Twelve Truths and a Lie

C
opyright
© 2016 by Christina Lee. All rights reserved.

T
hank
you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author(s), except where permitted by law.

T
WELVE TRUTHS
AND A LIE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

A
ll products and
/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.

P
ublished
by Christina Lee

C
over design
by Natasha Snow

E
diting
and proofing provided Prema and Judy’s Proofreading

B
LURB

A
urora Jones has it all
—a job she loves as a child and family therapist, supportive friends, and a decent place to live. What she doesn’t have is much luck when it comes to dating men. And not only are her choices terrible, she also hasn’t been boyfriend free since she was a teenager. So she places herself on a sabbatical of sorts. No dating for twelve months.

C
ameron Miller has had
a crappy year. His girlfriend fell for his best friend and to ease the pain, he drowns his troubles in more booze and women than he can count. When his buddies finally slap some sense into him and urge him to focus on his new position as a special education teacher in an urban school district, he decides to get his act together.

A
way from the
prying eyes of their mutual friends, Cameron and Aurora agree to hang out once a week in their newly dubbed Chastity Club. Number of members? Two. It’s a chance to find solace, companionship, and something neither anticipated – a burgeoning attraction. But when Cameron invites Aurora to be his fake date at the reunion his ex-girlfriend and best friend will be attending, their passion ignites. What happens in Chastity Club stays in Chastity Club, right? Until they discover that a year of self-truths might actually lead them to true love.

A
dult Contemporary Romance

Two of Hearts

Three Sacred Words

B
etween Breaths Series
(New Adult Romance)

All of You

Before You Break

Whisper to Me

Promise Me This

There You Stand
(m/m)

R
oadmap to Your Heart Series
(Male/Male Romance)

There You Stand

The Darkest Flame

The Deepest Blue

The Sweetest Goodbye,
coming soon

F
ree Fall Series (Male
/Male New Adult Romance co-written with Nyrae Dawn)

Touch the Sky

Chase the Sun

A
nthologies

When We Met (with Tiffany King, AL Jackson, & Molly McAdams)

T
he man working
the door just had to be wearing a kilt. Goodness. Look at him.

“Those are some powerful legs,” I said into my drink. “Wouldn’t even have to unzip.”

Nicole laughed, her arm resting against the empty chair beside her. “You’re all talk and no action.”

“You have no faith,” I said, staring at the bouncer’s combat boots and imagining a night of debauchery. “I could totally pull off a one-nighter if I really wanted to.”

According to my friends, all my relationships had been unfulfilling, so why not just have sex? Instead, I’d become overly acquainted with my hand and a vibrator they had dubbed
Richard
.

“Besides, you’d probably emit that magic juju,” Sydney said, after downing the rest of her beer. “The guy would tell you some sob story to hook you in.”

“You’d wake up in another relationship with some loser, and
Richard
would be thrown in a drawer,” Nicole said, fluttering her hand. “Bam, another year of your life wasted on somebody who doesn’t deserve you.”

We were at Flanagan’s, our favorite Irish bar in the city, the place we met the first Friday of every month, no exceptions, so that we didn’t get too lost in our everyday lives. It had been easy to keep in touch during college when we were all on the same campus, but since beginning our careers, it was harder to check in with each other on a regular basis.

“What makes you think kilt guy wouldn’t be good for me?” I said wiggling my eyebrows. “We know nothing about him yet.”

I was reaching. I was also nine months into the “no boyfriends” agreement I’d made last year with these same friends at a Memorial Day barbeque, which also meant I was into my ninth month of abstinence.

Because I do not have sex without being in a relationship. Never have. Which was a really dumb rule, I had begun to realize. Poor
Richard
. He was overworked and underpaid. But my friends also knew me too well.

“You can’t just have sex. Not you,” Sydney remarked. “Though that might solve your constant tongue wagging.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m beginning to change my mind. Me and Mr. Kilt can just go in the bathroom and come out satisfied.”

Both of my friends burst into hysterics. They knew I would never do such a thing, but I was so hard up, I just might consider giving it a shot. I mean, why not? We didn’t even have to know each other’s names. Isn’t that how it worked?

Something familiar twisted in my gut. My mother had never known my dad’s name, most likely due to a string of alcohol-infused nights. And after she passed away, I was pretty much alone, outside of my older half-brother and one aunt, with no clue what my paternal genes might reveal, given the chance.

It was true that I had never been without a boyfriend since my freshman year of high school. I hadn’t known for a number of years what it was like to come home to an empty house, with zero messages waiting on my phone. To shop only to satisfy my own needs. It was solitary, yet exhilarating in a lot of ways.

“You’re a fixer,” Nicole said, reaching into her bag to retrieve her cell phone. “That’s why we had to do an intervention.”

