The Lie

  Meanwhile, Lachlan keeps glancing between Natasha and me, deep in thought.

  “And when did you and Brigs officially meet?” Lachlan says to her.

  She glances at me. “Four years ago.” He raises his brows. “I came up here, working at a short film festival during the summer and he came in to apply to be a sponsor. Then I ran into him at school this year and I remembered him.”

  Such the truth. Such a lie.

  “So you’re his student?” my mother squeaks, already having scandal written all over her delicate face.

  “No,” I say quickly. I clear my throat. “She’s not in any of my classes.”

  “Pretty sure that’s a dicey area though, son,” my dad says.

  Right. All this time we were worried about our real past together, we never thought to worry about the real present.

  “We’ll be okay,” I tell him imploringly, splaying my hands in a sign of surrender.

  My dad doesn’t look too convinced. “Not that I’m trying to tell you who to date because believe me, we would never do that. Just be careful. Both of you.”

  “We will,” Natasha says, nodding gravely. “We are.”

  “And how long have you both been dating?” Lachlan asks, still on his nosy trip.

  I can’t help but glare at him. “A few weeks now.”

  “Really?” Kayla exclaims. “God. Sorry.” She laughs and looks at Natasha. “This must be so awkward for you meeting the family already.”

  “It wasn’t awkward until two seconds ago,” Natasha says good-naturedly. She’s smooth. She’s good. Rolling along with everything even though I know it’s killing her to put up such a front.

  “Oh, don’t worry, it’s still awkward for me,” Kayla says. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve embarrassed myself in front of Jessica and Donald. Still, they don’t mind having me around.”

  “We love having you around, Kayla dear,” Jessica says. “And when you smeared nail polish all over the wedding dress you were trying on, well, how could I do anything but laugh.”

  “It seems to me the sales assistant didn’t think it was that funny,” Donald says under his breath.

  “That seems like the kind of thing that would happen to me,” Natasha tells Kayla, trying to relate. “Once I was in Rome, backpacking and seeing the sights for a few days, and I was wearing a dress because it was hot and summer and all that. Well, I took the train to the airport and got up, slung on my backpack and walked all the way out of the train, through to the terminal and then onto one of the moving sidewalk thingies. It’s like a ten minute journey at least. The whole time I had this feeling people were snickering at me and laughing, but I mean I’m super paranoid anyway so that’s nothing new. Anyway, finally some girl tapped me on the shoulder—and she was American of all things—and she was like, “I’m not sure anyone is going to tell you this, but your ass is showing.” Turns out that when I put on my backpack, it hiked up my dress to my waist and I was wearing nothing but a fucking thong.”

  I burst out laughing, as does everyone else, since I’d never heard this little gem before.

  “Good thing you have a bloody gorgeous arse!” I tell her, slapping my knee. I can imagine her too, strutting through the Rome airport like it’s her runway with no idea that her full cheeks are exposed to the world.

  With Natasha’s admission, everyone seems to relax even more, Lachlan included. While Kayla launches into an embarrassing story of her own, I catch Natasha’s eye and give her a wink.

  Fucking hell, am I ever in love.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Brigs

  It isn’t until after dinner and dessert, when everyone is settling down in the TV room to have some tea and watch Graham Norton on the BBC, that I run into Lachlan in the kitchen.

  “She used to have dark hair,” he says, sidling up to me as I grab some honey for Natasha.

  I close the cupboard and stare at him, my heartrate increasing. “What?”

  “Natasha,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Her hair used to be dark.”

  I stare at him, blinking slowly, and he stares right back at me, his eyes narrow, knowing too much and still wanting to know more.

  “It did,” I tell him, wondering what’s going on.

  “I’ve met her before.”

  I shake my head. “How? When?”

  “At the pub Rennie used to work at. Years ago. Four years ago, I’m pretty sure.”

