Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2) (2 page)

“Ever?” I giggle.

He’s serious when he replies, “Yep.”

Silly as it sounds, planning future apple pie dates gives me a thrill. This thing that we have going is moving at light speed. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Gigi told me she took one look at Pop and knew she was going to marry him one day. It wasn’t love at first sight for me, but love at first night.

“Deal,” I whisper.

We say our good-byes since I need to finish getting ready for work. Deciding to save it for one of my breaks, I slip my candy bar into the pocket of my apron and hurry downstairs to start my shift.

As usual, we have a busy dinner rush. During each lull, I find my mind wandering to him. Each time I can’t help but smile to myself already looking forward to the next time we’ll see each other.

Work keeps me from daydreaming about him for too long and by the end of the night, I’m grateful for the chance to catch up on sleep. After I indulge in my chocolaty Heath goodness, I get ready for bed. My small apartment never felt this lonely before.

It hasn’t been that long but I already miss him. His scent, a faint hint of the cologne I’ve come to adore, clings to my sheets. I bury my face into them, inhaling deeply, wishing he was here with me. Hugging my pillow, my last thought before sinking fully to sleep is how much nicer it is to fall asleep in his arms.

It’s my alarm that wakes me the next morning. In my infinite wisdom, I scheduled myself a morning shift after a closing one. With Gigi slowly passing the reins of Lola’s diner over to me, she’s been having me make the schedule.

So far I’m still getting the hang of it. It seems the only person’s schedule I keep screwing up is my own. That’s what I get for trying to accommodate everyone’s requests by squeezing myself to cover all the holes. Wiping sleep from my eyes, the prospect of a giant cup of coffee once I get downstairs has me moving.

There’s already a line of folks waiting when one of our morning waitresses opens the door. It’s not like our hours have changed in the past few decades. Wiping down the counter, I greet folks as they come in. We don’t have hostesses; Lola’s is seat yourself. Most of the morning crowd opts for the stools along the counter.

I’m pouring Hank Furlong a mug of coffee when I hear something that doesn’t compute. Setting down the coffee pot next to the mug, I move down the counter in a daze.

“What did you just say?” I ask.

Aaron Daniels blinks up at me. “About Heath Mackey and Kacey Albright getting engaged?”

Oh God, I had heard him right. My stomach falls, crashing down like a bird shot out of the sky.

“They got engaged?” I ask in a robotic tone.

I’m there but not there. Half of me waits for Aaron to reply while the other half spirits away to comb through still fresh memories of him holding me, kissing me, and making my body his.

Gossip moves through this town like wildfire. There is no way I missed them dating. The last I heard, Kacey still held a torch for Jake Whitmore. It didn’t even matter that he pretty much lived on an oilrig off the coast. No, Heath was single. Unless part of the reason he had been so discreet with me was to keep Kacey from finding out.

It was nothing short of a miracle that no one clued into his spending every night this week at my place. I had assumed it was because we were new. That’s why I hadn’t spilled the beans to anyone. How could I be so wrong about him?

He nods. “I was sitting at the table next to them. Bought them a round to congratulate them even though they were both well on their ways to celebrating.”

My entire frame is so tense I wouldn’t be surprised if one wrong move would send me splintering off into a thousand pieces. “Is that right?” I manage.

He nods happily, having no idea of my internal turmoil. “About time that Albright girl stopped mooning over Jake Whitmore. That boy is in the wind. Jake’s not ever going to settle down. Heath’s a nice young man and she’s a sweet little thing. I’m happy for them.”

Mentally, I stand them up, side by side, Heath and Kacey. Aaron’s words echo inside my head, “Nice young man, sweet little thing, nice young man, sweet little thing.”

It’s obvious the stark difference between Kacey and me. She’s not the type of girl to fall into bed with. She’s the kind of girl you marry. Not once this past week did shame for sleeping with Heath even enter my mind, until now.

Heath isn’t the first mistake I’ve made in the romance department. That doesn’t mean this blow doesn’t hurt. Before him, somehow, someway, part of me always had an inkling or a whisper of proceeding cautiously. Not with Heath, though. Nope. I was ready to hand him my heart that first night.

For the first time ever I was a hundred percent myself with someone. I was happy and excited, basking in how right we were together. We fit in a way that seemed special.

What happened? I don’t understand. He woke up in my bed yesterday morning.

“Thanks,” I numbly nod and walk away.

Each step sends a painful jolt up my body. Each step reminds me of what I had foolishly ignored our first night together. He was out of my league. It seems a better option was available to him, so he took it.

The chatter at the diner only increases, Heath and Kacey’s name coming at me over and over again like attacking bees. The sting proves to be more than I can handle.

It’s not every day you find out the man you’ve been falling in love with just got engaged to someone else.

The unicorn I was riding suddenly veered right, and then turned, its hindquarters to the castle wall. Kicking back with one leg, it knocked against the wall with its hoof.

“Why are you doing that?” I ask.

The unicorn ignores my question and continues to kick back, knocking against the wall.

How strange.

The knocking grows louder and shaking my head, I blink my eyes open. My room, not the lush grounds of a fairy tale castle come into dim focus. What kind of crazy-ass dream was that? A unicorn? A castle? Real mature, Sydney, you’re almost thirty, not twelve.

Turning over, I start to drift again when I hear the same knocking from my dream. Only, since I’m awake, the knocking is real and must have been what woke me.

Who in the . . . ?
I wonder to myself as I sit up. Reaching for my robe, I tug it on as I make my way to the front door of my apartment. Technically, there isn’t a backdoor but there is a window to a fire escape. Cinching my belt tight, I flip on the light in my living room.

“Who is it?” I ask once I reach my door. This isn’t the first time I wish I had a peephole.

