Frowning, I fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what’s going on, but—”
“Please?” he pleads, causing my protestations to wither away on my tongue.
Sighing, I step outside, closing the front door behind me.
“You left without a word,” he says after a minute of silence.
“You know why.”
Shaking his head, he responds, “All I got was some cryptic text message about finding something in my apartment.”
“So, you go to my mother to get to me?”
“No, she came to me.”
My back straightens, and I blink, my mind trying to process this new information. “What? When?”
“Two days ago. The same day you walked out on me.”
I flinch at the accusation in his tone. I try to remind myself that walking away was the best thing for me, given what I found, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from weighing down that pivotal organ in the center of my chest.
“She came to McKenna to speak with me.”
My frown deepens, and I glance over my shoulder, remembering the conversation I had with my mother moments ago. “To talk about me?”
“To talk aboutme. She wanted to know if I am who I say I am.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“My truth.” He spreads his arms out wide. “I’m a fall down, blackout, lying drunk. But I’m recovered today. And in the last ten years, I haven’t needed to drink or behave the way I used to.”
“Is that right? Then why did I find this hidden in your condo?” Snatching the half-filled bottle of vodka out of my bag, I thrust it in his face.
Neil frowns, confused at first, before his face relaxes as if he’s realized something. He continues to stare at the bottle. I can’t recite the emotions I see passing through his gaze, but there’s something powerful that shifts when he moves his eyes up to meet mine.
“I want to show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“I can show better than I can tell. Will you come with me?” he asks, holding his hand out for me to take.
Taking a final glance over my shoulder, I look back to Neil.
“I’ll have you back to your family soon enough.”
“Fine,” I say, stepping forward but not taking his hand. My right hand is still tightly gripping the neck of the vodka bottle. It aids in me remembering why I walked out of Neil’s place two days ago. I need to feel the bottle in my hands to recall the betrayal I felt the moment I found it. I want the fear that if I didn’t leave right then and there, I’d allow myself to stay and listen to more lies to remain fresh in my mind.
Just like with Deirdre. My sister fed off of the love I had for her, and I believe if she were alive today, that she’d still have the ability to manipulate me into believing whatever she could come up with next. That’s how deeply I love—to my detriment.
But I learned from my sister’s death. I can’t let those same instincts cloud my judgment when it comes to Neil.
“We need to be back within the hour,” I insist as he holds his car door open for me.
“Fine.” He nods.
As I start to get in, I pause and ask, “You haven’t been drinking tonight, have you?” The last thing I need to do is get in the car with someone who’s been drinking.
He visibly flinches, and I feel as if I punched myself in the gut.
