A Lie for a Lie (All In) - Helena Hunting Page 0,50
by my anxiety or my slightly morose mood. “I understand that this is difficult, especially because he lied to you, but maybe he had a reason?”
“I can only imagine what that reason is.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to hear it from him instead of going on speculation?”
“I don’t need to talk to him, because it’s not speculation, it’s sarcasm—which I know is the lowest form of wit, but I looked him up, Eden. The picture the media paints isn’t very pretty.” I open the article again and pass her the tablet.
Eden points to the date. “This article is old.”
“There are more recent ones.”
She arches a brow. “How recent?”
I focus on the happy seals. “From a couple of years ago. It doesn’t matter. He lied.”
“Probably because he was worried you’d react like this,” Eden says softly. “I understand you’re upset, but don’t you think he deserves—”
“Do not say it, Eden.”
She sighs and puts her arm around my shoulder. “All of these rumors you’re so focused on are old news. I know you’re scared, but you can’t avoid him forever, and you know it. And you’ll never know if he’s really just a lying asshole with a pretty face and rock-star moves in bed if you don’t at least sit down and hear what he has to say.”
“I never thought I was going to see him again,” I whisper, fighting tears. “And I just started seeing someone.”
Eden makes a face. “You mean Walter? That guy in your building?”
“He’s nice.” And he is nice. He works in IT; he’s quiet, likes Italian food, has a cat named Sam—and he’s kind. He also knows about my circumstances and hasn’t bailed, which is saying something, since I’m kind of a huge mess. The last time we went out he kissed me good night. Like him, it was nice. No fireworks or shooting stars, but it wasn’t unpleasant either.
“So is the weather today—it doesn’t mean he’s right for you.”
“And just because RJ keeps showing up here doesn’t mean he’s right for me either.”
“Or maybe it’s a sign. I mean, think about it. I get a job out here, and all of a sudden they need someone who specializes in dolphin reproduction behaviors? How many people are qualified for that specific job?”
“Anyone who specializes in aquatic mammals has the right background.”
“But they hired you—after a phone interview, which never happens, by the way.” She gives me an I told you so kind of look.
“They’d already met me in person, because I’d been here before.”
“Okay, I can give you that one. But what about the fact that his teammate’s wife funds the initiative you’ve been hired for, and then they throw a birthday party and he ends up here. It feels a lot like fate intervening to me, and I usually don’t even believe in things like fate. You have to give him a chance, Lainey.”
“I’ll think about it.”
The following day RJ shows up while I’m covering the information desk. It’s a Tuesday, which is one of the slower days of the week. Not that it’s ever slow per se, but there are fewer staff on days like this one. And it means I can’t run away and hide in one of the anterooms of the exhibits.
He’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. His hair is styled instead of covered with a ball cap. He looks just as gorgeous as he did a year ago, if not even more so. Today his arms are loaded with white flowers. Truce. Surrender. Peace.
I plaster my hands to the countertop so I don’t give in to the urge to touch my hair. My heart stutters in my chest and then kicks into a full gallop as he approaches the desk.
“Hi.” His voice is soft and warm, like marshmallows melting in hot chocolate.
“Hello.” Mine is hard and sharp like knives.
“I brought these for you. I don’t know if you’ve gotten all the other things I’ve left for you or not—”
“I got them all.” Each one has been like twisting a knife in a wound, because they’ve all been attached to memories from Alaska—which is clearly the point.
He sets the bouquet of flowers on the desk; the fragrant scent of the blossoms surrounds me. I want to reach out and stroke the pretty petals, but instead I keep my hands on the counter. “Lainey, please, can we talk? I know I lied to you, and you have every right to be angry with me about that—but if you just give me a chance to