Or I thought it made sense.
How was I supposed to know…that someone who looked exactly like…no, this can’t be happening.
I’m notthatfucking oblivious.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Bobby pipes in, remaining where he is and exactly as he always has been—collected, confident, and unaffected. “Easy mistake. Not even my own parents recognized who I was.”
My breath catches because this joke won’t fuck off and get lost on me.
He’sconfirmingit without saying it. He’s vaguely inflicting the truth, and that I’m an absolutemoronfor not realizing it before.
How do you not realizeyour fiancé?
How do you not know that the man who’s fucking you is not the same man who has been fucking you for over the last two years?
You knew.
Things were different.
He was different.
You just gave him excuses because you liked it.
My stomach knots, and I place my palm over the chaos brewing there. What’s done is done. I cheated on my fiancé with…what was his name?
And sincewhendoes Bobby have a twin?
A twin I don’t know. A twin thatno onethought to mention to me, the whole two years I was with Bobby.
Not once.
He’s mentioned he’s an only child. It’s something we have in common.
“Sit down, Meirna,” the lookalike Bobby orders gently. “I’ll explain everything?—”
“Whoareyou?” I clip out, allowing my anger to take center stage over my fear. I don’t know how this man can stand in front of me with zero fucks to give and no apology, but I want off this plane and answers.
“Bronte Vasiliou,” he claims evenly. “Technically, I am a Harding. But?—”
“Turn this plane around right now,” I seethe, immediately feeling sick to my stomach. “Take me back?—”
“That’s against protocol.”
Protocol?
“Now,” I demand, not giving a crap about rules and regulations right now. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing?—”
“Meirna—”
“But I have no money, and if you think getting aransomfor me was going to work, it’s not.”
“Bobby wouldn’t be able to spring it for you, even if he wanted to. He’s broke.”
My face skews because no, he’s not. “I want to go back home…now.”
Bronte Vasiliou gestures toward the couch I just rose from. “Please…sit down. I’ll explain everything.”
I shake my head because nothing he’s going to say is going to make me feel any less stupid than I do right now.
