All the Lies - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,50

disappointment in her voice.

“It's hard to explain,” I say quietly.

“You’re a writer,” she says.

“I know.”

I divert my eyes from her.

I know that if I were to look into them again, she would immediately know the truth about me and every last one of my secrets would be exposed.

“Okay,” she says, straightening her clothes even though they're not out of shape. “I understand.”

She turns around and walks away from me. It takes me a moment to catch up to her, but when I do, I see that she's hiding her face from me.

“Emma, please stop…” I start to say. I pull her hand, but she pulls it away from me. “This isn’t about you. None of this is about you.”

“Of course, nothing is ever about me,” she says.

I search her face, but it's blank. Whatever she's feeling, she's bottling up deep inside and all I see is a wall of anger and disappointment.

“I really like you,” I say.

She doesn't know this, but even saying those words are quite difficult for me.

“Look, I know that I was engaged to your friend and that none of this should be happening between us. I'm not with him anymore so I'm not breaking any rules, but you do have your guy code.”

“Alex and I are not friends. He invited me to your engagement party because he wanted me to invest my money with his fund. We haven't been in touch for years. I just happened to run into him.”

“You haven’t talked to him?”

“No, and I suspect that he didn’t really have much interest in me until we talked about my investment.”

“I can't believe that he invited you to our party to make a business deal.”

“You can't?” I ask.

“No,” she says, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. “Of course, I can. Work is the only thing that he really cares about.”

“Look, this has nothing to do with Alex. I like kissing you,” I say, “but my life… It's complicated.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can't tell you. You found out one aspect of my life, but I have others. Things are dangerous for me. I can't say much more than that.”

She stares at me, furrowing her brow.

I look at the crinkle that it makes on her forehead and realize that this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

She wants to know everything, not just as a reporter but as a woman.

She deserves to be with someone who can tell her those things. Only problem is that I'm not one of those people.

“I'm going to go,” Emma says.

The tone of her voice gets very low, signifying that she means business.

“Please, don't. I thought you were going to stay for dinner?”

“No, I don't think that's a good idea.”

I ask her to stay again, but again she refuses. I ruined it.

She walks out the front door and slams it shut behind her. I want to follow her out and ask her to stay again, but I hesitate.

I know that it's best for her if she goes.

I'm a dangerous man with a dangerous past.

I'm not just a writer, I have demons hunting me.

More than demons, actual bad men with guns who are determined to get their revenge.

The best thing that I can do is to let her go because I know what happens if I don't. I have lost one person in my life to them, I can't have anymore innocent bystanders paying for my crimes.

I look over to the window and watch her get into her car. More than anything, I want to run out there and ask her to stay.

30

Emma

I don't know what happened. He kissed me and I felt that he wanted me. I knew that he did and I wanted him, too.

Our mouths found each other and, suddenly, it all made sense. Then things changed.

He pushed me away. He tried to pretend that he didn't, but the trance of being there in his arms had dispersed.

I run down the steps to my car with angry tears in my eyes. I'm such a fool.

How could I let that happen?

My anger has nothing to do with Alex. I know that I don't owe him anything and we are no longer together.

I've done nothing wrong. Still, my anger remains.

I hate that I have put myself into this situation.

Why?

The events of the whole day mash together in my mind. I have come here looking for D. B. Carter, knowing full well that the guy on that forum was lying or at least making fun of me.

Then, I happen to