“Are you still in love with her?”
“I told you, I’m marrying Sasha,” Tom snapped. “Now can we talk about something else? I’ve told you about Ari. Let’s talk about another topic. The wedding planners, I know I missed them. Were they okay or not?”
Marnie gave an ugly laugh, shaking her head at Tom incredulously. “Trust me,” she muttered. “You don’t want to talk about the wedding planners.”
“Fine,” Tom retorted sharply. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t want to talk about the wedding planners. Sasha can have whatever she wants — whatever makes her happy. I don’t give a shit. I don’t care.”
“Because you don’t really care about Sasha,” Marnie added blandly, and Tom felt a jolt of anger run through him.
“Don’t do that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Why not?” Marnie shrugged. “As today has proven, you never tell me anything. I might as well fill in the blanks for myself.”
“I told you about Ari,” Tom said again. “There isn’t anything else to add.”
Marnie stared at him. “Except that somehow you lost her.”
Once again, Tom’s hands clenched. “Yeah. I did. But that’s my business. You asked about Ari. I told you all you need to know. Why we ended things—”
“You mean why you left her,” Marnie interjected, and Tom’s eyes snapped at once to hers.
“How did you know I left?” he asked, his voice full of suspicion.
“I told you, it isn’t about what I know,” Marnie stared at him for a long moment. “Did you try and go back for her? Ever?”
Tom took a deep breath, an old painful memory rising to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he whispered, his voice broken. “Mom, please, let’s talk about something else—”
But Marnie was unrelenting. “Did you ever try and go back for her?”
Tom nodded bleakly. “Yeah. I did. Two years after I left her in Germany. I tracked her down. Searched every Lightowlerlisting I could find in South-East England. Know where I found her? She was in London, in this — this fucking upmarket apartment in a good part of the city. She was doing well for herself,” he sneered. “She’d gone up in the world since me.”
“You sound bitter,” Marnie remarked, her words cutting.
“I was bitter.”
“Are you still bitter?” Marnie asked sharply.
“Of course not,” Tom retorted. “I have Sasha, don’t I? And Ari has her baby and her perfect—”
At his words, Marnie was on her feet, her knitting falling to the floor with a loud clatter. She was pale, each breath a snarl, her fists as clenched as Tom’s. She was livid, Tom realised.
“Do you mean to tell methat you knew about the baby?”
“Yeah,” Tom muttered. “I knew about the baby.”
For a moment, Marnie stared down at him. There was real anger in her eyes. Tom felt a sliver of unease run through him.
“Mom—”
Marnie shook her head. “I don’t think I can be around you right now. I don’t think I can even look at you.”
She picked up her bag and turned on her heel. Tom sat up, staring at her retreating form.
“Mom!” he shouted. “What the actual fuck? Why do you care about Ari and her baby?”
As soon as he’d spoken the words out loud, a thought came to him, so horrifying and unbelievable he felt panic rise in his blood.
“Mom!” he yelled louder. “You’ve got it all wrong! The baby isn’t mine!”
