Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (11 page)

Being in the shower has often been my refuge where I relax enough to think things through without interruptions. This is the gist of what I understand.

Sam is not gay.

Well not entirely. He’s bisexual.

Sam being bisexual changes a lot. He sleeps with women, which means… Which means what? That I’m now free to sleep with him? No.

But hasn’t that been what I’ve wanted all along?

This is confusing.

Does he want me to sleep with him? Would I if he did? Should I?

Maybe?

Sure.

Hell yes!

No! What am I thinking?

I knew there was something off about him. He kept dropping hints and in my unnatural stupidity I kept missing, discarding and avoiding them.

But do I like Sam? Yes.

Do I have feelings for him? Well that’s the only explanation for me being hurt by this revelation.

Do I love him? No. No one falls in love that quickly.

What would love even matter anyway? He can’t return it, not the way I would want him to.

Unrequited love is crappy and crabby. If I’m to love Sam, I want my love repaid back in kind.

What am I saying? Do I even know him?

Yes, I know what his favourite foods are, how he likes his coffee. That he doesn’t take anything more than a simple sandwich or a breakfast bar in the morning as anything heavier upsets his stomach. That he prefers white wine over red, for heavens knows what reason. That his first crush, Emily moved when they were 11. That he bought the house they left when he was in 9th grade which he plans to remodel and move into, just because memories of his grandparents are there before they died. That he loves his family unconditionally and while he doesn’t like construction, he still does it to appease his father. That he sleeps in absolute darkness holding me close to him because I’m still afraid of the dark. That he tries to defend me from everything considered a threat. That he tries to calm and comfort me around people by taking and squeezing my hands.

Except clowns, I don’t know what scared him when he was a boy or, or…

Ugh! Doesn’t matter. Fake husband or not, trust is not a virtue I intend to do away with anytime soon. Sam broke that trust when he lied about his sexuality.

Why would he lie? Beside the fact that we’d just met and he probably didn’t want to give me his life story. Beside the fact that you don’t trust people with your secrets as soon as you meet them, irrespective of their mannerisms, temperament and outward appearances. Beside the fact that this was supposed to be a one-time, one day deal, which evolved and gave me or Sam barely any time to think and not react to circumstances.

Yeah, Sam had no reason to lie.

It’s not like I told Sam all there is to know about me the first time we met. There’s still a lot of things Sam doesn’t know about me, which even after the divorce, he probably still won’t know.

So… crisis averted?

Yeah. I trust Sam. Just wish I’d known earlier.

Alright then, time to get out of the shower and on with the rest of the day. We need to unearth what I suspect is a threat against Max in one form or another that had him pretending to love Patricia.

She is after all the goddess of manipulation, deception and tyranny. That is how Patricia got all my boyfriends and just about everything else in life.

[
11
]

Even Eleven Knows We’re Dumb

Just as I sit at my desk to trying type out a scene that had been weighing on me for a couple days, the phone goes off. I contemplate answering and decide to ignore it in favour of finishing a chapter. Besides, if it’s important, they’ll call back.

Five minutes later, the caller either has other ideas or the matter is important because just as an idea started to blossom and take root in my head, the phone starts belting out the classic ring tone again.

Checking the caller ID, I see Sam’s name and I wonder if he forgot something for the meeting because it’s only been an hour and a half since he left. “Sam?”

“So you’re still talking to me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, because you threw me out of your house this morning. Yeah, something to do with that.”

“Oh. Well I’m good now. I had a shower. So are we talking to Max today?”

“Yeah. I just talked to him and Koya who invited herself along. Koya is too nosy sometimes to understand that she isn’t always needed, but I couldn’t talk her out of coming. Should I come pick you up or are you driving out? You remember the way over to my parents’ right?”

“Uhh, not really. I had too much going on in my head on Sunday to pay attention. Come for me, but I need to get back before I see the girls tonight.”

“See you in five Mrs McGowan.”

Oh Sam, the things you do to me when you say that. I need a vibrator or something. I can’t mentally survive like this.

Add that to the list of ‘Things I mistakenly never thought I would need before forty but is seriously seeing the need for them now’.

****

I sit back on the love seat as I’ve been sitting for five minutes too long without hearing the truth. “Max, come on you can’t be that scared of Patricia. I survived nine years of school with her, college and high school included. This current version is the best there is!”

