Lured into Lies by Melanie Martins
Chapter 22
Amsterdam, December 2, 2020
Petra Van Gatt
I should’ve slept well last night given how quiet and comfortable this bedroom is, yet at six in the morning, I’m already fully awake, ruminating in the darkness of my bedroom. In just three days, I’ll have to settle the biggest decision of my life; whether to get married or not. And yet, right now, I still have no idea what I want to do. The idea of not marrying Alex and him marrying Amanda instead terrifies me. After all, I know it’ll mean the end of our relationship, but it also means that there will be no deaths—Mom will never tell the truth to Jan, and she and Alex will never have to face consequences for it. That seems like the most rational and logical thing to do. Jeez, this is so fucked up. I wonder how many brides are undecided until the very last minute. If they are still uncertain, even when they are walking down the aisle, wearing that long white dress and a smile on their lips while everyone else is staring at them, their gazes full of emotion. Dad was still undecided when he went ahead and married Mom. I recall perfectly well the day he told me, “Deep inside, I knew I shouldn’t marry her.” Despite his own instinct telling him not to, he still went ahead for the sake of not wanting to disappoint her… Only to get divorced a few years later. Yet, for me, it is the opposite, my instincts tell me to go ahead, it’s my head that tells me not to. Drawing out a breath, I leave the bed and make my way to the ensuite bathroom. I take a long, hot shower and try to meditate for at least one minute, clearing my mind from every thought, fear, and doubt.
After getting dressed, I reach the dining room, and stumble upon Emma, who’s already in there, eating breakfast.
“Oh, good morning,” I greet, walking toward her to give her a kiss. “How come you are already up?” As I lean down to press my lips on her cheek, the smell of marijuana and Chanel Nº5 hits my nose, creating an interesting mixture.
“I just came in and was hungry,” she answers, looking a bit tired.
“Did you have a good evening?”
“Yeah, it was dope…” she lets her words trail off, and I can tell she wants to say something more. While the waiter steps in and takes my order, I notice Emma observing me like she is just waiting for him to leave. Once we are left alone, she starts cautiously. “Um, look, I want to apologize for what I did yesterday.” Her tone sounds way more carrying and serious than usual. “I should’ve been more careful with my words.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, since there’s no much she can do now. “I’m glad you stepped in…”
“Yara can be such a crazy psycho sometimes.” She draws out a breath in annoyance, looking away for a moment. “I spoke to her, and she was very regretful of what she did.” Is she, though? After all, Yara didn’t text me or say anything further. Is Emma just trying to protect her new friend? Even though she came here to be with me…
“Yeah, I never thought she’d behave like that,” I tell her. “She seemed to be a totally different person.”
Emma takes another bite of her toast before saying, “Yeah, I think she took a little something before coming over.” Oh, Yara does drugs? I try to hide my astonishment by taking a sip of my juice and thanking the waiter as he puts my dish in front of me. “Anyway, did you sleep well?” she asks, most likely to change the subject.
“More or less…”
“You are still having those nightmares, huh?”
“Yeah, they still haunt me from time to time…” I say, not wanting to disclose too much, although she already knows quite a lot.
“Did you talk to a doctor about it?” She asks.
“Um, I went to see two in New York, and they both said my nightmares are interconnected with my accident, and the fact that Louise spoke about death brought the traumatic experience back to the surface.”
“Do you still think about the accident?” she keeps asking, which is making me slightly uncomfortable.
“I try not to,” I disclose. “When I’m awake, I focus on other things, but when I’m sleeping… I can’t control it.”
“You know that I’m here for whatever you need, right?”
“I know…” I look at her and, with a smile on my lips, I say, “Thanks for being here.”
“Always, babe.” We keep eating in silence for a few beats, before Emma asks, “What are your plans for today?”
“Well, um, I have to study a bit since I have exams before Christmas.”
“Oh, yeah…” Emma remains quiet for an instant as she seems to be thinking something through. “Do you still talk to that guy from Columbia? Um, what’s his name again?”
My eyes widen, unable to hide my astonishment at her question. “Matthew?”
She nods.
“Um, no, not really…” Why is she talking about him in the first place? “I just don’t have much to tell him.”
She exhales a swoosh of air, then says, “He called me yesterday, since apparently you blocked his number.”
“Really?” I ask in total disbelief. “How did he get yours in the first place?”
“Well, his dad is Eric Bradford…” Yeah, Eric must have had access to it from the case against Alex since we had to include the contact details of our witnesses. “Anyway, I told him to fuck off, but he asked me to tell you if you need his help to study, he’d gladly help. And then I told him to fuck off again.”
“You did well,” I say with a smile. “I can study on my own, and I definitely don’t need him or his friendship in my life.”
“Although, he was kind of right to worry…”
“What? I can’t believe you are taking his side.”
“I’m not, but look where you are now…” Emma’s directness feels like I’m taking an unpleasant, cold shower. “You are undecided whether to marry Alex or not, so in a way he was right about him.”
What the heck? I can’t prevent the gap between my lips, before asking, “So you think Matthew is a good guy now?”
“I think his concerns over your relationship with Alex were genuine and in good faith,” she says, gauging my reaction. “I also had mine, remember? And now at three days till the wedding, you are also having yours.” My jaw flexes, unable to deny that. “I just don’t think you should be mad at him for worrying about you and having legit concerns.”
