Chapter 27

Becky

6:20 PM THURSDAY

The food is stone cold now, and Liam’s story is still ringing in my ears.

I came into this dinner thinking I had the moral high ground. But Liam Black sure does have a way of bringing me crashing into reality.

On the bright side, if I wanted to eat before, I sure as fuck don’t want to now.

I was sober. God, I was sober when I married him, and I only got drunk after.

So why the fuck is everything else still so blacked out?

Try as I might to glare at him and muster any kind of anger, I can’t. He’s charming, easy-going, funny, and apparently, just fucking perfect.

I guess that’s why I married him.

“I was sober,” I say distantly.

“You were,” Liam agrees. “But you did get marvelously drunk after, darling. I was so proud.”

To my relief, at least he’s not looking at me with a stare that says, I told you so. Instead, there’s sympathy in his eyes.

Ah, those fucking eyes. I just about drown in them. I wouldn’t fucking mind staring at them all day long.

Earth to Becky, my inner voice calls. You came to demand answers to your questions. Start fucking demanding!

I look at my wine glass. It’s nearly empty. I must have been chugging away at it while Liam spoke.

As if reading my mind, Liam top up both glasses.

“Thank you,” I mumble, and then, after drinking some, I take a deep breath.

“More questions, love?”

Yeah, like…a billion.

“For starters…what happened with Dan last night? I know something must have happened, and I can’t understand why you’re being so fucking coy about it. Wouldn’t that have been easiest—just telling me from the start instead of letting me run around Vegas on this wild fucking goose chase?”

The man has nerves of fucking steel. Instead of answering me he, twirls his dessert spoon in front of him on the table. His eyes never leave mine.

The seconds tick by. I cross my legs under the table and tap my foot to an unheard beat.

“At first, I couldn’t believe you didn’t remember what happened,” he replies finally and picks up his own wine glass. “That kind of thing tends to stick in the mind, in my experience.”

I roll my eyes. “What sort of a fucking answer is that?”

It verifies the mounting suspicion I’ve been toying with all day, though. Something did happen with Dan.

“Okay.” I lean back in my chair and try and sound cool calm and collected. “But I really don’t recall it. You must have realized that by now.”

“I have,” Liam agrees. “I believe you on that front, love.”

“So why don’t you just tell me?”

I wait. I fold my arms in front of my body.

According to some article I read in one of those trashy women’s magazines, crossing your arms in front of your body wards off negative energy.

Of course I’m not suggesting Liam is negative―on the contrary, it’s Dan who without even being here is giving off negative vibes.

“Sometimes,” Liam explains, “when we’re faced with trauma that the brain doesn’t know how to cope with, we intentionally forget. The human brain is a fascinating thing, after all. When it’s forced to process something that it isn’t prepared to comprehend, it’s easier to just delete the information and start fresh. Now I’m thinking that might be what happened to your memories of last night.”

“Well, that’s…” I scrunch my brow up, trying to think of the right word. “Stupid,” I finally decide. “It’s really stupid.”

“Smarter than you think,” Liam tells me. “I wonder if maybe you’re so unprepared to think of my step-brother as the monster he is because you’re embarrassed to—or maybe you just don’t want to believe that he is.” Liam’s eyes are boring into mine.

“Pardon?”

“You forgot about him last night, Becky. Erased him completely from your mind. If you don’t want to remember, you can let it go. I don’t want to hurt you—you’re my wife now, and you might be happier not knowing.”

Fuck.

“Okay,” I say, feeling resentment bubble up inside me. “But I’m telling you now: I would rather know. If I married you while I was under self-induced amnesia or whatever, it’s over—and now all I want to know is the truth. If I know the truth, we can fix this, and I can sort it out and marry the right man this time.”

“The right man,” Liam scoffs. There’s fire in his eyes, and—fuck—it makes me even wetter than before. Even though I can tell just by looking at him that I’m breaking his heart. “I can’t believe you’re still insistent that you’re going to marry that wanker. Open your fucking eyes, Becky—you’re already married to the right man.”

Liam’s words hurt me. If he had taken the knife from the table and stabbed it into my heart, it would have been less painful.

“Then give me a reason not to!” It’s difficult to keep my voice even. I’m close to fucking tears by now. “Tell me what he did!”

The weight of the fucking world is coming down on me. Any second it could squash me right into the ground.