Koya shifts closer on the couch towards Max and tugs on his arm to look him in the eyes. “Why are you with her, you don’t love her, you don’t even like her. I just don’t get it, what is it, what’s the pull?”

“She threatened me.”

“What?!” If we all continue to respond like this people will start assuming that we rehearse daily.

Thinking about it I shouldn’t be surprised. Hello, this is Patricia. “How?”

Max takes a moment to take in a large amount of air before releasing a harsh breath. “Her roommate, or who I thought was her roommate, is married to a police officer, but I didn’t know. We were having fun for a couple months. Never saw a husband, boyfriend, nothing. Not even a picture.”

Sam’s brows farrows. “Tracey?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Didn’t. Just kept wondering why you broke up with her.”

Max waves away Sam’s comment and continues, “It’s a whole thing. So anyway, Patricia walked in on us about a month ago and has been blackmailing us ever since.”

“That makes no sense.”

Oh, Koya, you don’t know the deviance of Patricia.

“Right, I mean who is it? A simple police officer can’t make you that scared of Patricia.”

“It’s Jamison.”

“Oh.”

Picking up on Sam’s remark, the words slipped from my mouth without much thought. “Ooh. You’re screwed.”

“No screwing is why he’s in this mess.”

Sam frowns at Koya’s comment. “Koya, please. Not the time.”

“Well then bang, you’re dead.”

Leaning over I slap her shoulder, “Not funny, Koya.”

“That’s what happens when you walk and dip your fun-stick in every available cavity, dear.” Lydia stands, staring at our group, shaking her head.

Brows locked together, Peter stops mid-way in uncapping his Starbucks, “Lyddie!”

Like puppets, all our heads swing toward the living room entrance to see Sam’s parents standing looking at us with narrowed eyes, frowns and wrinkled foreheads.

Koya, wide-eyed and frozen, “Mom!”

Max, elbows on knees, hands on top of a bowed head running through his hair, “Mom!”

Sam, rubbing the nape of his neck, “Mom?!”

Me, how the hell are they here? “Mrs McGowan, Mr McGowan.”

“Jodi, please. Lydia and Peter. You’re our daughter now. One of us.”

A smile and nod is all I can manage without croaking a response.

Turning around I see Max fidgeting with his shirt collar and sleeves while glaring at the floor.

Peter and Lydia walk over to us. Peter sits in his chair, Lydia beside Sam, moving him to the middle of the couch. The early afternoon sun streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, making the light from the lamps irrelevant.

Nudging Sam in his side with my right elbow, I quietly say, “Didn’t you leave them at work?”

After an extended minute, as if just focusing on my question, Sam slowly says, “Yeah,” turning toward his parents, Sam says, “How did you know where we are?”

Peter sips the coffee. “When all three of our children willingly gather in one place, it’s a cause for concern. Your mother overheard Sam on the phone.”

“I don’t like snooping, but I’m glad I did.”

“Your mother is right though; we taught you kids virtues like honesty and staying virgins for your spouses. What happened to those? I was a virgin until the wedding night. What’s wrong with doing that?”

Hands over ears, Koya pretends to gag. “Ugh! Dad, please. Can’t we pay her off?”

“I offered, she doesn’t want money. Patricia wants us to be at her beck and call to do anything she wants. Otherwise, she threatens to release the photos on local billboards.”

Mrs McGowan crinkles her nose. “She took pictures? Nasty.”

“You were that involved that you didn’t hear a camera going? Dang, Max, how much thinking does that thing do for you?”

Max glares at Koya, before dropping his head in his hands, “I know, I know. I screwed up.”

“Yes you did. Literally.”

Mrs McGowan sends a pointed glare, “Koya, stop.”

“We need a plan.” Peter takes a large gulp of the coffee, finishing the beverage and re-covering the empty cup.

“I’m meeting my girlfriends tonight. We all went to college with Patricia. We should be able to come up with something since we know her better.”

Max frowns as he studies his parents. “You’re angry. I can tell.”

“Max, w- we’re disappointed more than angry.”

“Lyddie is disappointed, but I’m more pissed off,” Elbows on knees, Peter drops his chin in his right hand. “When were you going to tell us, Max?”

“I’ve been trying to dig up dirt on Patricia, but found none so far. I’m still waiting on the last guy I talked to. If all else failed, I was coming to you. You keep telling us to grow up, so…”

“Now you listen?” Eyes rolling, Lydia throws her hands in the air.

