43. a perfect wave

43

A PERFECT WAVE

The afternoon before Christmas Eve, Kinsey, Nix, and I head to the Santa Monica's Third Street Promenade for shopping and to sit on Santa's lap—because we're only pretending to be well-adjusted adults. After twenty minutes in line, however, I'm as miserable as the screaming kids who don't want to sit on a strange, bearded man's lap.

"Whose idea was this?" I grumble, wincing at a particularly shrill scream.

"Come on," Nix cajoles, "don't give up! We're starting new traditions."

Kinsey looks between us, weighing Nix's excitement with my angst. She gives Nix a kiss and takes my arm. "Mia and I are going to grab some hot chocolate. We'll be right back. Text me if you get near the front of the line."

"Okay, babe." He points a finger at me. "No bailing."

I laugh. "Fine, fine."

Escaping the press of stressed parents and traumatized toddlers, we beeline for the nearby Starbucks. I can already taste a peppermint hot chocolate, and from Kinsey's eager steps, her sweet tooth rivals mine. The atmosphere is festive, the air cool and sun mellow, and despite an undercurrent of holiday anxiety, the mood of the crowd is celebratory. It reminds me powerfully of my childhood, of holding my mom's hand as we munched on candy canes and shopped for last-minute gifts for Dad and Jameson.

Thinking about her, I feel something I haven't in decades—the insulation and safety of her presence, the cocoon of her unconditional love. Hot, heavy emotion fills my chest and prickles behind my eyes.

Hi, Mom. I miss you.

Lost in my private communion with the memory of my mother, I don't immediately notice when Kinsey stops. Only when her grip on my arm yanks me back does my awareness snap into the present.

"What the hell, Kins?" I glance swiftly around, then at her face. Her expression is pinched, the color gone from her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Ten o'clock," she says stiffly.

I follow the path of her gaze to the small patio outside Starbucks. People pass across my line of vision, giving me brief, startlingly clear glimpses of three men occupying a corner table. One man laughs, the other two grimace. All three gesture, conversing in a light, familiar way. Like they've known each other for years.

It doesn't make sense.

None of it makes sense.

Everything slows and dims—the crowds, the noise, the music from a nearby busker. Even the twinkling of Christmas lights on stores and lamp poles fade away.

Kinsey's face floats before mine, her eyes wide and concerned. "Mia? What do you want me to do?"

My fingers curl, the woven strap of a shopping bag digging into my palm. In the bag is a last-minute gag gift for Jameson and goodies for Leo's and Vincent's stockings.

I swallow. Focus on Kinsey's face. "Leo," I rasp, my eyes jerking back to him.

As though speaking his name ignites dark magic, Leo's eyes suddenly find me amidst the crowd. They widen. His olive skin goes ashen. Despite the chaos of sound around us, I hear the metal-on-cement scrape of his chair as he stands fast. The chair falls, clashing against iron railings. The other two men jerk, half-rising, both of them talking at once.

"Why is your brother having coffee with Leo?" growls Kinsey. "And more importantly, what the actual fuck is your ex-fiancé doing with them?"

My lips are cold. "I-I don't know."

Leo scrambles around tables, angling for the exit of the patio and, presumably, me. Jameson looks around wildly and finally sees me. My twin's lips shape my name, his features collapsing into lines of misery.

"Amelia!" shouts Leo.

Eyes blazing, Kinsey snaps, "Go back to Nix and tell him we're leaving. I'll meet you at the car. Go, Mia!"

Grateful beyond words for the direction, I go, running on numb feet back toward the line for Santa. Nix sees me coming, his welcoming smile instantly falling. Wheezing for air, I stumble into his arms.

"Nine-one-one. We have to go," I pant. "Kinsey will meet us at the car."

He's instantly alert and ready for violence. "Is she safe?" he snaps.

I nod. "Completely. She'll be right behind us."

"All right." He scans my face. "Do we need to run?"

I think of Leo as I last saw him, distraught and pushing toward me.

"Yes," I say shrilly. "Yes, please."

So we run.

Hindsight is everything, isn't it?

Late that night, as I lie sleepless in Kinsey's guest bed with puffy eyes, I think about Oasis. About Leo, my brother, and Kevin. It's like fitting together pieces of a puzzle I didn't know existed, and the picture it creates is as mystifying as it is crippling.

"I can hold my breath for two minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"Yes, I know."

My eyes narrow. "Fucking Jameson. Did he tell you my favorite food, too?"

"Ceviche," he says with a twitch of lips.

I feel my own mouth curve. "Favorite movie?"

He grimaces. " Reservoir Dogs . "

All the personal details, large and small, that Leo knew about me. How many times I've gone skydiving, the details of my sealed record, my most embarrassing moment, high school boyfriend, stunts and pranks spanning years… On and on.

Never once did it occur to me that there was something suspicious about the level of his knowledge. How he seemed to have it all memorized, reciting it with no hesitation or reference to notes. I always thought he was just that good. And that Jameson was a weirdo and had secretly compiled a dossier on my life.

Even from the minimal interaction I witnessed today, it's obvious Jameson and Leo have known each other for a long time.

How? How did I miss it?

Sadly, the answer is Easily .

I was a shitty sister and friend to my brother for the bulk of our twenties. Our social lives never overlapped, and I was largely apathetic about what was going on in his life.

While he was going to law school, I was doing shots in Cabo on a stranger's yacht, backpacking Machu Picchu, and heli-skiing in Canada with some people I met surfing. While he was getting a Big Boy job and starting a 401K, I was making ends meet waitressing and picking up odd jobs like working on pot farms during harvest months.

"It was a fucking nightmare getting you into this place, Mia. You have no idea the convincing I had to ? — "

"So, uh, you looked pretty cozy with your therapist in the car. You guys were all whispers and cuddles most of the drive."

What I don't understand—can't understand—is why neither of them simply told me. Did Leo think my treatment would suffer if I knew he was friends with my brother? Would it have suffered?

Probably.

But why keep it from me after the fact? Does Jameson know I've been dating and sleeping with Leo for almost two months? Does Kevin know? And where the fuck does Kevin come into this scenario?

My phone started blowing up as soon as Nix and I reached the car. After reading the first few desperate, pleading texts from Leo, I turned the device off and gave it to Nix. It was either that or put it under the back tire to be destroyed. When Kinsey slipped into the passenger seat minutes later, she didn't speak, just nodded at Nix, who put the car in gear and got us out of there.

I don't know what Leo told her. She brought it up when we got back to her place, but I shook my head and walked from the room. Though a part of me wants to devour whatever explanations might be waiting, the rest of me is too angry to listen.

"Tell me a secret."

"What kind of secret?"

"Your biggest one."

"I don't think so. "

Of course, what hurts the most is the proof that Leo isn't who I thought he was—someone I trusted implicitly, someone I believed in with all my heart. The last weeks weren't perfect like I thought. They were built on a cracked foundation. As I embraced and reveled in the transparency of our intimacy, he was the one wearing a mask.

"You're a very good liar, but you'd do well to remember I'm a better one."

He is a better liar.

The best.