Page 146 of The Revenge Game
The link opens to a simple web page with a black background. Text appears:The Truth About Drew Smith (and Andrew Yates)
A photo flashes up on the screen. It’s the selfie outside St Paul’s Cathedral where I’m squinting into the sun but we’re bothgrinning happily. His caption reads:I told myself I was just playing a part. I didn’t realize I was finally learning how to be real.
Then there’s the next photo of us at Greenwich. Then us together at the Tower of London.
The photo of us at Hampstead Court, accompanied by his words:Every time you trusted me with another piece of yourself, it got harder to keep pretending. Every time you showed me who you really were, I wanted to be brave enough to do the same.
He’s taken all the photos from my Christmas present, but each of them now has a caption.
The photo of Tabitha sprawled across Drew’s lap:Your cats saw through my act before I did.
A lump rises in my throat.
Every image cuts through my defenses, showing me how we both shed our masks piece by piece without even realizing it. Because yes, he lied about who he was, but these moments, the laughter, the quiet mornings, the way we fit together, were real.
They have to be.
But his photos don’t end where my photobook ended.
Instead, he’s added a selfie we took on Christmas Day.
We’re both wearing those ridiculous paper crowns. I’m grinning widely, and Drew’s smile is soft and real.
His caption is simple.By this point, I wasn’t pretending anymore. I was just completely in love.
It’s the story of us, rewritten from his perspective.
My phone beeps with another message from him.
I’m flying over for the class reunion. I really hope we can talk. I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I love you.
My heart stops.
He’s going to come to the class reunion?
I think about what it’ll take for Andrew Yates to come back to the place where he was tormented for four years. To see all of the people who bullied him so relentlessly.
To see me.
I scroll through the photos again, studying the happiness on our faces. So much happiness.
I don’t know why I’m surprised Drew made this for me.
He tracked down the flamingo snow globe for me.
He paid seventy-five thousand pounds to save me from an uncomfortable date.
He built a friggin’appfor me.
He showed me in so many ways how much he loves me.
Tears are in my eyes, and I’m impatiently wiping them away when Mom climbs into the car.
She takes one look at my face, and her expression shifts into that particular mix of worry and determination that only mothers seem able to achieve.
“Let’s go to Hector’s for dinner,” she says.
