“Simon had a one-night stand,” she says, quietly. “Just before Christmas, the year we got married. A woman called Andrea. She worked with him.”
I stare at her. Simon, Dylan’s father? The most passive, harmless man I know? “But you’d only been married—”
“—five months.” She nods. “Yep.”
I want to say I’m sorry, but the words won’t come. So instead, I just say, “Oh. Right.”
“Simon changed jobs not long afterward. And somehow, we got through it. We went to therapy. We’re still going, actually. Although...” She trails off, looks down. “People still gossip. I overheard someone saying her name earlier, and it was all I could do not to...” She shakes her head. “But I didn’t want to cause a scene, do anything to make you think coming here today was a mistake.”
I lift the cashmere throw from my knees. It’s humid in here, the air still hot from the mini heat wave of the last few days. Or maybe it’s just the years of unspoken betrayal simmering between us. “Why... Why are you telling me this? It’s hardly the same.”
“No, but I guess I wanted to say... that good people can do awful things sometimes, Lucy.”
“I’m confused. Who’s the good person here? You? Andrea?”
She flinches slightly as I say her name. “I just mean people can make mistakes, sometimes. That’s all.”
“But you’re mysister, Tash,” I say, surprised that I’m managing to stay relatively composed. “Do you know what itmeansthat you did that to me?”
“Believe me, I do, and I’ll never stop questioning why I did what I did.” Her eyes fill with tears, her voice cracking and wobbling. “But I want you to know... I’m not going anywhere. You can be as angry as you need to be, and I’llneverstop trying to make it up to you.”
“If it wasn’t for Dylan—”
“If Dylan ends up being the only reason we stay in each other’s lives, then... well, he’s even more of an angel than I thought.”
I think about Nate, about how I’d probably never have met him if Tash and Max hadn’t got together that night. I consider telling Tash about him now—describing my experience in full and chilling detail, to make her feel even worse. She doesn’t know. I’ve never told her. Only Jools knows the truth.
But I won’t. I can’t. Somehow, I can sense that blurting it all out in bitterness wouldn’t bring me satisfaction.
“I’ve not been able to stop picturing it,” I say instead, pulling my arms tight to my body. “You and him.”
“I know,” she whispers, wiping her eyes. “I was the same, with Andrea.”
“Please don’t compare that with this. It’s different.”
She breaks my gaze, then releases a breath, rubs at an invisible mark on her ankle. “I know. Sorry.”
A silence descends, so uncomfortable it makes me feel queasy.
“Have you spoken to Max?” she asks, eventually.
“No point. I have to pick between you and him, don’t I?”
She seems to consider this for a moment. “I don’t see why.”
“Because I can’t have both of you back in my life. How exactly would that work?”
“Well—”
“Family gatherings? Exchanging presents at Christmas? Making small talk over Sunday lunch? Getting rounds in on birthdays? Come on. Be real.”
Tash leans in, the lick of her blond bob bouncing in the lamplight. “I never thought I’d be able to so much as kiss Simon again, let alone let him touch me. But over time... youcanget past stuff you thought was impossible, Luce.”
“Really? Or are you just trying to appease your own conscience?”
She swallows, hard. “Actually, nothing would appease my conscience about this. Apart from maybe the ability to turn back time.”
I find myself staring dazedly down at her perfectly pedicured feet as a breeze skirts the windows and roof, slides between the leaves of the trees.
