper. “I knew.”

His face crumples, just for a second. “Nora.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I’m the one who didn’t remember. Who put your name on that f*cking easel and said…said whatever.”

I shrug weakly. “You didn’t know.”

“When you showed up here that first day, did you know then?”

“I didn’t know it would be you. You said your name was Matthew.”

“But you remembered me? From before?”

I nod, guilty. “I swear I had no intention of moving in when I realized it was you, but you had obviously forgotten what happened and then the whole break on the rent thing and I… I just…”

“Jesus.”

“Please don’t…” I blink rapidly and try not to cry like an idiot. “Please don’t—”

“Tell Crosbie?”

I nod, knowing how heartbroken he would be. How horrible it would be to learn he’s still coming in second, even in this.

“Of course I won’t. I’m not going to tell anybody.”

I exhale so heavily I almost fall over. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just say I figured out who Red Corset was and she’s not the one.” He pauses. “You’re not the one, are you?”