Page 32 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Twelve
Ivy
Since the dinner that night, I don’t see Tony anywhere. Not at any of the family meals, not around the house. It’s as though he’s hiding from me. Is he upset I saw him when he was vulnerable? Or something else?
I want to know if he’s all right, if there’s anything I can do to make him feel better. Staying home makes me restless, but a couple of days ago when I went to a music store, people stared and whispered. I caught a few “Anthony”s, and it was all I could do not to tell them if they had something to say, they should just say it to his face. The only thing that kept me in check was the knowledge that Tony would be furious if I did that. He totally hates it when I tell him he’s not so bad, even though there are warm, delighted glimpses tinged with gratitude in his eyes whenever I call him a good guy. It’s weird.
Uncle Lane is busy at work, and he leaves early and comes home late. Edgar, too, so he’s hardly ever over. And Harry behaves like nothing’s wrong. But that’s Harry. He could put someone in a burning building at ease with a smile and a few calm words.
After six days, I can’t stand it. I don’t know exactly what caused Tony to pull his vanishing act, but I know it has something to do with what happened at that dinner and Aunt Margot’s behavior. The tension in the household is awful, and I want Aunt Margot to forgive him for whatever he did wrong and just…chill. No one should have to suffer through a night like that, especially not someone who’s obviously worked really hard to make his family proud.
I’m sitting at the piano, my pink dress demurely arranged around my legs…but I’m half-assing Chopin’s “Torrent” étude. Tatiana would literally wail, with the back of her hand thrown to her forehead, if she heard me play like this. But it’s impossible to focus when I’m trying to figure out what’s making Tony stay away.
Sister killer…
My fingers hit all the wrong notes, and I stop. Oh my God. There’s no way that hateful Mrs. Wentworth could be right. But if Aunt Margot thinks Tony had something to do with his sister’s death, that would explain why she treats him so coldly. But the news didn’t have anything about him being connected to the tragedy. And nobody in the house has ever hinted Tony had anything to do with what happened to Katherine.
On the other hand…
Maybe there’s more to the story.
Who can I ask?I run through the possibilities and end up with Harry. I’ll just have to weasel it out of him somehow.
I check the clock on the wall. Almost lunchtime. He’ll come down from his room soon, if he hasn’t already. Although he’s skinny, he eats like a horse with a stomach worm.
I hurry toward the dining room. Sure enough, he’s already seated and munching on some chips. I sit next to him, trying for an innocent smile.
“Oh no.” He blinks twice. “You’ve got that look. Don’t ask me to play Schubert with you. Not with Tony around.”
Perfect.“Is Tony joining us for lunch?”
“Doubt it.” He sniffs. “He’s probably packing to fly to L.A.”
“What?” I put a hand over my mouth. God, I didn’t mean to be so…loud. But it never occurred to me that Tony would just pack up and leave, especially when things aren’t resolved with his mom.
The idea of not ever seeing him again slices me like a razor. His faint, self-deprecating smiles, the way he hates for people to think he’s good, even though he tries so hard, the way he craves certain acknowledgment and affection but is too vulnerable to actually just reach for them—they all touch the side of me that was forever changed when my parents died. Because eight years ago, I was also too scared to make a fuss or demand anything, lest my new family decide they didn’t want me after all. I did my best to make them happy, make them proud…and unlike Tony, I got the love and acceptance I wanted. It’s terrible that he doesn’t have that from his parents, the two people who should love him more than anyone.
“Does Aunt Margot know?” I ask, unable to stop myself. “What about Uncle Lane?”
“Dunno. But Tony said Ryder asked him to join him there, and I’m sure he’ll go. It’s going to be awesome.”
“Oh really? How? And who is this Ryder person?”
“Ryder’s a model and actor. Tony’s best friend. And apparently he’s getting projects that are going to make him a star. I met the guy once. Unbelievably good-looking. It’s going to be wild—parties, girls…you name it.” Harry sighs longingly.
I want to throw up at the whole idea. Especially the “girls” part. Reminds me of the dickface CT, my first boyfriend at Curtis. He never failed to flirt and hang out with all the girls who shot him smiles and kisses…while ignoring me the entire time.
I don’t think Tony is as shallow as CT, but that doesn’t mean I’m still okay with him surrounded by older, worldly models and starlets, who undoubtedly hang out with his model-slash-actor friend. “When did Tony tell you about this…invitation to L.A.?”
“A couple days ago.”
My fingers shake. I can’t believe Tony didn’t say anything.
I can barely eat lunch, my gut churning. I want to find Tony and confront him…to see if he’s really going and—if so—when. And if he’s okay with the way things are between him and Aunt Margot. I need to know if he hasn’t felt any of the connection I felt with him—the kiss, the private moments we’ve shared, the Schubert we played together. But most importantly, I want to see him because I know I’m going to miss him, and I have a feeling if he leaves, I may never see him again. His complexity fascinates me. It’s like looking at a hard piece of music for the first time and trying to figure out how to play it so you can understand every nuance, every emotion.
I dump the unfinished lunch, go to his room and knock. No response.
Oh, come on. You can’t ignore me like this!