“This is where I come in useful,” Making eye contact with every member of the McGowan family, my lips twist and give way to a full smile. “I’ve known Patricia for a long time. Let’s just say I’m finally seeing the upside to that.”

****

What the hell?!

What the hell is going on?! Weren’t I home a few hours ago when my home looked like my home?

A charcoal grey sectional with green tan and white cushions anchors the living which frees up more space for both my green ottomans, are matched by the same shade of green curtains. My bamboo and glass coffee table remains but is accompanied by a new entertainment unit. A tan and off white rug anchors the space. My stone wall and fireplace blends seamlessly into the design.

A small bamboo and glass dining room set replaces the old work desk from my parents flanked by the same curtains. The table is set for a meal with two wine glasses, two covered plates, fresh white and green chrysanthemums and a bottle of wine in an ice bucket.

Looking over the kitchen I see a new stainless steel dishwasher which now matches the other appliances. The same green carries over complemented by a vibrant orange in the kitchen in the new dishes, a small floor rug by the sink, coffee maker, kettle, knife block and dish towels and stemware.

Reaching my bedroom door, I open up to the smell of faint fresh paint, dimmed by a jasmine and freesia candle. Silky, clean chocolate and orange sheets beneath the same coloured comforter, orange and blue curtains, a blue accent wall by the bed with brown and blue wall art and a similar rug.

None of these are mine.

I turn to see Sam behind me before he embraces me in a hug. His arms holding on, encasing me into his side, my senses submerged with his essence. In that moment I notice, the way our even our bodies seem to mould and gel together, like the missing half to a crescent moon.

Looking up, I see all smiles, nothing else. My irritation wanes. If this makes him happy, I guess I can live with it.

“Could’ve said something you know.”

“Wanted to surprise you. Besides, I was tired of the back and forth between my house and yours. So I brought over some things and got the rest. We need to have some of your stuff at my place too. We look like a couple now, right? Now we have two homes together, instead of my place and your place. How about that?”

“But how?”

“I selected some stuff with Mom and my designer a couple days ago. Marci put it together when we were out. I hope you like it,” Sam rubs the back of his neck, while still holding me with the other. “Savannah said you would. She said you wanted to redecorate for a while but didn’t have the time actually.”

“Of course she would. Grace has been trying to get rid of some of my stuff for years. Now she finally did.”

“Actually, the desk and few other things from the spare bedroom is downstairs in your storage locker. Your parent’s desk is in there instead. Grace said not to touch it.”

“I need to get my keys from Grace. You should have asked Alex. She’d speak the truth; something Grace is clearly incapable of doing.”

“So… you don’t like it? I’ll call Marci to put it back.”

“No. To be honest with you, I love it. The apartment looks grown up and stylish. It’s me, but… with you. This is us. Wow Sam. If this doesn’t say we’re together, nothing will.”

“Good. That’s the aim. Come on, food’s getting cold.”

“What is it?”

“Pizza.”

“Perfect.”

Sam and I spend the rest of the day indoors with him watching tv and me taking in everything else. My kitchen was also stocked with a warming draw. If I weren’t sure of how I felt about Sam before, the warming draw confirmed it.

I love him.

I mentioned it once in passing on our way back from his parents’ house. Just once. He remembered.

I walk over and sit beside Sam. Deciding, I’m not close enough I move to his lap and touch the side of his face. Sam’s gaze swivels to mine and I lean in for a kiss when I feel his lips on me.

“Just wanted to say thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Thank you.” I smile before going to move off his lap when Sam hauls me back.

In a low voice Sam murmurs, “No. Stay.”

“I have to get ready for Grace and Alex.”

“Alright, go.”

Stepping out of my closet fully dressed, Sam’s voice cut into my moment of silence.

“Where are you going, all dressed up?” Sam tears away his eyes from the phone, putting it on the nightstand to study my attire.

“Over to Grace. Forgot that already? Girls’ night in? You are dropping me off? We’ll be planning Patricia’s doom? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Scrunching up his nose, Sam looks me up and down analysing the tight, sensual skirt and shirt. “Like that?”

“Yes! What, you thought women only dress up to meet and impress men?” I shake my head in mock reprimand. “Silly man.”

“What the hell do you do on girl’s night? Don’t tell me you’re going out in that. “

“Yes, father.”

“Jodi, I’m serious.” Groaning, Sam swings his legs off the bed, unto the floor and grabs his cellphone of the nightstand. “I’m going have to cancel with the guys.”