Wednesday, June 15
I scrolled through Alistair’s messages on my cellphone one more time. Most of it was dribble, but the last line cut through.
Vera, talk to me. Let me explain. You need to know the truth.
A tear slipped down my cheek as I hit call.
“Hey, Scotty.”
“Hello.” His voice was ice—flat, stripped of warmth.
I didn’t waste time. “Who is Erin to you?”
“She’s my brother Oliver’s wife.”
“So you got her pregnant behind his back? You make me sick.”
“Vera… Erin and I were in a relationship once. She’s not innocent either.”
“Was she the woman you loved? Do you still love her?”
Silence. Heavy.
“Hello? Scotty?” I paced my room, glancing at the screen like the connection was to blame.
“I’m here.” His voice finally came, low. “We were in love. But that’s the past.”
My stomach twisted. “Were you fucking Erin while you were with me?”
“No. I ended it before you and I met. That’s the truth.”
“Yet I saw you kissing her.”
“It’s not what you?—”
“Not what I think? Then tell me what the hell it was. What kind of man are you?”
“I’m sorry. I care for you, Vera. I do.”
I bit down hard, tasting salt. “It’s not enough. I want to trust you—but I can’t.”
“You have to trust me. I told Saira to leave your brother alone, but she’s a snake in the grass. She’ll strike again. You may still need me—more than you know.”
I rolled my eyes, wiping another tear before it fell. “Thanks for helping my brother. But I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”
“Sweetheart, just lis?—”
“Stop.” My voice cracked sharply. “Don’t contact me again. Ever.”
“Vera,” Alistair pleaded. “Please. Think about it. Is this really what you want?”
“It’s what I need. I need space from you.”
Silence stretched, cold and suffocating.
“Very well,” he said at last, voice turning to steel. “Consider this a business transaction closed. If space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Goodbye, Miss Richland.”
“Goodbye, Mister Scott.”
