Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I’m a liar.
I can hear my father’s murderer saying those words to him the week before his death. The accusation so loud, so vitriolic, it seeped through the phone call in my father’s home office. Then, I recall the worry I felt when I asked Dad after he hung up, “Is everything okay with Joe?”
“Just a disagreement,” my father had said. “It happens in business.”
I try to shake off the terrible memory of a week later when I opened the door to my home.
Clearing away the past, I gesture awkwardly to the handsome man by my side. “This is,” I begin, pausing to collect my thoughts better.
But Raven’s eyes shine with recognition. “You’re the guy from the conference!”
Great. Nick must think I blabbed to Raven about banging him. “Nick Adams,” he says, with a professional grin as he extends a hand. “Strong Ventures now. Nice to meet you.”
He’s a pro at navigating weirdness. He’s dealt with uncomfortable social situations since he was seventeen. But I can’t let him manage this one solo. “The guy who keynoted in Miami,” I jump in to clarify as she lets go of his hand. Raven has no idea Nick and I were a thing that night.
“Right. I heard you were great,” she adds, and it’s not her fault, but she still makes it sound like I kissed and told.
“His speech was great,” I add, and why am I not better at this? I know how to fake it when my mom sends me on dates. Why can’t I be more smooth right now when I need it most? When my insides are jumpy and my heart is too tender?
“That’s the word on the street. Anyway…” Raven’s gaze flickers from Nick to me. And I know, I just know I’ll be getting a text from her later asking what’s up.
“Nick and I are doing some work on planning David’s fundraiser. Picking up auction items,” I say, finally explaining myself. “For A Helping Paw. The one you’re donating to.”
“Yes, thank you. We appreciate that,” Nick adds.
“Oh, right. You’re David’s dad,” Raven says, then she shakes her head, like she’s admonishing herself some more. “I really should have gone to your keynote. But you know what? I’m going to download it from the conference app tonight and listen to it on my morning run.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” Nick says smoothly.
“I know I will.” Raven comes in to give me a quick hug. “Details,” she whispers in my ear, then waves a hand and saunters down the street.
When I return my self-conscious gaze to Nick, I feel foolish. I feel young. I feel…like a little liar.
“I should go,” I say so I don’t do another risky thing tonight.
“Me too.”
I turn to head into the lobby, then stop. “I never said a thing to her. About us,” I whisper. “I need you to know that.”
“I know that,” he says, then sighs heavily, and drags a hand over the back of his neck, like whatever’s coming next pains him to say. “But Layla?”
He doesn’t even have to say the next thing. We can’t do this again.
Forget tender. My heart feels bruised. “I know we can’t do this again, Nick. Good night.”
Then I run past the doorman and into my building, up the elevator, into my apartment. I shut and deadbolt the door quickly, turning on the lights, refusing to look back.
I have to move forward.
When Raven texts me a few minutes later, I vow to take the first step in moving on. From my bureau, I grab a tank to wear to bed, then I click open her text. But I already know what it’s going to say. And I’m right.
Raven: Did I pick up on a vibe with the hot daddy? Because I’m pretty sure I picked up on a vibe.
I curse under my breath as I sit on the edge of my red chaise longue. Then, I ignore the kernel of guilt wedging itself into my chest as I tap out a reply.
Layla: Ha! Would it be terrible if I said I wish? I mean, the man’s hot and all, but he’s more like a mentor.
There. It’s true enough.
Raven: Ah, got it. Well, maybe in another life. Let’s catch up soon! You owe me some clubbing time.
Layla: I do! And you can cash in. Can’t wait to see you in the Hamptons.
I toss my phone on my bed, far, far away where I won’t have to tap out any more lies. A true enough lie is still a lie.
26
WHATEVER IT WAS, WHATEVER IT WASN’T
Layla
On Sunday night, Jules reclines on my purple sofa, staring daggers at the bottle of pinot gris, like it’s the cause of my romantic woes. “Fuck white wine. You need whiskey after that sad story,” she declares when I finish giving them chapter and verse on my sorry situation.