  I frown. “Are you sure? No offense, brother, but you, four years ago, in a pub, isn’t the most reliable source.”

  He straightens his shoulders, running his hand over his jaw as his eyes dart to the other room. He nods. “Yeah. I know. You would think. But I remember that night. I remember a lot more than you’d think. And I remember that girl because I gave her some pretty sound advice that would take me a long time to take in myself.” He glances at me sharply. “Natasha isn’t someone you forget so easily. She was there, upset, and I was right next to her. We drank on the house and Rennie kept pouring.” He pauses. “She told us that she was in love with a married man.”

  I swallow and try to keep my face from flinching, but from the way Lachlan’s eyes narrow imperceptibly I know he sees right through me.

  “Is that so?” I whisper.

  “She said he was writing a book. Was a professor of film studies. I thought it the strangest coincidence at the time. But I never thought it was you. Not until I walked in that door over there and saw her beside you. And then it all fell into place.”

  He’s got me. Completely.

  I lick my lips. “Do you think she remembers you?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “But she was pretty drunk. She went home in a cab that night.”

  “What was the advice you gave her?”

  He gives me a ghost of a smile. “I told her to be a catalyst for change.”

  Catalyst for change.

  That’s what Natasha wrote in her drunken email to me, the email that opened the gates, that led to that first kiss, the first confessions, the first everythings.

  Bloody fucking hell. That all happened because of Lachlan.

  “So was she?” he asks. “A catalyst for change? Is that what happened? You had an affair with her.”

  I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I didn’t expect to be talking about this with my brother, not this way and not yet. “I didn’t have an affair with her. Not a physical one.”

  “And you told Miranda. That’s what you argued about the night she died.”

  I exhale heavily and meet his eyes. “Yes. That’s what it was about. Don’t you see? It wasn’t just an argument. I was trying to end my marriage. And if I hadn’t done that, she would still be alive.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that,” he says, his tone surprisingly sharp. “Don’t try and wallow in that again. You’ve done enough of it. You don’t let me sink into my mistakes and I’m not going to let you sink into yours. I’ve said you looked haunted by what you’ve done. Well, guess what. You don’t look haunted now. You look like you’re bloody in love. Let the wallowing go—it’s comforting to hold on to the darkness, I know this. It gives you identity. It gives you purpose. But you’re finally getting out of it. Allow yourself to be happy.”

  I look away and he puts his hand on my shoulder, staring at me. “Hey,” he says louder. “I’m not kidding. Did you think I wouldn’t understand, that I would judge you, that I would want to push you back into that spot we’ve all been dying for you to come out of? Fuck that. I’m your family, Brigs. I don’t care if you and Natasha have known each other for years or days. I just want you to be happy. That’s all anyone ever wants for you, and it’s what you should want for yourself too.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Kayla asks, coming around the corner. When she sees his hand on my shoulder and the grave looks on our faces, she stops. “I’m totally interrupting something, aren’t I?”

  “It’s fine, love,” Lachlan says, putting his arm out for her. She comes over a
nd leans against him, staring up at me. “Brigs and I were just talking about women.”

  “Good things, I hope.”

  “Then we definitely weren’t talking about you,” he jokes.

  “Hey,” she says, going for his chest with her pointy fingers and squeezing his nipple.

  Lachlan buckles over, letting out what sounds like a giggle and a squeal, a sound I’ve never heard him emit before. Had I known all along nipple pinching was his kryptonite, I could have made some money selling this information to opposing teams.

  “Anyway,” Kayla says, finally letting Lachlan go. “I just wanted to tell you that Natasha is fucking amazing.”

  “Well, good. I think so too.”

  “No, I mean it,” she says. “I hate to say this, but I’m starting to look at you like my brother now. Weirdly secretive and strange, but still my brother, and before I met her I had some reservations. I mean, what girl is going to be good enough for you?” She elbows Lachlan. “Right, baby?”