“You can do better than Dan. That prick is so fucking boring, Becky. He’s stifling you. He wants to put you on a shelf and keep you pristine for everyone to look at without ever fucking thinking about what kind of life that leaves you with! You can’t even fucking trust him—if you could, you wouldn’t be so bloody fascinated with what he might have done.”

Now I do feel a tear roll down my cheek. It doesn’t escape me that this is our first fight as a married couple. The fucking thought is so absurd, more tears spill.

“Well, for your information,” my voice has risen a little, and I find it difficult not to scream at Liam, “I don’t find Dan boring, and I know he loves and cares for me. He’s good for me. He’s been helping me make good choices.”

I push my chair back and rise to leave.

“I think you need to take those rose-colored glasses off and see him for who he really is and what he really is doing to you.”

“Then fucking tell me!” I’m screaming at him. “Dan would never do anything to hurt me! So change my mind! Tell me what the fuck he did!”

“ I would, darling,” Liam snarls back, “but if you want to know so badly, why don’t you just try a little harder to remember. I think this is a lesson you need to learn for yourself.”

“Fuck you, Liam!” I’m glad that he booked the entire rooftop for this fucking argument—because it means that no one will stare at me as I storm out. “And fuck your fucking accent!”

I’m pretty sure as I leave I hear Liam call after me, “Love you too, darling!”

But I ignore him.

Back in the room, I find my bridesmaids hunkered down with pizza and drinks—alcoholic ones, of course. I’m pretty sure Sammi’s drunk again. Percy and Mysti May aren’t far behind.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Mysti May gives me a hug. “How’d it―Wait, have you been crying?”

I slump onto the couch and grab a cushion to bury my head in. I’d prefer the fucking ground to open and swallow me up, but of course I know the chances of that happening are like negative to a million.

“Bad,” I mutter through the cushion. “Actually, worse than bad.”

Percy scoots over to sit next to me. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Mysti May pulls the cushion away from my face.

“No,” I shake my head. “He won’t tell me what happened with Dan. Thinks I’m repressing it or some shit…”

“That does sound like you.” Mysti May hands me a glass of champagne.

I’m not so sure I should be drinking again. So far I’ve consumed almost no food today. It’s probably no good for me to only live on alcohol alone.

I take a sip anyway as I mull over Liam’s words.

Mysti May frowns and fills up her own glass. “So what does he expect you to do then, darlin’? Just—what? Remember harder?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “But I don’t know how to do that. Like, what the fuck does he think I’ve been doing all day?”

“Makes my head hurt,” complains Mysti May, who grabs some pizza. Cheese drips off the piece and lands on her thigh, but she’s had enough to drink that she’s obviously oblivious. “Want a slice?”

I shake my head. Just looking at all that fat has me put on an extra few pounds. Not to mention the fact my stomach still turns into knots every time I see or smell food.

“So what do we do now?” Percy asks.

I shake my head. I feel those fucking tears bubble below the surface again. “I just don’t know!” I wail. “If at least one of us remembered what happened, it would be a lot easier.”

There’s silence, but not for long.

“What about Celine Dion’s sex dungeon?” slurs Sammi from the place she’s lying on the floor.

The three of us turn our heads at the same time to stare at her.

Because, like…what?

“Sammi…are you remembering something?” My heart beats faster, and hope swells inside me.

This is going to be it. I’m finally going to find out what happened.

“Don’t you?” she asks nonchalantly as she drunkenly plucks at the carpet. “We did the concert thing, I stole a shark, we went to Celine Dion’s sex dungeon. Problem solved. You’re welcome.”

Open-mouthed, I stare at Sammi.

Did I hear correctly? Did she really just say what I think she said?

“What the…” starts Mysti May.

“Are you fucking high?” Percy asks.

I wouldn’t put it past her. Maybe Slammin’ Sammi has just been sniffing markers again.

Back to the fucking drawing board.

Celine Dion’s sex dungeon...for fuck’s sake. I need real clues, Sams! Not fucking garbage.

But for some reason, I can’t get the phrase out of my head. Celine Dion’s sex dungeon. For a while, the words twirl round and round my brain until I think I might throw up.

Then, like finally remembering which key on your key ring opens the front door, something clicks.

We did go to Celine Dion’s sex dungeon last night.

Christ. This’ll be good.