Page 53 of The Triangle

“He said what?”

“He said the two of you haven’t been apart all these years. Is that true?”

It’s a simple question but confusing at the same time. “Would that surprise you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he huffs.

“Why?”

“So you’ve been in contact with him before this?”

“Contact? Danny, we lived together.”

“What?”

“Not like that.” Not exactly, anyway. I’m just not in the mood to dissect the complicated relationship Alec and I have. “But I’ve stayed with him a lot over the years. I mean”—I throw up my hands-—“where did you think I would go? When you left I had no one but him.”

Danny turns away. Faces the glass. Stares out at the lake. “So you’ve been his personal assassin this whole time?”

I have to laugh at that. “You know what I do. It’s not like I can just go get a job, Danny. How was I supposed to live?”

“You have money, you don’t need to do that.”

“I have money because I do that.”

He turns and leans back against the glass. Folds his arms across his chest. Takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Glares at me.

“Doesn’t work anymore,” I say. “That look of disappointment that used to have me begging for forgiveness won’t work anymore.”

Danny says nothing.

“You left me,” I say.

“You gave me no choice.”

“Bullshit.”

“You wanted him and I—”

“I wanted both of you. And you knew that. I made it very clear. So do not pretend like I was the one who made you leave. You did that all on your own.”

Silence as we stare at each other.

“Say something.”

But he just shakes his head. “I wanted more for you, Christine. I mean, think about it. Why would I save you from all that horrible shit that happened when you were a kid only to throw you back to the wolves?”

I deflate a little. “Danny—”

“I wanted you to go to school. To college. To be more than this.”

“College? Danny, come on. I’m not that kind of smart. College is a death sentence for me. I have one skill, OK?”

“No,” he says. Loudly. “No. That’s not all you have to offer this world.”

“Well, what else is there? It’s a real question. I know how to open safes. I know how to shoot. I hit my target. There is literally nothing else I can do. I can’t even fucking waitress. I tried. Right after you left. I tried. I tried a million different things. I tried being a housekeeper, I tried being a waitress, I even tried driving a taxi in fucking Johannesburg—”

“So you were in South Africa this whole time?’