  He grunts in response and she continues, “But now I’m starting to think that maybe you’re not good enough for her.”

  “Kayla,” Lachlan warns her.

  She smiles at me. “I’m just kidding, Brigs. But really. You’ve done good. And I mean it. Because I hate everyone.”

  “Oh, you don’t say?” I say caustically.

  “It’s true. My only complaint is that the two of you are in London and I am up here. Doesn’t make for easy girl times. Like when Lachlan acts like a jerk and I need a friend to braid my hair while I eat a tub of ice cream.”

  “Yeah, that sure sounds like Lachlan.” I give him a look and roll my eyes.

  She leaves the kitchen after that, taking the honey to Natasha, and before we head back, Lachlan says to me, “I’m not going to say anything to Kayla. I’m not going to say anything to Jessica and Donald. I’m leaving that all up to you. I just want you to know that no one is going to think anything less. Of either of you. But you can’t keep this inside forever. You’ve kept it inside for long enough.”

  He walks away, and I’m left in the kitchen wondering how a rugby player got so much smarter than a professor.

  Later that evening, when it’s time to turn in, me in my old bedroom, Natasha in Lachlan’s, I knock at her door.

  “Are you decent?” I whisper.

  “No,” she says. I smile, looking down the hall to the shut door of my parents’ room before walking in.

  She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, flipping through an old magazine.

  “Hey,” I say, disappointed. “You’re completely decent.”

  “Oh,” she says. “I thought you meant in general.”

  “Well, that too.” I close the door and sit on the bed beside her. “Sorry this couldn’t have been a bit more romantic. I barely fit on the bed myself.”

  She gives me a delicate smile, placing her hand on mine. “It’s lovely. It’s nice to be in a house where you can feel the warmth, you know?” She scrunches up her nose. “So how do you think I did?”

  “With my family, are you kidding? You were incredible. They loved you.”

  “You sure? One moment I’m trying to be all proper and the next I’m telling them that my ass was hanging out at the Rome airport.”

  I squeeze her hand, grinning. “That story only endeared them to you. And you further to me. I’m a bit jealous of that airport, to be honest.”

  “You can see my ass at any time,” she points out. “In fact, my ass belongs to you and you alone.”

  “Oh really?” I raise my brow. “Can we get that down in writing at some point?”

  “So they really liked me?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “Just as I knew they would. How could anyone not be as charmed by you as I am?”

  “Well, my mother for one,” she says, looking away.

  “Your mother doesn’t count. Your own family is always complicated. But I bet even your mother thinks you’re marvelous deep down. Just as everyone else does.”

  “Do you think Lachlan liked me?”

  “I know he did.” I peer at her inquisitively. “Did you recognize him in any way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve met him before.”

  “I have?” She shakes her head. “I would have remembered. When?”

  “You were in a pub, so I don’t think you would have remembered. I’m surprised he does, but that’s how much of an impression you leave on people.”

  “Oh my god. I met him at a pub. What did he say, did he talk to you about it just tonight?”

  I nod. “He says you were drunk and upset. About four years ago, here in Edinburgh. You confessed you were in love with a married man to him and the bartender, Rennie, who used to be on his rugby team. I believe Lachlan gave you some advice, saying you needed to be—”

  “A catalyst for change,” she whispers. “I remember now, though I can’t really see his face. I just remember talking and getting that liquid courage. Then I remember writing the email and you came over, and…then I kissed you.” She looks down at the duvet.

  “Hey,” I say softly, hunching over to see her better. “I hope you don’t regret that. I certainly don’t.”

  “I was out of line. I should have never said those things, and I should have never kissed you.”

  “Well, in that way of thinking, I should have never gone over to your flat. But I wanted to see you. I needed to see if you felt the same way that I felt about you. I don’t regret a thing. Not me going over there, not you kissing me. It is what it is, and guess what, you were a catalyst and things did change.”

  She swallows hard. “Not all change is good,” she says in a low voice.

