First Lie Wins(9)

There’s not much else that can be said at this point. If I’m reading them right, Beth, Sara, and Allison will all go back to their significant others with stories of how humiliated they were by Rachel’s behavior rather than any concern over my intentions toward Ryan. And since Rachel didn’t make the dinner cut, I’m not too concerned about her sway over Ryan. But most important, no one is questioning who I am or where I came from.

The first lie wins.

We finish our meal quickly, with little conversation, and it’s almost a race to see who can leave the fastest. I stand on the sidewalk and watch them scatter to different parking lots, each of them walking with purpose.

The friends always require the most work. I pull my phone out and Google “Evie Porter” and “Brookwood, Alabama,” just like I know they will the second they get to the privacy of their own vehicles. The first page is full of vague articles that mention the accident, an accident actual residents of Brookwood might have trouble remembering but would never admit to—because what type of person forgets when two members of their community die? The articles are dated several years ago but didn’t truly exist until a couple of months ago. Articles that were created to give me credibility and a reason why I don’t like to talk about my past.

Shutting off my phone, I drop it in my bag, then walk the two blocks back to work.





Chapter 6


Ryan leans against the open door of the small workroom in the basement of the gallery. Lunch ended less than two hours ago, so I’m impressed with how fast word got to him.

“I heard lunch was awesome,” he says with a grin I recognize but a look in his eyes I don’t. He’s dressed casually today, wearing jeans that he’s probably had since college and an untucked button-down that I know is soft to the touch. It’s a good look on him, making him seem carefree and younger than he is.

I didn’t ask why there was no suit, no tie, no perfectly styled hair this morning while we were getting dressed, and he didn’t offer.

“So much awesome,” I answer back, matching his smile.

I’ve got seventy-five place cards scattered on the table in front of me, all needing to be color coded to match the lunch choice selected by the attendees of tomorrow’s luncheon. He drops down in the chair next to me, his foot sliding against mine while he picks up two of the closest place cards.

“These two need to be as far apart from each other as you can get them.”

I glance at the names written there. I was already informed that it may be a problem for them to be at the same table but decided to do it anyway. I mean, any luncheon where the topic is “Introduction to Art Collecting 101” could stand a little extra excitement.

“Duly noted,” I answer.

He drops the cards back on the table and says, “I’m surprised you didn’t call after.”

I swivel in my chair so I’m facing him. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

“But you shouldn’t have to handle that.” His hand reaches for mine, then he’s pulling me into his lap. I glance at the open door, hoping no one catches us like this. I’ve only had this job a couple of weeks, and everyone knows I only got it as a favor to Ryan and nothing more.

“This isn’t helping my credibility here,” I say, even as I snuggle in closer to him.

Ryan wraps an arm around me, anchoring me to him. His finger traces the top edge of my thin tee. “This is killing me right now, just so you know.”

I lean into his hand, and he glances at the empty hallway to make sure we’re still alone down here, but before he gets any ideas of being naughty at work, I say, “I know you’re too busy to come running down here to check on me.” I link my fingers with his to stop his exploration. “Which one called you?”

My money’s on Sara.

“Sara. She’s worried you hate them now.” He lets out a quiet laugh, then his expression changes. Gets serious. “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. I’m not worried about what they think.” I twist around so I can look at him. “But I am worried about what you think.”

Ryan runs a hand through my hair, wrapping the ends around his fist. Holding my face inches from his. “I think you’re wonderful.”

“Well, I think you’re pretty wonderful too.” And for the first time, these words aren’t spoken only to further my cause. For the first time, I mean what I’m saying.

In moments like this I wish things were different. That this was real life and that my biggest concern was the petty drama between me and his childhood friends. When I wish I was the girl who got a flat tire and he was the guy who just happened to be there to help me. That there was a real future ahead of us.

There’s so much he doesn’t know. So much I can’t tell him. And so much I never will.

Ryan takes in the mess on the table next to us. “I guess there’s no way for you to cut out early.”

“No. I have to finish these for tomorrow and then make sure all the tables have linens before I leave.” I pry myself off his lap and scoot back into my chair.

He leans forward, as if he won’t allow too much space between us. “Come work for me. Then we can take off early as often as we wanted.”

Ryan has offered this before, but it’s the first time it sounds like he really means it.