His face instantly drops. “Dil, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Forget it.” I shove Jamie off. “I don’t fucking look like that prick, and this conversation is over.”
No one brings it up again.
I’m a nervous wreck the night before I’m scheduled to meet my long-lost twin and his wife at their house, replaying scenarios on a loop in my head. No matter how this goes down, I need to keep my cool so I don’t tip my twin off. This is a reconnaissance mission. Get in. Rattle them. Discover a few truths. Then retreat and plan the next stage.
As I wait in the living room of their house for them to appear, what I didn’t anticipate is the raw anger which coats me in a blanket of rage from head to toe when confronted with the evidence of their happy family or the deep-seated pain I experience having a front row seat to everything I wanted with her without even realizing it.
The room is lavishly decorated, and I spot Vivien’s input in the tasteful furnishings and fittings. Multiple framed familyphotos hang on walls around the room, each one tearing a fresh strip off my heart, especially the wedding and baby photos. Other frames house accolades Reeve has won, along with an award Vivien received for her writing on a TV show, and a few proudly display Student of the Week certificates given to Easton at his kindergarten. The floor-to-ceiling bookcase on one side of the room showcases a variety of different books and bound movie scripts. Biographies coexist with travel guides, historical tomes, romance novels, and children’s books.
Turning my back on the evidence of their happy life, I stare at the playground outside the window as I attempt to wrangle my pain back into its lockbox. My breath hitches as the door opens behind me, and I turn rigidly still. My pulse pounds in my neck, and my palms turn clammy. Blood rushes to my head, and I warn myself to get a grip just as my twin clears his throat and then says, “Hello.”
Here goes nothing.
Fixing my features into a neutral line, I turn around and face them. It’s a miracle I don’t lose my composure the second I see her. She’s as beautiful as ever with minimal makeup adorning her flawless face, her long dark hair tumbling in soft waves over almost-bare shoulders, and her tanned skin glowing with vitality in a pretty dress with thin straps that highlights her much larger stomach. She was barely showing at the Oscars, but there’s no denying she’s pregnant now. As if sensing my thoughts, Vivien’s free hand lands protectively on her bump while her other hand clings harder to her husband. I study her face, spotting confusion and then terror as the truth dawns.
As I walk towards them, I maintain my mask and keep my emotions on lockdown. I can’t give anything away, or this will all have been for nothing.
Only when I reach them do I look at my brother. It’s a lot like looking in a mirror. I’ve got a few inches in height on him, andI’m broader as well, but there’s no denying we share the same DNA. Emotions slam into the walls I’ve built around my heart, shoving and pushing, desperate to break free, but I keep them locked up tight, hardening my heart and remembering the part Reeve has played in keeping me away. Frankly, I’m surprised he agreed to meet me, though he didn’t really have a choice. Not if he wants to keep my existence a secret.
“I’m Reeve Lancaster,” he says. “And this is my wife, Vivien.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” I lie. “I’m Dillon O’Donoghue.”
Vivien almost collapses, and my every instinct is to rush to her side, but I’m forced to watch her husband fuss over her like a mother hen. Every time he touches her, I want to smash his annoying face into the wall.
“It’s been a particularly stressful time for both of us recently,” Reeve explains after getting Viv to sit down on the couch. Currently, her head is between her legs as she struggles to breathe, looking like she’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. Guilt punches through my gut until I remember the part she’s played in all this. “Stress isn’t good for the baby, and I’ve been trying to get Viv to take it easy, but she’s been worrying too much about me.”
I swallow back bile and force the next words from my mouth. “Congratulations. This is your second child, right?”
A strangled sound emits from Viv’s mouth, and Reeve rushes back to her side, suggesting she goes and lies down. I already know she’ll refuse. There’s no way she’ll risk leaving me with him. It’s blatantly obvious Reeve doesn’t know I’m Vivien’s Irish lover. I wasn’t sure coming here if he knew, but their first reactions confirmed she hasn’t shared that knowledge. It’s hugely helpful he doesn’t know. It will help me drive the dagger in deeper when the time comes.
Poor Vivien. I can only imagine the sheer terror she’s experiencing right now.
“Why do I get the feeling I know you from somewhere?” Reeve asks, pouring me a coffee after their housekeeper deposited a tray and left.
“I’m the lead singer for Collateral Damage,” I explain, accepting a mug when Reeve hands it to me.
“Yes! That’s it. We saw you perform at the Oscars in February, didn’t we, Viv?”
“We did.” The smile on her face is as fake as her husband’s obvious performance.
I’ve got to hand it to him; he’s playing the part of the clueless twin to perfection. His eagerness and childlike hope is the perfect play. If I didn’t know he was an experienced actor, I might even fall for the ruse. I’m wondering if he realizes I know he’s known all along.Is it possible Simon didn’t tell him that part?
“Congrats on your win, by the way. I loved your acceptance speech.” It’s a miracle I don’t choke on those words, like it’s a miracle I didn’t puke all over the woman in front of me at the Oscars being forced to endure that nauseating speech.
Vivien is getting paler by the second, and she looks like she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.What did she expect? That she could play me like that and there wouldn’t ever be any consequences?
Reeve continues with the charade, asking me questions about growing up in Ireland, and Viv shrinks further, pressing into his side, no doubt wishing she was invisible. Watching her clinging to him, touching him, and leaning into him for support buries the knife in my back deeper. It hurts watching them together like this, and I don’t know how much longer I can sit here and pretend this isn’t killing me. I’ve learned the things I needed to learn. Now I need to retreat and work out how to use it to my advantage. I doubt either of them will protest when I make my excuses and leave. To say things are awkwardis the understatement of the century. It’s clear they’re both uncomfortable, and I draw some satisfaction from that.
Anger flares when Reeve offers me half his inheritance.Is this how he intends to buy my silence?Wow, he really is a chip off the old block.How the fuck could Vivien have married this guy? Why can’t she see who he really is?
I lie and say I have to leave to meet the band because I need to get out of here before I say something I’ll regret. Their son bursts into the room then, and I’m rooted to the spot watching his excited, inquisitive face. He’s adorable, and he clearly loves his mommy and daddy. My walls crack, and the tenuous hold on my emotions is wavering. This is all too much, and it’s time to leave. Until little Easton drops a bomb, revealing it’s his birthday inMay, not June, and I’m leveled all over again as I frantically recalculate the maths in my head.
Oh my god.
My dazed gaze drifts to Vivien, and I see the truth she’s tried so hard to hide.
