Page 103 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Iris
Yuna picks me up from the foundation a little before five. Her eyes go wide, but she wisely keeps quiet about how I look. Bobbi follows in her car.
Yuna has Mr. Kim drive us to her hotel. I don’t say anything, since I’m feeling awkward with him around, and she doesn’t try to make me talk.
She has a suite on the top floor, with a two-hundred-and-seventy-degree view of the city through walls of glass. There are numerous vases full of red roses, and a black Yamaha baby grand sits on a platform.
She gestures at me to take a seat. Mr. Kim and Bobbi go to the coffee bar to help themselves to what is undoubtedly gourmet java. I curl up on one of the couches, making myself as small as possible. I wonder if Yuna knows about the girl. And if so, how much does she know?
Or maybe she doesn’t know. That’s why she treats me like a sister. A soul sister, she called me. I don’t feel I deserve a title like that. But Yuna mentioned the broken seatbelt. So it doesn’t make sense she wouldn’t know about the girl who died. Does it not bother Yuna that I killed someone?
Yuna takes the armchair, kicks off her shoes and rests her feet on an ottoman. A gift basket full of mini-bottles of liquor and wine is set on a glass-top table between us. She takes one and hands it to me.
“Merlot. It should be tasty. Want a glass?”
I shake my head. I open the screw-top and take a sip. It’s pretty full-bodied. I take another swallow and feel the alcohol warm my body.
“I feel like it’s my fault you’re in this emotional mess,” Yuna says, helping herself to a Chardonnay. She doesn’t bother with a glass either.
That surprises me. It isn’t like she knows why I’m upset… Or does she? “Why?”
“Because I wasn’t around.” She looks at her hand for a moment. “I should’ve looked for you harder.”
“You found me now.” Since I’m not ready to talk about me and Tony yet, I say, “By the way, is your dad okay with you staying here for this long?”
She purses her lips like she doesn’t like the topic, then shrugs. “He isn’t happy I’m not rushing back home, but I told him if he had a long-lost soul brother, he’d understand.”
I wonder how understanding her dad would be if he knew I was a killer.
“Even if he weren’t okay, there’s nothing he can do. My grandfather left me a sizable trust four years ago when he passed away, so I don’t need Dad’s approval. But I try not to cross him if I can help it.”
We plunge into an uncomfortable silence. What I really want to know about is the broken seatbelt buckle. How much of what Sam said is true? Did Yuna know the girl I killed—her name and her mom? Yuna told me some guy broke the buckle, but not the consequences. Maybe she doesn’t know about the accident. Or she doesn’t want to upset me by talking about it.
“Want something to eat?” Yuna says finally.
“Not really.” Just the idea of solid food is revolting.
“If we’re going to drink, you should have some dinner.” She gestures at Mr. Kim, who comes over instantly. She speaks to him in Korean, and he nods and disappears.
“What did you tell him?”
“I asked him to get you some mild abalone porridge. It should help settle your stomach. I eat it every time I need something easy to digest.” She crosses her ankles and smooths her skirt. “So tell me what happened. He proposed, and you didn’t say yes or no?”
I take another sip of the wine as the gut-wrenching memory of Tony at my feet runs through my mind. I’m exhausted, but I feel like I can make sense with Yuna. She might even help me find a way to make it not hurt for Tony. “I wish I could’ve said yes. I wanted to, but I just…couldn’t.”
Yuan blinks. “Why in the world not? I thought you said he told you he loves you?”
“He did, but he deserves…” I pause to think of the right word to describe what I’m feeling. “He deserves better.”
“Better than you? Are you kidding?” She shifts around until her legs are tucked under her. “That’s for him to decide, not you.”
Except he doesn’t know much about me because of my partial amnesia. There’s no way he can make a real decision without knowing all the facts. “You know I don’t remember my past. What if I did something bad?”
“Like what?” She frowns. “Smoking pot?” She leans forward and whispers, “Did you? I won’t judge if you did.”
God. I wish my biggest problem were having smoked pot. I shake my head helplessly, frustration over my broken memory bubbling over. “I don’t know because I don’t remember! That’s the problem!”
