“Ew, no!” It’s my turn to jump up and ball my hands into fists. “She was there getting her mother’s stuff. Libby and Dad were secretly living there together. For years.”
“Mom is going to kill her,” she breathes.
“Libby’s already dead,” I explain, raking my hands through my hair. “Just listen to the rest of the story, please, and stop jumping to conclusions.” I blow out a quick breath. “Claire had no idea about them. She hasn’t seen her mother in years, she barely ever spoke to her.”
Chloe gave me a doubtful glare.
“I’m pretty positive she was telling me the truth,” I stammer loudly.
“Yeah, right,” she scoffs.
“Do you know after what happened that night, she was sent away from her family? She didn’t see them at all. And when she got out and went back home, she had no home? Remember how everyone promised her jobs? She had all those internships lined up…She came here and tried to get a job, and no one here would give her one because of what people said about her and her mother.”
“Yeah, of course I remember that. Mom had the entire staff at the country club sign a waiver to never allow Libby Radcliffe to be able to step foot inside again. But her mother did that to herself, Vaughn. She ruined our family. You remember what happened to Mom after she found out about the affair, how sick and depressed she got?”
“Yes, I know what she went through, but Claire was the one who suffered for everything Libby and Dad did, Chloe. Claire couldn’t step foot in the club either. She was eighteen and homeless. She couldn’t even get a job stocking shelves at the grocery store in town because no one wanted to go against Mom.”
“So what?” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “They tore our parents’ marriage apart!”
“Libby did, not Claire!” I shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Her mother abandoned her for our father, and her father disowned the both of them. She’s been on her own since that night.” I squeezed her shoulders tighter, wanting her desperately to understand. “How could you think Dad was so innocent? Do you think he was somehow tricked into having the affair? Chloe, come on. He…” it was still hard for me to say, but it had to be the truth, “he loved her.” Claire was right, it couldn’t be any other way.
Chloe’s gaze drops to the floor.
“And Claire suffered so much more than we did. She sold her eggs and plasma to put herself through school. Even now, she lives in a shitty little row-house apartment in the worst neighborhood. And she works her ass off.”
“Don’t talk about her like she’s human, Vaughn. She and Libby were manipulators, and they were always after our family’s money!”
“No, you need to stop. You need to stop idolizing a father who never deserved it and start thinking about the friend who needed you, when she found out the same thing we did at the same exact moment.”
“She knew,” Chloe hisses, pointing a finger at me, “I told you that night. Claire wanted to talk to me about something serious and we never got the chance. She was going to tell me about the affair.”
“No, she wasn’t. She was going to tell you—to see if you were okay with us being together. She wanted to tell you she was in love with me.” Fuck my life. This is killing me. We could have been together all these years. Why can’t Chloe understand? Why can’t she see the truth?
Her back straightens and her eyes turn into saucers. “Oh my God! You’re sleeping with her?” she screams.
“Chloe, just listen to me—”
“No. You’re just like Daddy! If you’re sleeping with her, that’s it. You’ll believe everything she tells you,” she accuses.
“Chloe. Think about it. Our parents never loved each other. They got married because Mom got pregnant with us.”
“So what? He did the right thing back then.”
“Chloe, that house was full of pictures of them laughing together, there’s not one piece of photographic evidence of a family in this house! Libby and Dad loved each other, and they had to hide it all those years,” I explain.
“I won’t believe that,” she says, shaking her head.
“Chloe, Libby Radcliffe killed herself because she couldn’t live after he died, she didn’t take all his money and live it up, she gave up everything and she chose to follow him into the afterlife. She didn’t even say goodbye to her daughter, she just couldn’t live without him.”
“Is that what Claire told you?” she sneers.
“She saved my life up there, we were in an avalanche and she dragged me inside. She could have left me out there to die. She asked for nothing in return,” I try to explain.
“Again, so what?” she gripes.
“She missed me, she missed you, and you,” I point to Matteo. His cheeks turn bright red. “Remember how much we loved her, Chloe?” I ask, turning back to face her. “Remember how you used to plan your weddings, how we made pillows forts and how we’d spend all winter anticipating hot summer nights with her? Try and remember, don’t let the hurt and humiliation of that night blur your reality of how close we all were. I get it, Chloe. I get not wanting to believe her and wanting to believe Dad, but he was the one who wronged us. All of us. I am so angry at him, not just for cheating on our mother, but he took my girlfriend away from me. He could have slept with anyone, but he chose the love of my life’s mother. I hated him for that then. I hate him for that now.”
“I’m sorry, Vaughn. I won’t ever forgive that family,” Chloe says, walking to the door. “And I think you’re a fool to think Claire Radcliffe isn’t the same kind of woman as her mother.” Chloe leaves, quietly closing the door behind her.
I turn to Matteo for some kind of help or encouragement, but he just stares at me with sad eyes. “I think I’m with Chloe on this, Vaughn. We don’t know who Claire Radcliffe is today. And I think you should stay far away from her, nothing good is going to come out of any of this.”
Chapter 20
Claire
Around me the apartment goes silent, all except for the soft sounds of something being dragged or brushed against something in my bedroom. My pulse is racing, I can hear the rushing and thumping of the blood through my ears. I want to run but my boots are cemented to the floor. Whoever is in my bedroom has already heard me scream and the thought of turning my back on the bedroom door to go out the front one is too terrifying of an idea to me. All the hairs on the back of my neck raise up and my skin starts to crawl.
I slip my phone out of my pocket and hit the emergency button without even bothering to open my phone. I hold the phone in my left hand and with my right, pick up my long-handled umbrella that’s been tossed into the mess on the floor. It’s the closest thing to me that I could use as a weapon until I can get to my knife drawer.
The noise continues. It’s a hushed sound, almost rhythmic. Muffled, like someone is gently sweeping fabric over a surface again and again. I’m holding my phone at my side so I can listen carefully to whoever is here with me. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” I hear a low disembodied voice ask.