Page 17 of Lie With Me

“So do you. So, I still say just show up at Mr. Perfect’s house tonight. If you really don’t want to though, you’ll finally meet Tripp at the engagement party next weekend. He’s a fun time,” she says suggestively.

“How is it that you guys have been together for, like, technically, eight months, and your best friends haven’t met? I swear it’s bizarre that we don’t all just hang out.”

My phone lights up with a text message.

Valentina, please. I need you.

With a deep sigh, I pull my phone off the table and bury it in my purse.

Ginny laughs nervously. “Well, you know how Jackson is. I mean, the three of us haven’t hung out either. He’s been busy with taking over Tailor Industries, and during our free time, we just–”

“I know. I know. Have an ungodly amount of sex on every surface you can possibly think of. Ugh, howdoyou put up with it?” I jest before shoving the rest of my quiche in my mouth.

She shrugs and jokes. “I know, it'ssucha burden.”

We both laugh as we get up and put on our matching navy peacoats, getting ready for our trek back to Chillard, where she’s working until Jackson finds space for the new women’s center she’s opening up.

It makes me wish I’d done some type of schooling so that perhaps I could also help women in need one day. Be useful for a change.

But my demons seek to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for.

Including a chance at a better life.

Tripp

I'm late for dinner at my parents' house on Sunday.

By the time I roll up, my mother is standing on the doorstep with a disapproving look, arms crossed and ready to scold me the second I step out of my car. “I can’t believe you bought that death trap.”

Chuckling, I look over my shoulder at the blacked-out Jaguar convertible I bought a few months ago. “Drives like a dream. I don’t know why you hate it so much.”

She continues to look annoyed as I kiss her cheek and head inside. “You couldn’t have at least gone with an SUV? Something that won’t get obliterated and kill you in an accident?”

“Why do you have to put that out into the universe, Mom? Something smells good. Did you make my favorite?” My childhood home smells like Christmas—cinnamon and pine, with the gentlesweetness of cranberry—and mother’s famous pot roast.

Every inch of the colonial-style home is decked out in garland and obnoxious Christmas decorations. As always, there’s a different tree in every room—including the bedrooms—even though no one lives here except my parents.

“Of course I did. Your father is already in the dining room. Sounds like you have a lot to share with us, Son.” Her tone is leading, causing me to frown down at her as she steps in front of me and heads into the kitchen.

“Nothing that I can think of…”

Pops is poring over paperwork from his place at the head of the table, the bald spot that started appearing a few years ago gleaming from the light of the overhead chandelier. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, traffic was terrible. I don’t know why people wait until the last minute for Christmas shopping. Getting out of the city was a nightmare.” I kiss the top of his shiny, bare head and thank my lucky stars that my hair comes from my mom’s side of the family.

“Uh-huh, and your mother has been a nightmare complaining about you being late. You better be on time for Christmas dinner on Thursday.” He stacks his papers together and tosses his pen on them, throwing me a wink.

“About that…”

She enters, holding a serving tray filled with aromatic meat, golden potatoes, and honey-roastedcarrots. “I don’t like the sound of that. Don’t tell me you’re not coming for Christmas.”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to stay in the city and work. We’re about to close a huge deal. And Jackson is preoccupied with the engagement party next weekend, so I said I’d step up and take more responsibility.”

It’s only half a lie. Jackson had nothing to do with the planning of his engagement party. He told Ginny to do whatever she wanted because he wanted her to be happy. So, as far as I know, she and her best friend planned the entire thing.

We are about to close a deal, though. And I’d rather work and keep myself busy than be reminded of the second worst night of my life when everything blew up between Emily and me.

“Yes, speaking of engagements. We ran into Emily’s parents yesterday,” Mom states, dropping the Christmas conversation as she serves Pops.

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