“How did your parents meet?”
“I’m a walking dichotomy.”
“How so?”
“Dad is from one of the richest families in California and Mom grew up in one of the poorest neighborhoods in New Jersey. My grandmother was a single mom and she struggled to make ends meet for Mom and her older sister. Mom worked her tail off to become a doctor and today she’s a respected surgeon. Both my parents were attending Harvard for summer sessions in their respective fields. They were hanging out with mutual friends and the rest is history. On paper, my parents are complete opposites, but they have the most loving relationship.”
“Even as former rock stars, we don’t have that level of drama in our family and God knows my baby brother, Beckett, and I put my parents through the ringer and we’ve had our fair share of crazy mishaps. But just like your parents, Mom and Dad have an incredible relationship and they have strong ties with their siblings.”
“My dad’s rebellion and unwillingness to let his fortune and name dictate his life is one of the reasons why my mom never thought my ex was good enough for me—”
“I don’t know polo boy, but I’ll side with your mom.”
“You’d win extra points with her,” she says. “Mom is still angry at him for the way he ended our relationship and his callous timing.”
“You never finished telling me that story.”
She lets out a heavy breath.
“It’s okay if you can’t share,” I say, worried I brought up a sore subject.
She offers a small smile. “I could write a book on family drama,” she starts. She pauses and averts her gaze.
“Precious,” I reach out for her hand again. “If this hurts, we don’t have to go there.”
“The pain isn’t from Dalton, but he’s linked to it.”
That doesn’t make any sense to me, but I don’t press her.
“Remember when I told you about Sieglinde’s––Dalton’s mother––aspirations for her son?” she asks.
“I do. She had eyes on the White House.”
She responds with a smirk.
“I lived a charmed and peaceful life until, all of a sudden, my whole world shattered into a million broken pieces.” Jesus. I’m about to remind her she doesn’t have to do this, but she continues talking. “My sister Aurora was adopted. My parents couldn’t conceive, so they adopted an abandoned baby. Seven years later, my twin and I came along unexpectedly. She didn’t survive, but I did.” She closes her eyes for a fraction of a second, almost praying for strength. “After years of bad dates, Aurora decided she was doing it all wrong when she landed on a site that connected older men with younger women. She was twenty-eight and she feared she’d never get married. So, she filled out a profile on MatureMen.com. I remember her showing me tons of dubious profiles of sleazy looking men until this really good-looking guy sent her a message. A few coffee-dates and dinners later, my sister declared she’d found her perfect match. Philip Barbesky was worth all the other frogs she had to kiss before him. Mom was worried because everything was moving so fast. She kept asking Aurora if Phillip was single and if he had kids from a previous relationship. He was forty-five––”
“More often than not, it’s a reality for a lot of men in their forties.”
“Exactly. My sister assured Mom Philip was single. She’d been at his place a number of times and there were no signs of a wife or kids.”
“He wasn’t single?”
She heaves a heavy sigh. “No.” A tear trickles down her cheek. I reach out, cup her face and wipe it away with my thumb. She allows her head to fall into the palm of my hand and lowers her eyes. The pain I read on her face is heartbreaking.
“You don’t have to continue.”
She closes her hands over mine. “It’s okay. I can do this.”
“Only if you’re certain.”
She nods. “Aurora had been seeing Philip for four months and she spent nearly every weekend with him. At 4 a.m. on a Sunday, the doorbell rang and there was loud banging on the door. Groggy, my parents and I made our way downstairs. When Mom opened the door, we were stunned.” She blinks away more tears. “Three police cars were parked in front of the house. Contrary to the movies, you get a call to show up at a precinct when something tragic happens. There isn’t enough manpower for house calls. When men and women in blue show up at your door, it’s serious.”
“Your sister?”
She nods. More tears trickle down her face. “Philip was married with four kids. He lied to Aurora. He was leading a double life and his wife found out. She went apeshit crazy and murdered both of them in their sleep in Phillip’s apartment—which turned out to be an Airbnb he rented for his multiple, multiple flings.” Jesus Christ. “His wife was on the run for three days after the murders, hence the police showing up at our door. They didn’t know if the jealous wife knew where Aurora lived and if she was coming after us.”
My eyebrows hit my forehead.
Christ.
Words fail me.
Her eyes are downcast and she’s fumbling nervously with her hands.
Her tragic confession weighs heavy in the room.
After a few long seconds, she speaks again. “It was horrible. I had never experienced slashing pain like that. Aurora had always been there. Then she was gone. Forever.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She responds with a small nod as she fights more tears. “As I was dealing with this tragedy, Dalton reminded me of his political agenda.”
“What?” I’m dumbfounded. “The dipshit chose that moment in your life to talk politics?”
“They were his words, but I know they came from his mother. His breakup speech had her signature all over it.”
“What a piece of work.”
“You have no idea. My parents saw red when I told them. Right after the funeral, Dalton pulled me aside and declared he would give me some space. When I told him I needed him now more than ever, he showed his true colors.”
“What did the asshole say?”
“Scandals and the presidency don’t go hand-in-hand. He had his eyes on the prize and he couldn’t afford to be associated with me.”
“What a heartless pig,” I spit out. “The same goes for his mother.”
“Dad, who never advocates violence, wanted to strangle Dalton.”
“I don’t blame him.”
Everly lets out another long sigh. “The drama that plagued my family was only part of the reason why he broke it off. Three weeks after we laid Aurora to rest, I was aimlessly combing the streets of Boston after work hoping each step would numb my pain when I bumped into Dalton holding hands with someone I knew very well.”
“Who was it?”
“Adrienne Lambert, aka, my best friend.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath.
“Suddenly, everything made sense. She had been distant for a while. She wasn’t busy with work. She was busy stealing my boyfriend.”
“Dalton doesn’t have balls,” I say, “and as far as I’m concerned, there’s no excuse for a best friend’s betrayal.”