Page 78 of Filthy Liar

I stumble out of the elevator and fall into her warm embrace. I don't manage another breath before I start to cry, letting her hold me like a child as I sob against her shoulder. She gently pats me, making hushed noises of understanding I know are intended to soothe me. They make everything better and worse at the same time.

I'm sure it would come as no shock that the same father who essentially planned to sell me off was never warm and fuzzy, but my mother wasn't either, so this is the first time I've ever been held like this by someone who feels like a parent. It's the first time I’ve felt this sort of love, and that only makes me cry harder.

Because I'm about to disappoint the fuck out of Helena.

Since this might be not only the first, but likely the only, time I get this sort of an embrace, I let it drag out for what is probably a little too long before I finally suck it up and lean back, meeting the clear blue gaze she passed on to her amazing son. "I screwed a bunch of shit up."

Her head tips, lips softly curving as one hand lifts to gently cup my cheek. "We all do, darling." She gives my cheek a pat before looping her arm around my shoulders and directing me toward the sitting room. "Come in here and tell me all about it. Nicholas is mixing up cocktails as we speak." She gives me a little wink. "I thought you might need something to take the edge off."

She has no freaking idea.

I nod, miraculously managing to keep the waterworks at bay. "That sounds nice."

When we reach the sitting room, Helena shoos one of the dogs off the sofa before gracefully lowering herself to the seat, tugging me alongside her. "Tell me what's happened. What has my charming, but occasionally dense, son done?"

I swallow hard, because Fynn hasn't done anything wrong. Not really.

I'm not sure what the heck I thought was going to happen when my father found out about my marriage. Of course he would expect money and of course he would expect Fynn to give it to him.

And of course he would pay it. Even if Fynn wasn't the kind of man who would do whatever it takes to keep me safe, what other option would he have had? Tell my father no? Risk the possibility that his threats on my life weren't empty and I’d end up smeared across the glass of his pristine condo, obscuring the oceanfront view?

I sniff, because I'm starting to tear up again. "Fynn didn't do anything.” I blink and inhale deeply, trying to slow my running nose. "I'm the one who fucked-up." I shut my eyes, guilt ravaging my insides. "A lot."

"And, like I told you earlier, everyone does at one time or another." Helena clasps one of my hands between both of hers. "But, based on the phone call I received from my son, he is not a completely innocent party in this."

She's not totally wrong. But what Fynn did was nothing compared to the things I've done, and that's why I'm so upset, because if this is how I feel, I can only imagine how all I did made him feel. “It’s complicated.”

Helena’s smile takes on a knowing line. “It always is.” She settles back against the pile of brocade and tassel cushioning the back of the sofa. “Fynn’s father and I used to bicker like cats and dogs.”

I don’t hide my surprise. I can’t. “Really?”

Over the past few weeks Fynn and I have been together nearly around the clock. I go to work with him every morning. To his mother’s with him every afternoon. We spend our evenings at home, having dinner and talking about anything and everything. I don’t think there are many subjects we haven’t touched on, and I love to hear what he thinks about all of it. Almost as much as I love the way he listens to what I think.

But I enjoy stories about his life growing up the most. Hearing about London and the loving, nuclear family he’d been lucky enough to be born into made me surprisingly happy. My own, dysfunctional upbringing left me thinking maybe that’s all there really was. That maybe no one was really happy or loved or… Normal.

But because of him, I was starting to believe that wasn’t true. Only now Helena has me second-guessing that hope.

Maybe coming here wasn't a great idea. Maybe I should have just shoved this all down the way I used to. Done whatever it took to pretend it didn't happen and moved forward, hoping things would be different.

But then Helena laughs, the sound surprisingly light and warm considering the topic of conversation. "Of course. We were married for nearly twenty-five years." She angles her body my way, propping an elbow on the back of the sofa before leaning into her fist, expression filled with fondness. "He was a brilliant and opinionated man who married an equally opinionated woman. We loved and trusted each other enough to know where the lines were." Her free hand comes to rest on my knee. "I won't say we didn't occasionally argue, but it was rare. Our bickering was about things that didn't matter. When they did matter, we talked. It was what worked for us, and you and Fynn will find what works for you. But don't for a second believe that getting upset or having harsh words means you love each other any less." Her tone softens. "It's what happens after those words that shows how you really feel. The first thing my son did was call me to make sure I was prepared to take care of you when you got here." Her smile turns sly. "And you have yet to say a bad word about him to me."

I blow out a breath that gets a little wobbly at the end. Coming here was definitely the wrong idea, because Helena is only making me feel worse. Knowing Fynn was looking out for me, even at a time like this, hammers the dagger of guilt deeper into my chest, taking up more available space then I have to offer. Which means something has to come out.

Apparently that something is a confession.

"I've lied to him." I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see how the way she's looking at me changes. "A lot."

"Well." Helena's tone is different, but I can't quite identify how. "Does he know this?"

I nod, still closing my eyes. "He knows everything." In a continued attempt to avoid looking at Helena, I let my face fall to my hands, leaning forward against my knees. "When we first met I didn't expect things to go the way they did, so I didn't tell him everything about my life."

"Omitting is not lying, Valerie. We can't confess all our sins to people the instant we meet them."

I straighten, forcing my eyes Helena’s way, because she deserves for me to face her. "But these were important things. Things I should have told him, and I didn't." My shoulders slump. "Now he's done the same thing. Now I know exactly how I made him feel and it's fucking miserable."

"Oh, darling girl." Helena grabs me, dragging me forward to squeeze me in another tight hug. "You didn't come here because you're mad at him. You came here because you are mad at yourself."

I nod against her shoulder. "I’m an ass and he's wonderful, and now he spent a million dollars on me, and that just makes it all worse."

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