"I hope you didn't burn the house down," says Bonnie, her voice faint.
I muster up a false chuckle. "Of course we didn't," I say, getting off the bed and pacing around the room.
"No disasters?" Kennedy asks.
I arrive at the ensuite door and push it open. In front of me is a mirror, forcing me to look at my dishevelled state. "No," I answer, watching my expression as I lie.
"Well, seeing the family was a disaster. Erin, Bon and I will give you the whole recap when we return. Although, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was. A nice break from… the beach." Kennedy's voice changes. "Anyway, I'll let you go now."
"Yep," I say. "Wait."
"Hmm?"
I glance over at Curtis, sitting on the bed and looking at his hands, politely pretending he's not eavesdropping. I enter the bathroom and let the door half close behind me.
"Liam? You there?"
"Yeah," I say, taking a deep breath.
"What is it?"
Kennedy and I have fought a lot in our eighteen years of being friends, and while some things have come close, there's nothing as awful as this. She's my best friend, and I don't want to lose her. "Actually, it's nothing. I'll tell you when you return," I say. I'm such a coward.
Kennedy doesn't respond for a second because she knows me too well to read my voice and know it isn't "nothing". Yet in the end, she lets it go. "Okay. See you soon."
After I hang up, I wash my face with cold water and rinse my mouth, which still tastes cottony from sleep. When I return to the bedroom, Curtis has made the bed, and it's neater than I would have done it. The sight has washed away the evidence of us.
"Did you say anything?" Curtis asks.
I shake my head. "No. Not over the phone."
Curtis nods in agreement.
I shift my weight. "I don't know if I can."
He stiffens.
"I don't want to lose her," I continue.
He takes a few seconds to respond. He doesn't bridge the space between us — in fact, he looks as closed off from me as he did at the beginning of these holidays.
"You have to," he says.
I drop my head so I don't have to look at his face, see the disappointment.
"What would be the alternative?" he says. "Pretend this never happened?"
I don't want that, of course, I don't. "I know I should tell her," I say.
"You need to tell her," Curtis corrects. "We need to."
I know, I know, I know. And yet the prospect makes ice run in my veins. I raise my head to look at Curtis. His expression is a mix of sadness and empathy and pain. As if I've hurt him.
It seems like an eternity passes between us. In reality, it's a few minutes.
"I'm going to go upstairs and get ready," he tells me. "You should do the same. We should tidy the house a little before they arrive."
I nod, but he doesn't see it. He's already turned away, leaving me in the room alone.
