The Truth About Forever (The Truth About, #2)

21

Cassian

I find Ophelia sitting on a bench by the lake. Her shoulders are hunched and her caramel hair is knotted from the sharp breeze. I pull my coat tight around my body, wishing I had grabbed a toque or scarf. As I walk down the leaf-ridden cobblestone path, I recount the events that have led up to this moment. In any situation, I'd be appalled with Pen and Patrick for keeping secrets from their family. But after seeing Ophelia's mistreatment of Patrick during dinner, I see no foul play in keeping her in the dark. She's indifferent and self-centred, and I can't fathom how she can support parents that gave one child up for adoption and kept the other.

The breeze picks up, sending leaves tumbling through the air. I fold into myself, wishing Ophelia had stormed into the conference room or wine tasting room instead. The weather is crisp, even for October. 

"Mind if I sit?" I gesture to the space beside Ophelia.

"Whatever," she shrugs, staring at the lake and mountains.

Sighing, I sit down and hand Ophelia her belongings. She takes them without muttering her appreciation. A crease forms between my brows. I should've left her lipsticks and papers scattered across the floor to be trampled on by Patrick's workers. I'm not happy with the way she treated Penelope. After years of searching for her biological family, Penelope doesn't deserve to be delivered backdoor comments that offend her. Personally, I would have preferred her never finding her biological family. I was worried about upending drama like this. About how it would affect her. But we're here now. The only way to fix it is to deal with the issues head-on. 

"You need to apologize to Pen," I say, breaking the silence.

Ophelia snorts. "Why? I'm not the one who kept secrets."

I roll my eyes. "You didn't seem very interested in knowing what was going on. Why would Patrick tell you if you kept trying to shut him down?" I pause, scratching the back of my head. I don't know what moulded Ophelia to act like this.

"Because I'm his cousin!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. She swivels, so she's facing me. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand."

I flinch as if I've been smacked. "That was low," I say, my voice several octaves lower. "Even for you. I may not have any siblings or cousins, but I have Jake and Hanna. Gemma, too. I understand what it's like to have secrets hidden from you. Secrets are sometimes kept for good reason. Pen and Patrick had a valid reason for keeping you in the dark." I pause, feeling confused. "Why would you treat your cousin so poorly?"

"Because," she replies, hardening her gaze. She picks at a chip in the wooden bench, flicking the sliver of wood to the ground. "Patrick doesn't realize how much time he's wasted. All the time he spent looking for his supposed sibling could've been spent on expanding his business. He'd be much further along had he stopped jumping to conclusions."

Frustrated, I climb to my feet and pace the length of the bench. What the hell is wrong with her? You're a terrible person if you shut down something that makes another person happy. "He didn't jump into conclusions," I argue. "I can't say I know Patrick well, but I don't think he would've searched for Penelope had he not found substantial evidence. Which he did. Pen said he found the papers."