“Yes,” Nate said.
I kept looking at him.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago. Bea told me about the rent when she told me about the message.”
Bea sat down on the chair she'd left. Mother stayed beside the table, one hand on her notebook.
“All of it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You knew she had known that summer. That she'd taken money to keep it from me.”
“Yes.”
I could hear a car passing outside. Somewhere down the road a man called to someone. It was still Thursday afternoon. People were going home from work. We had been arranging flowers a few minutes ago.
“You told me she didn't know back then.”
He nodded.
“I asked whether you were sure.”
“I remember.”
“And you said yes.”
His eyes were wet. He didn't look away.
“I lied.”
I pressed the key against the inside of my hand until the end hurt.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to marry Bea.”
She made a small sound beside me. He glanced at her, then brought his eyes back to mine.
“I was angry when she told me. But she said you were fine. You'd moved on. She said telling you would only hurt you now.”
“And you believed that?”
“I accepted it.”
“That's a strange way to put it.”
“I wanted it to be enough.”
I looked at Bea. She had both hands over her mouth.
“She said she'd tell you herself before the wedding,” he went on. “I agreed. Then you arrived and I did what she asked. I let her call me Nathan and pretended I didn't know you.”
“You could have said my name properly.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me on Tuesday, when you showed me that phone.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head. I didn't want another list. I wanted one thing he'd chosen that hadn't depended on me believing less than he knew.
“You watched me feel better about her,” I said. “I was sitting right beside you.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“I thought she'd been lied to as well. I thought you were both helping me find out.”
“I should have told you everything.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
Mother pulled her chair in. The legs knocked against the table.
“Well, clearly he wanted to spare everyone this.”
I turned my head.
“You don't need to explain him to me.”
She drew herself up.
“He was trying to be kind.”
Nate shook his head. “No. I was trying to keep what I wanted.”
For the first time Mother had no quick answer.
I looked back at him.
“That's why you're here.”
“To marry her. Yes.”
“When you sent that message on Monday, I thought there might be something I didn't understand about why you'd come.”
“I wanted you to think about her wedding before you went to her. How much I wanted it. I thought you might give her time.”
“You made it sound like you needed me to help you.”
“I thought I could tell you what your mum did and leave Bea out of it. Then I wanted to get to her first, before you told her I'd started talking. I'd broken our agreement, and I was frightened.”
“Of losing her.”
“Yes.”
I put the key back in my pocket. My fingers didn't want to uncurl.
Yesterday at the bench he'd told me our summer was real. He had given me that, and I'd been grateful. He had sat at the other end, careful not to get too close, knowing why Bea's flat had been paid for.
I could still hear myself telling him she'd stood up for me.
“Did you mean what you said there?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You liked me. You wanted to keep seeing me.”
“Yes, Lucy.”
“And now you chose Bea. Knowing what she'd done.”
He looked toward her again. It wasn't long, but I saw it.
“I did.”
I nodded once.
The answer hurt. He'd wanted the summer with me. He wanted the wedding with her. And when keeping one meant lying about the other, he'd made his choice.
Bea lowered her hands.
“Lucy, we can talk about this.”
“We are talking.”
“I mean without Mum here. At the flat. You and me.”
I couldn't look at her ring again.
“No.”
Nate took a step toward me. He stopped before he reached the chair.
“I'm sorry.”
I could see that he meant it. I was still holding the key hard enough to hurt.
“I told you last night I wouldn't wait beside you both,” I said.
“I know.”
“I didn't know I'd already been doing it all week. Waiting while you decided which parts I could hear.”
He didn't answer.
The glass jars behind me caught the light. I had washed them, dried them, wrapped the stems. I had tried to help because Bea was my sister and because I'd thought we'd finally stopped lying to each other.
I stood.
Bea got up too. “Please don't go.”
“I'm going to pack.”
“You don't have to leave the house.”
“I know.”
That was all I said.
I walked past Nate. He moved back to let me through. Mother spoke behind me, saying that everyone needed to calm down, but I didn't stop at the doorway to answer.
I went upstairs, opened my case on the bed and took my dress from the wardrobe door.