Page 111 of Painted Truths

His flat tone and harsh words cause my stomach to drop, and my response is a low murmur, not wanting to remind him of things I know he’d rather forget.

“Alex, that was the night your father…”

He huffs an affirmative, sounding more like his brother than he knows. The thought brings a half-smile to my lips, despite the serious topic.

“Ah, yes. The night my sperm donor took his turn. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

My heart breaks once more for my friend, whose relationships with both his father and brother were stolen from him by his conniving mother.

“Henry’s not who you think he is. Talk to him, fix whatever is broken between you. It’s not too late.”

I want nothing more than to tell him that I know about what happened back then—the night Henry left—but I would never betray Henry’s trust, so instead I must settle with nudging these brothers in the right direction.

“Fix this? Oh, Liv. Your optimism is one of the things I love most about you.”

His words are nonchalant, but there’s an inflection in his voice that sounds sad, troubled—regretful even. Sensing this is as far as I can hope to push things today and just grateful in general to still have my best friend, I choose to ignore his last remark.

“When will you be back in London?”

His answer surprises me. “I’ve been back since Sunday, Liv. Boss’s orders.”

My heart falls even further at the realisation that he’s brought my best friend back from Dubai, knowing that I need to clear the air between us.

That man.

Jo chooses this exact moment to grab my phone clean out of my hand. “Loverboy, you need to give your girl a break. All that sex on the beach in the Bahamas not enough for you?”

Her eyes widen as she discerns it’s not “loverboy,” but Alex on the line. It would be comical if it wasn’t so horrifying. Mutely handing the phone back, she turns to point at the door as she clamps her lips between her teeth.

“Well, a little TMI, but… um, that’d be our Jo all over!”

I’m met with silence for several moments before he exhales deeply. “A vacation together, Liv? It’s serious, then?”

I don’t miss a beat, answering with a firm. “Very.”

“Well… okay, then. For you, I can do this. Just… Liv, I swear—if he hurts you, I will kill him. I’m not joking, okay?”

Snorting a sob mixed with a giggle that makes me sound like some demented version of Peppa Pig, we end the call with laughter on our lips and a smile in my heart.

After thanking all the employees in the salon, I follow the girls onto the curb to where Samuel is parked and waiting for us. Bless him, that man must have the patience of a saint.

I slide into the backseat, looking askance at Jo, whose eyes are still wide, face the very picture of sheepish regret, and I can’t stop the bark of laughter from escaping my grinning lips.

“Oh, Josephine O’Malley. You and that damn mouth!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Olivia

The trip to my old apartment is quick, and upon depositing us safely, Samuel gently tips my arm as I step out of the backseat of the car.

"Ms Olivia, I need to make a quick trip, but I'll be back to collect you girls when you need me. Would that be alright?"

His light blue eyes are fixed on mine earnestly as I reply, "Honestly, Samuel, there's no need to keep looking after me like this. The DeMarco boys will have you run ragged." His lip quirks up in an almost smile on his always so impassive face. "We can just get an Uber."

My words land on deaf ears, and as it begins to rain, he whisks me along the footpath and into the foyer of my old building, promising that he'll be back within the hour.

Jo meant business when she said she was styling me. So, after devouring a quick dinner of lasagne and two large glasses of my new favourite Sauvignon Blanc, I spend the following two hours as Jo's personal mannequin. Most of that time is spent trying on countless outfits, each one skimpier than the last. Eventually, I walk out of the bathroom after squishing my ass into a short black satin ruched dress with sparkly sequins scattered throughout and one long, sheer sleeve.