“And maybe you had a reason. Maybe I had a reason. I didn’t always like him either. But I did love him. I still do.”
Ilena places an arm around Aubrey’s shoulder. “And you should. You’re also right. We haven’t been there for you, not the way you deserved. That ends now.”
Even though it was Mallory’s idea not to, in this moment, she wants to tell Aubrey everything. About AIM’s “error” and the alternate reality and, especially, their role in Ethan’s death. Doing so feels both right and wrong. Sorting that out means looking into the eyes of the woman who has been her barometer for more than half her life. But Ilena’s expression lives firmly in the in-between. And so Mallory does the one thing she knows without question is right.
She takes Aubrey’s hand. “Ethan’s death is not your fault. If you’ve ever trusted me on anything, trust me on that.”
There’s so much more to say, so many secrets still tying them together and pulling them apart, but as the clock hits nine thirty and cheers echo throughout AIM, they stand, ready to face everything together. Because secrets can destroy friendships. Especially when they’re told.
52
Ilena
Four WeeksBeforethe Outing
This would destroy their friendship. If Mallory knew where Ilena was and what she was about to do, the past twenty-one years wouldn’t matter.
Ilena stared at the “If at first you don’t succeed, don’t try skydiving” graffiti on the wall of the ladies’ restroom and sipped her Scotch. Neat. The Scotch and the graffiti. It was one of those bars that left Sharpies on the shelf above the feeding trough sink beside free tampons and temporary tattoos and butterscotch-flavored condoms.
She hadn’t been to a place like this in years. That she was here now was entirely Mallory’s fault. When Mallory had come to her a few days ago with the discovery of the computer error, Ilena had thought they’d see the same solution—the only solution. But Mallory’s refusal to even consider postponing the direct listing was reckless. What right did Mallory have to be the final say on their company?
Ilena felt like she’d swallowed a book of matches, each one lighting and burning a hole in her gut. Did she share the blame? Because of what she’d let Mallory get away with in the past?Ilena might not have always liked Mallory’s methods, but she couldn’t deny the enjoyment that came with reaping the benefits. But this surpassed anything Mallory had done so far, even forcing Ilena to attend the “dinner party” in that San Francisco mansion, knowing full well that it was actually a weekend-long “cuddle puddle,” with all the caviar and MDMA you could want. But there were investors. The tech elite. And that was all that had mattered.
Ilena was done. If Mallory wouldn’t listen to reason, she wouldn’t have a company anymore. Ilena finished her Scotch and set the empty glass beside a plastic model of a boob that purported to show women how to do a breast self-exam. She reapplied her lipstick and set out to meet Ethan.
Ethan’s hand flattened against the table. “The satisfaction in seeing the glamazon Ilena beg is more than I could have imagined. Give me your hand, I’ll show you.”
Bile billowed, and acid from the Scotch seared her throat. “That wasn’t begging,” she said, keeping her tone even.
“Something to look forward to, then.” He lifted a finger, cocking it like a fake gun that he aimed at the bartender. “Drink? Let me guess, pinot grigio?” He slapped the table. “Fuck that, you’re a sweet Riesling girl.”
She swallowed her revulsion. “Are you buying?”
“Sure, my hard-on and I owe you.”
Without a beat: “Pinot noir from the reserve list.”
“Got it.” When a server came to their table, he said, “House red, merlot if you’ve got it, two of them.”
“Dick,” Ilena muttered.
“Careful there, babe. Your negotiation skills are starting to show why Mallory’s in charge.”
“Don’t babe—”
His lips lifted into a smirk. He was goading her. “Though isshe, really? What with Grayson Fields behind her. Or is it on top? Underneath?”
Her disgust at this man-child who was the type to leave the seat up on an airplane mixed with her desire to defend and protect Mallory, which was the exact opposite of the reason she was here. She’d been doing it for so long, it was ingrained.
“I’m wasting your time.” Ilena started to exit the booth. “I should go.”
Ethan’s arm crept out, and he laid his index finger against the back of her hand. “Not yet. You can’t just ask me to manipulate my girlfriend and—”
“Fiancée, and not manipulate.”
“That depends on your perspective.”
“For which?”
