Chapter Twenty-Three
“Sorry I missed your call,” I say to him. “I was…”
“You were what?”
I inhale deeply. No need to be nervous. “In a session. A therapy session.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”
“I don’t know. It’s personal, I guess.”
“You mean you were ashamed.”
“No, not really. I know I have no reason to be ashamed.”
“But it’s kind of a stigma, right? The great Skye Manning should be able to fix everything herself.”
I can’t help a chuckle. “It’s scary sometimes, how well you know me.”
“I see a lot of myself in you.”
“Except, as you told me the other day, I’m not actually a master of control. Not like you are, anyway.”
“No, you’re not,” he says. “But that doesn’t make your need to be in charge any less valid.”
“I know.”
“Would it surprise you to know I’ve been to therapy?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Uh…yeah, actually. It would.”
“I have. In fact, I have a standing monthly appointment with my therapist, just to check in.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t run a billion-dollar company if I’m not mentally healthy.”
I let out a short laugh. “When you put it that way, it makes all sorts of sense.”
“When I put it that way? What other way is there to put it?”
“No other way,” I say. “Absolutely no other way. You’re right.”
“As usual.” He smirks.
Yeah, I can’t see him, but I know he’s smirking.
“Did your session help you figure things out?” he continues.
“It helped a lot, actually. I can’t say I have all the answers, but at least now I’m asking the right questions.”
“Good. That’s good, Skye. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m flying back to Boston tonight,” I tell him.
“Why?”
Why indeed? The lie I told my parents won’t fly with Braden. “I need a little distance from my parents. I found something out that has me disturbed.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not over the phone, but I can tell you that I think it has something to do with why I am the way I am.”
“Something related to the cornfield?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be home in a few days. We can talk then. Or whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Skye.”
“Bye, Braden.”
Only after I end the call do I realize something profound.
Braden didn’t pester me to tell him. Not the way I pester him about his childhood, his mother, and mostly about his relationship with Addison.
Whenever you’re ready.
I could attribute his words to any number of things. Maybe he’s busy right now, needs to get back to a meeting. Or maybe he’s at a late lunch and his food arrived. Maybe another call came in that he had to take right away.
But in my heart, I know it’s none of those things.
It’s Braden giving me time to work stuff out, to be ready to talk about certain stuff.
A luxury I never afforded him.
I will now. I’ll see Apple, but only to find out why Addie’s stalking me. I won’t ask her about Addie and Braden, and I won’t ask Braden about his mother or about Addie no matter how much I want to know.
He deserves the same respect he’s granting me.
…
I recognize Apple at once. Of course, because she’s Addie’s identical twin. At the same time, she also looks nothing like her.
Their facial features are identical, but that’s where the resemblance ends. Apple’s hair is jet black now, obviously a dye job, as she and Addie are naturally blond. Her dark tresses are wound into a French braid that drapes over her left shoulder a la Katniss Everdeen. Apple has two nose rings and a lip ring, and black stars are tattooed around her left eye. She dresses similarly to Betsy except for the colors. Her peasant blouse and boho skirt are dark gray and black, respectively. Her fingernails and toenails are painted black as well, but her Birkenstocks are dark brown.
She’s the anti-Addie, and it makes me want to chuckle.
She approaches as I stand at the carousel waiting for my suitcase. “Skye?”
“That’s me.” I hold out my hand. “How are you, Apple?”
“Hanging.” She takes my hand and gives it a hard shake.
I spy my black bag and grab it.
“Come on,” Apple says. “I’m parked in the economy lot. You want me to take the bag?”
“No valet?” I can’t help asking.
She scoffs. “That’s Addie, not me. I don’t believe in spending money just because I can.”
I smile. Definitely the anti-Addie. “I can handle the bag, but thanks.” I follow her to the parking lot where we take a long walk to her—I kid you not—VW Beetle. Lime green VW Beetle, at that. Not black.
I’m beginning to really like Apple Ames.
She unlocks the trunk and opens it, and I place my suitcase inside.
“I thought we’d hit a bar and have a quick drink,” she says. “Somewhere public.”
Man, she really is worried about Addie’s ears. “Okay. It’s early yet.”
Somehow we end up at a small pub on the edge of Swampscott, the suburb where Bobby Black lives. I don’t mention that. Apple probably knows anyway.
The bar is kind of a dive, but it’s quiet. We snag a small table in the back, and after a server takes our order, Apple starts talking.
“I know Addie’s been warning you away from Braden Black,” she says.
“Oh?”
“Are you kidding? I know her MO. She’s been obsessed with him for over ten years.”
“Is it true she stalked him?”
Apple laughs. “Stalked? That’s a pretty tame word for what she did.”
“What word would you use then?”
“Ambush is more like it.”
My heart nearly stops. “What do you mean?”
“After he dumped her—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I say. Curiosity is killing me, but I can’t hear anymore. “I get that she was shaken and all, but I really don’t want to—”
“Shaken?” Apple fiddles with one of the many rings she’s wearing on her fingers. “Addie wasn’t shaken. Unless you mean shaken to the core by his rebuff.”
“O…kay. That’s not how I heard it.”
The server brings our drinks, and Apple takes a sip of her club soda. “Not surprising. There are only three people in the world who know what really happened. Addie, Braden, and me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there, Skye. I was there.”