“I don’t get it. Wh—”
“I’m telling you I killed them, Care.”
Liquid catches at the back of her throat, and I think it’s the tea until I realize she’s choking on her own saliva. I get up, pat her back. She leaps up and away at my touch, and the air beneath my fingers turns icy at the absence of her.
“What thefuck, Natty? What are you talking about?”
No matter how much I want to retract it, I can’t take it back. “I don’t know how else to say it. I killed Marc and Luca.” And speaking these words out loud for the first time is a huge weight off my chest. Despite the horror on Claire’s face, eyes wide, mouth agape, I feel relief.
She steadies her hands on the counter. “Jesus Christ! You wouldn’t. I mean, how?”
My palms itch. “I’m not sure the details matter.”
Her mouth hangs open. I encourage her to sit back down, tell her as much as I can. By the time I’m finished speaking, Claire’s head is in her hands.
“What the hell, Natty? This is…I mean, talk about dropping a nuclear bomb.” She rubs her eyes, sits up, looks to the ceiling, looks to me, casts her eyes back down. “Wine. I need fucking wine,” she says. “Do you have some?”
I stand, pause. The smooth counter is cool under my palms. “We do, just…I can’t quite stomach red anymore. Is white okay?”
Understanding flickers across her eyes and she nods. “Yeah, of course.”
I uncork a bottle and as the wine pours, so does everything I’ve wanted to say to her over the past few months. We spend a lot of time chewing over my relationships with Marc and Luca at first, Claire asking questions, frozen panic on her face.
“You’re not going to report me, are you?” I ask.
She scoffs. “But, Natty…” She squeezes my hand and gives me a nervous look. “…I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” My grip on her hand tightens, desperate for reassurance. “We’re ride or die, right? I mean, you always said you’d help me bury a body, no questions asked.”
Wine slips into the wrong stream on the way down. She splutters again. “That’s just something people say, Natty.”
“I know.”
“I guess there’s no actual body you’re asking me to bury, so thanks for sparing me that much.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“And Emily…” She taps her phone screen to bring it to life, the time glaring up at her. “Does she…I mean, I assume you haven’t told her.”
“Of course not.”
“And are you going to?”
I pause, bite my lip, shake my head. “No. No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Agreed.”
There’s a hesitant smile in her eyes, but it’s genuine, and it melts some of the tension. She can see me faltering, my energy dropping; she knows we can’t talk about this anymore tonight.
I double-tap my own phone screen to assess the time for myself. “Where is Emily anyway?”
A new message is waiting for me.
So sorry, babe, but I’m not sure I’ll get out of these drinks in time to make it. It was really nice to hear from you, though. Let’s get a catch-up bev in, just you and me, yeah? xx
The disappointment shouldn’t be so crushing.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” I say.