  “Natasha,” I warn her. “I told you that we’re done with feeling guilty. I can’t move on, move past this, without you moving with me. We’re a team, you know that. I want us to discuss what was without feeling any guilt or shame. It’s the only way.”

  She nods, and I hope it’s sunken in. I know it isn’t easy, but it’s really the only chance we have.

  “Kayla’s really nice,” she says after a moment, her voice perking up. “A total firecracker. At first it was hard to see that she and your brother are together—they both seem so different. But it’s obvious how in love with each other they are.”

  Is it obvious how much I’m in love with you? I think. I reach out and brush her hair away from her face, but the words, those words, are stuck in my throat, just where they have been for weeks. I’ve said them in the past and meant it, and yet now, now in this new phase of us, my feelings are even deeper. They surpass everything at the moment and render those three words nearly obsolete.

  She stares at me with big doe eyes, her lower lip pouting, wet and soft. I want to show her how I feel—I just wish we were somewhere else except my parents’ house. Not that it’s ever stopped me before.

  I get up off the bed and lock the door, slowly turning around to face her.

  Her brows are raised and she’s eyeing me like, are we really going to do this here?

  I smirk at her, slowly peeling off my shirt as I walk toward her, then I undo my pants.

  She doesn’t look too thrilled. Not the reaction I was hoping for.

  I slip my erection out of my boxer briefs, holding the hard stiff length of it in my hands.

  She licks her lips, the pink tip of her tongue showing briefly.

  Okay, that was more like the reaction I was hoping for.

  “Are you sure?” she asks quietly as I step toward her, still stroking my cock, getting off on the way she keeps her eyes glued there. I watch the hunger slowly build which only makes me harder.

  I nod. “If you can be quiet,” I whisper to her. “Can you be quiet? Not make a sound?”

  She seems to take this as a worthy challenge. Her expression becomes more wanton and she nods. She slips off her pajamas until she’s on her knees on the bed, completely naked.

  I come over to the edge and she’s already running her tongu
e up my cock, from root to tip.

  She pauses. “So, Lachlan knows the truth about us? And he’s okay with it?”

  I groan. “Please don’t mention my brother’s name when you have your hand around my cock.” I smile down at her. “But yes, he’s okay. He’s not telling anyone else, and in due time, when we do tell the truth, at least we know what to expect.”

  She seems satisfied with that and finally throws herself into it, swirling her tongue over my hard shaft before licking up the precum at my tip. It’s funny how sometimes her mind holds her back from enjoying sex, like it can’t stop wandering enough to root down and live in the moment, even when the moment is in her damn mouth.

  I let her lick and suck for a moment, just because I love the look in her eyes, the blazing need for something so sexual. But before she gets too carried away, I pull back and motion for her to move over. I lie back on the bed and beckon her forward with my finger.

  “Come over here,” I tell her softly, gesturing to my face. “Right here.”

  Again she looks shocked. She doesn’t move, seeming unsure.

  “What, you’re afraid you can’t be quiet?” I tease.

  “Of course I can,” she says and slowly straddles my chest, making her way up to my face.

  I take a firm hold of her hips and position her cunt right over my mouth. With deliberation I snake out my tongue and carefully run it up and down her wet folds. She immediately stiffens and cries out softly, and I dig my fingers into her skin, to warn her again about being loud, to have control over her movements.

  She tastes so good, her musky, rich scent filling me up and turning me on like never before, and as I work her with my tongue, greedily plunging it inside her and flicking it over her swollen clit, I’m the one who has a hard time keeping quiet.

  The vibrations from my mouth seem to work for her though, and soon she’s rocking her hips against my face as I eat her out. I’m lost in this heady desire, enjoying every fucking sensation. This is raw, wicked, primal, a way of experiencing a woman at her purest self. I could do it forever, sucking up every last drop of her, licking her like the sweetest, ripest fruit.