“Wow. He must have been very persuasive for you to be delivering such speech.”
“Look what he sent me after he called.” Emma takes her iPhone and plays a voice message from him: “Hi Emma, I know I’m being insistent, but if you are with Petra, please tell her I just wanted to do the right thing and I was really worried that she was being lured in by a guy who didn’t have her best interests at heart, which is why I showed her the audio. Anyway, um, if she needs help to prepare for the exams, I can help her, and I don’t mind waking up early to match her timezone… Thanks.” Once the voice message ends, Emma says, “I might not like him that much, but he seems to genuinely care about you.”
“I will have a thought about it,” I tell her for the sake of closing the subject. “Thanks.”
* * *
While Emma has been sleeping, I’ve been spending the whole afternoon in the living room, my books spread all over the low table, as I get my reading done for my exam about macroeconomics. I was supposed to do it last spring, but due to my coma, Professor Martin was kind enough to let me do it this winter. I stop and wonder for a minute if Matthew still has a copy of his exam in order to know which questions were asked. Of course it won’t be the same, but having an idea of what they got could help me to prepare for mine.
No, forget it. You’re just making excuses to call him, I think to myself. Despite everything Matt has done, I’m not sure why I don’t feel any anger or resentment toward him. Maybe because, as Emma said, he had legit concerns about Alex and I? Blowing out a breath, I remain looking at the notes he gave me when we were studying together at my house, and I wonder if I should really give him a call or not. Then I remember when I went to the Hamptons for his birthday and how I ran away that night without telling him a word. I can imagine how disappointed he might have felt. Maybe even betrayed. Should I really give our friendship a second chance? The question hangs in my mind as I take my MacBook and decide to do a video-call to at least let him know that I’ve received his message. After a few seconds looking at my black screen, his face emerges along with a big, bright smile.
“Hey,” Matt greets as he puts his earbuds in. “Thanks for calling. I know I don’t deserve it.”
I quick chuckle escapes me at his words. “True, but Emma can be very convincing.”
“I never thought she’d actually deliver my message to you,” he admits. “How are you doing?”
“Um, I’m well, currently studying for the exams and, um, given the fact you already did them last spring, maybe you could give me a hand,” I tell him, seeing the excitement in his gaze.
“Yeah, of course,” he answers enthusiastically. “Oh, by the way, I want you know that I, Matthew Bradford, will not interfere anymore in your relationship. It was a very low-blow and I—”
“I understand,” I interpose, seeing how regretful he is for what he did. “You were worried about me and thought he didn’t hold my best interests at heart,” I tell him, repeating what he said over his voice message. “And, um, I’m sorry if I didn’t invite you for the wedding…”
Matt breaks in laugher. “No worries. I don’t think I’d have had the stomach to go.” At least, he’s honest about it. “So, do you want to start with macro?”
* * *
All of a sudden, I hear a few knocks on the door, which disrupts my reading.
“Come in,” I shout, already annoyed at the interruption.
The door flings wide open, and to my surprise, it’s Emma. “Petra, dinner is ready.”
“Dinner?” I repeat, confused. Then I look at the clock on my MacBook and realize it’s already eight p.m. I notice my FaceTime with Matt is still on as I can see him engrossed in his own book. “Um, Matt, I’m gonna have to go.”
His gaze goes up at me. “Of course. I think you should be good for the macro exam. If you want to review some lectures tomorrow, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I say, my lips curving up at his invitation. “Well, um, have a great one and thank you again for everything.”
As I close my laptop, I’m still barely believing that I’ve spent the whole afternoon FaceTiming with someone I thought I’d never talk to ever again. In my defense though, we spent most of our time studying, which translated into a very productive afternoon anyway. Truthfully, I had missed co-studying with someone beside me. And the great thing about Matt is that he doesn’t talk much, except when he has to explain concepts and give examples, but we didn’t waste time in trivial talks. And as he promised, we didn’t speak about Alex or the wedding either.
Sitting at the dining table, I notice Emma is staring curiously at me.
“What?” I ask her.
“Did you study well?”
I can sense the amusement in her tone; I know she wants me to give her all the details about my call with Matthew. But that’s not happening, so instead I just say, “Yeah, thanks. It was a very productive afternoon.”
“Ms. Van Gatt?”
Before Emma can say something else, the concierge steps into the dining room carrying a big Jasmine bouquet. “You have a delivery.”
“Wow,” Emma utters as her gaze lands on the flowers. “Now that’s a great surprise.”
My smile is up my ears as I leave the table and go to receive them. “Thank you.” Then I take the small card buried between the flowers, and my heart squeezes a bit realizing it’s not from Alex, but from Matt:
Thank you for today. I really loved talking to you again.
X, Matt.
Emma walks over and asks, “Who sent you this?”
“Um…” I feel tempted to lie, but she snatches the card from my hand and reads it. And with a smirk on her lips, she looks at me and says, “A very productive afternoon, indeed.”
“Oh, shut up.” I take the card back and instruct the concierge to put the flowers in my room. Then, as Emma starts eating, I discreetly take my iPhone and text him, I received your flowers, well done Mr. Bradford, they are really beautiful. I laugh internally knowing Matt hates when I call him Mr. Bradford, which is precisely why I do it.
Glad you liked them. You should be all set for macro. Good luck with the exam!”