The three of us had been best friends since freshman year in college. They sometimes knew me better than I knew myself. Last year, we had to rescue Sydney from working herself half to death when she opened her own dance studio. It got to the point where she was sleeping in her office and inhaling paint fumes because she needed to get the entrance color just right.

The year before that we had to talk sense into Nicole, who felt she needed to compete with her sister to have a whole football team of kids to make her mother happy. Her husband, Michael, had thanked us profusely.

And now it is my turn for some harsh reality, I guess.

“Here’s a scenario of what happens when you’re left to your own devices,” Sydney said, alerting the server that she wanted another drink. “You have an invisible sign on your head that reads,
I’m a social worker, tell me all your problems
. On the first date you feel sorry for the dude, think you might be able to fix him, and suddenly you’re trapped in a terrible relationship with somebody who has major issues.”

“You were getting good at extracting yourself. But then you’d find the next guy to take his place in record time,” Nicole said as I watched kilt guy move in and out of the bar entrance. “Take the last boyfriend, Phil?”

“You had sex with the raging alcoholic on the third date,” Sydney said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “And that was it, you sold him your soul.”

“So what you’re saying is, I can’t have sex without wanting to marry the guy?” I replied, throwing up my hands. “That’s not exactly true. I just…”

“Next thing we knew, you were bailing Phil out after his second DUI, driving him around everywhere.” Sydney shook her head in disapproval. “Trying to get him into treatment. You felt obligated to make it work.”

“You like having somebody around,” Nicole said, texting someone on her phone, more than likely her hubby. He was always late. “I totally get it. Somebody to make plans with, worry about. Somebody to
repair
.”

I nodded because she was mostly right. I didn’t know what happened to me. It used to be me and my mom and my older brother, until he moved away. Then Mom started drinking heavily again. I hated that feeling of helplessness. I didn’t even recognize that I was dating a string of guys with one dependency or another.

These past nine months had been eye opening, even refreshing, if not isolating. It was the first time since high school that I’d been truly alone. And I actually got some things done that I wanted to do—for me. I painted my bedroom a deep jade color and got some new prints for the walls. I made weekly trips to the Whole Foods store.

For God’s sake, I was in the mental health profession, I should know better. I should recognize all the signs. But somehow when you’re in the thick of it, you cannot for the life of you see the forest through the trees. It all looks and feels achingly familiar, and it forces you to settle into your comfort zone. Even if that comfort zone isn’t really all that comfortable.

Just then, Nicole’s husband, Michael, walked in with a couple of friends. They always hired a sitter on these nights. Nicole had two-year-old twins, and they were working on a third, though they were having trouble conceiving.

Michael usually brought random co-workers and his best friend, Madhav, whose nickname was Maddie. He was an engineer, and I always suspected that Sydney had somewhat of a crush on Maddie, but she would never admit it.

This time there was a friend with Maddie that I hadn’t seen in a few months.

“Where has that guy been?” I said, watching him walk toward our table with his tall frame and linebacker shoulders. The deep blue shirt he wore made his firm, bronzed arms stand out.

“Who, Cameron?” Sydney asked. His background might’ve been a mix of black and white, and it was difficult not to notice those thick lashes and brows only tempered by his full lips and angular cheekbones.

“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Nicole hissed. “Michael said he’s been having quite a year, on a long bender, and screwing anybody who’s willing.”

My gut roiled as warning signs flared. I’d be staying far away from that guy.

“Although,” Sydney said, waggling her eyebrows. “Might be just the solution if he’s only moving through a line of them.”

“Ew,” I said. “See, that’s the visual I find most gross.”

“Knowing you,” Nicole whispered, after kissing Michael when he leaned over her chair. “He’d fall hard and be reformed.”

I rolled my eyes. She knew as well as I did that meeting somebody did not make your problems magically disappear. It only magnified them. At least eventually.

Maddie waved to everybody and then turned to Cameron. “You remember my roommate, Cameron?”

“Roommate?” Sydney said. “Since when?”

“Past six months,” Maddie said and Cameron nodded.

Good Lord, that black-blue hair that fell in ringlets across his forehead. Long enough to run my fingers through. A girl could at least fantasize, right?

Those deep-set amber eyes soaked me in like egg on bread. Was it suddenly boiling hot in here?

“You’re a teacher, right?” I asked noticing how scratchy my throat had become.

“Started the school year at elementary level on the east side,” he replied, sliding in his seat across from me. “I’m an Intervention Specialist.”

“I’m familiar with the municipal school system,” I said. “I work for Belleview. Child and Family Therapist. Independently Licensed Social Worker.”

Sydney nudged my knee beneath the table and smirked. “Eyes on your own paper.”