“I need to talk to you,” the voice on the other side replies.

Oh no, fuck no. You have got to be fucking kidding me with this shit.

“Go away, Mackey,” I shout.

“I’m not going away until you talk to me,” he shouts.

Folding my arms across my chest, I glare at my door. It’s unreal that dickhead has the nerve to come try and see me, and worse, in the middle of the night. My hands curl into fists as anger swirls through my veins.

“There is nothing you can say that I have any interest in hearing,” I snap.

“Please,” he groans.

“I thought I made myself clear last time we spoke,” I reply.

Pouring that drink over his head had felt great, until I realized I had to clean it up. Still, his look of shock had been worth it. It wasn’t the most mature thing I’d ever done, not that I’m known for being mature in the first place. Gigi had been pissed, not so much about the soda, but that I hadn’t shared what happened between Heath and me.

One thing I loved about my grandmother is how understanding she is. There wasn’t a judgmental bone in her body. The morning after I lost my virginity, she was the first person I told. That hasn’t changed in the last eleven years. Well, until Heath and I started messing around. At the time, it felt like we were starting something. He wasn’t like any of the other guys I’ve dated, not that we even went out on an actual date.

Part of me was waiting to tell her because I didn’t know how she’d react. I worried she wouldn’t believe me, that she would think I was joking. How else could I explain falling for straight-laced, suit-and-tie-wearing, Audi-driving Heath Mackey? He was so far from the type of guy I was usually attracted to it wasn’t even funny. If he had a motorcycle and a negative balance in his bank account, she probably wouldn’t have blinked. Turns out it was the picture perfect good guy who stomped all over my heart.

While I was falling for him, he was just having a good time. To him, I was the girl you could fuck but not the girl you’d bring home to Mom and Dad. If I were, he never would have proposed to Kacey Albright.

Jake came back and I had to watch him and Heath fight over her. She broke off the engagement and picked Jake. Part of me wants to hate her but I can’t. She’s not the one who screwed me over. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more meant for each other than the two of them. It also didn’t suck to watch Heath get dumped. Serves him right. Karma.

It took him three months after she broke up with him before he tried to give me some bullshit apology. He had claimed that witnessing everything Jake and Kacey went through to be together made him truly understand the mistake he made in letting me go.

Letting me go?

Three months after he dropped me without a word to get engaged to someone and he somehow saw that as letting me go? I declined, and did so with a glass of soda over his head.

While he and Kacey were engaged, I’d sucked it up and dealt with it. Even though it killed me to see them together. You can’t make someone feel something they don’t. He made his choice, and it wasn’t me. It was not the first time something didn’t go my way and it wouldn’t be the last. I was a big girl.

“Sydney, come on.”

“You don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops,” I hiss.

He may have fooled me once, but I’d be damned if I’d give Heath Mackey a chance to do it again.

“All I’m asking is that you talk to me,” he argues.

Turning from the door, I stalk over to where my cell is charging. “I’ve got my phone.”

There’s a quiet clicking behind me and I spin around in time to watch as Heath pushes open my door. My mouth hangs open as he strolls in, lifting the credit card he used to jimmy my lock for me to see.

Snapping my mouth shut, I stomp my foot before shouting, “Did you seriously just break into my apartment.”

He shrugs, shoving his credit card into his wallet. “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

Shaking my head, I lift my phone to call the cops only to have him pluck it out of my hand. “Give me back my phone,” I snap.

He slides it into his pocket. “Not until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

Shoving past him, I head for the door. I’ll just use the diner phone. His arms wrap around me, stopping me. They are painfully familiar. For one perfect week, I discovered exactly how amazing his body was. His suits only hinted at the bulk his naked body could not hide.

“Let me go,” I hiss, trying in vain to jerk away.

His arms only tighten. “I’m sorry.”

I stiffen, twisting my neck to glare at him. “For what, treating me like a slut or breaking into my place?”

He glares right back. “I never treated you like a slut.”

Lifting my foot, I stomp down on his, hard. His hold loosens enough for me to pull away.

Once I do, I whirl to face him. “We sleep together and then you propose to someone else. As soon as she”—I point at him—“not you, calls off the wedding, you come knocking on my door again like nothing happened.”

“Sydney—”

I cut him off, dropping my hand. “No, there is nothing you can say that will make that all right. You might not think it, but I know I deserve better than that. So, you can take your apologies and shove them up your ass for all I care.”

He flinches as if my words were blows.

I hate him.

It’s not fair knowing that a part of me still wants him. There is no greater tragedy than the impossibility of erasing the memories of our time together. I can’t escape them. I can’t protect myself from them. They come out of nowhere, beating my already bruised heart.

Nowhere is safe, not the diner, not my apartment, not my car, and not even places we weren’t even together in. He’s ruined men in suits for me, which is insane because I was never attracted to guys who wore them before him. He’s rewired my brain, flipped my likes and dislikes all around.

Now, I see a tall man in a suit and I have to stop myself from drooling, but the moment my brain confirms it isn’t him, I remember the hurt instead.

“I messed up,” he murmurs.

My eyes close and I hug myself.
He messed up.
My anger cools, disbelief replacing it.

“You were going to marry her,” I whisper.

“It was complicated,” he argues.

I take some solace in the fact that even though he’s still gorgeous, he also looks awful. It serves him right. The day I found out he proposed, I told Gigi I needed some time off and drove straight to San Francisco. There was no way I could stay and watch them together.

I needed to get away so I could process the shotgun blast to my chest. It was like finding out something that seemed so real, never was. Like my entire life was built around the earth being flat only to be handed a globe. How could something, the start of something so beautiful have meant so little to him?