Page 24 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Making everyone believe I didn’t survive actually was Tony’s best option to hide me from the real killer. Sam probably knew that too, which explained why he freaked out so much over the videos that went viral. But unlike Sam, who did it for some self-serving motive, Tony was concerned about me.
I reach over and pat his hand. I need the connection to settle my nerves.
Tony squeezes my hand. It feels like a promise to keep me safe.
Harry steers the topic to something less dark and depressing, spending the rest of the morning telling me stories about my childhood. It’s surreal to hear a life story I don’t remember from someone else. But Harry’s got a flair for storytelling, and he relates everything with a great dose of theatrics. Tony listens too, since he wasn’t in Tempérane at that time.
After my parents’ death when I was ten, I lived at the Blackwood family mansion in Tempérane. Harry said I was always a talented pianist, and under the top teachers Margot hired for me, I flourished and eventually entered Curtis.
“I can’t remember that guy’s name, but the first teacher you had was so sad you didn’t have better instructors. He swore you could’ve debuted at Carnegie Hall or the Kennedy Center by age twelve if you had.”
“Really?” I always knew I was talented, but that good? If anybody said that to me, wouldn’t it have left some impression?
I try to recall someone like that, but my mind is irritatingly blank. The only piano teacher I remember is Tatiana. I gesture at Harry to continue, hoping that maybe more details will create a better picture, which might jog something.
“He could’ve been exaggerating. It wasn’t like he was honest about everything. I’m pretty sure his Cajun accent was fake. It never sounded quite right. But he taught you a lot, I think. Mom was very pleased with your progress, and—”
The doorbell rings.
I scowl. I want Harry to continue telling me about my past. “Are you expecting somebody else? Edgar?”
Tony shakes his head. “Nope. Besides, I think he’s still in Louisiana.”
“He could’ve taken the weekend off to see you,” Harry says, sliding a quick glance at me. “Because of…you know.”
“You can say it, Harry,” I say. “Edgar’s worried about me and Tony. One of you should’ve contacted him.”
“Why not you?” Harry asks.
“Because I don’t have his number?”
“Oh yeah.”
Harry opens the door, and Ryder strolls in carrying a couple of bags. He’s in a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts with the same crazy pattern, but is somehow pulling them off.
“Sorry I couldn’t stop by until now. Paige wasn’t feeling well yesterday. Don’t tell me Tony’s died of starva— Whoa. Tony! You actually look human. And…Ivy!” He shoots me a megawatt smile that hits like a missile. I bet he knows exactly the effect it has on women.
I steel myself against it. “Nice shirt and pants.”
He looks down. “Oh these? Not bad, huh?” He makes a slow turn, arms spread.
“Why are you in them? Auditioning for Worst Dressers in America?” Tony asks.
“I lost a bet with Paige.” He sighs, but it’s more affectionate than annoyed. “So. Here I am.”
“Couldn’t get out of it with a smile?” Harry says.
Ryder shakes his head. “I love her too much to manipulate her that way.” He turns to me. “I’m glad I don’t have to call you that other flower name. Ivy is much better. We would’ve met years ago at a yacht party if things had worked out a little different.”
I don’t remember the party. Just how much of my past am I really missing? I thought I didn’t remember a lot of my past because it wasn’t that exciting—everyday stuff like sleep, getting up, school… But what Harry told me about my fake-Cajun teacher and a yacht party—especially one with Ryder Reed—should’ve left some impression. “You wouldn’t have tried to hit on me back then, would you?”
“No! You were Tony’s girl. Hey, I know I have a horrible image when it comes to women, but I never, ever poach.”
“So what did you bring this time?” Tony says.
“Lunch, so you don’t waste away. Super gourmet. Iberian bacon pasta and tiramisu.”
“Thanks. You can go now. Here’s your tip.” Tony reaches into his pocket.
