Page 73 of I Do With You

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she singsongs, pushing both offerings into my hands. “Besides, red wine and chocolate are good for your heart.”

“I think that’s for heart disease,” I argue weakly, carrying them with me as I curl up in the corner of her couch, sniffling and blinking my scratchy, raw eyes as I try to make myself as small as possible to hold all my brokenness together.

Joy waves a hand around dismissively as she sits on the other end of the couch. “Heart disease, heartache, heartbreak, high blood pressure ... whatever. What happened? And if those tears are about Roy the Pretty Boy, I’m going to slap you, so tread carefully.”

I snort a humorless laugh, which echoes in my wineglass, because yeah, I’m drinking it. Just like she knew I would. Roy? I haven’t thought of him in ages, it seems. He’s a distant memory in the face of losing Ben. “Ben lied.”

Her eyes narrow as she studies my tear-soaked face. “About what? We talking he’s married, he’s the prince of a country we’ve never heard of, or he’s got crotch rot?”

My sister is strange. She watches cheesy Hallmark movies but spends too much time with immature sports guys, so those are the extremes her mind goes to.

“He’s not a business consultant, that’s for sure,” I huff as I shove a piece of candy into my mouth. Okay, she might’ve been right about the wine-chocolate combo. It’s not helping, but it’s not hurting either.

“Okaaay, are we talking pilot, porn star, IRS agent, podcast dude, politician, or serial killer?” She rattles off that list like the spectrum of bad to worse was already in her mind. “Gimme something to work with here, woman.”

“Why’re pilots bad?” I ask, not immediately seeing the downside to free vacation flights anywhere I want to go. That’s what I should’ve done after Roy. Just left Maple Creek and gone somewhere where no one knew me and I didn’t know anyone. Maybe I’ll do that now?

“Hookups in every city, clueless spouse at home.” She snaps her fingers, focusing me. “So he’s a pilot?”

I shake my head. “No, he’s—”

I freeze, the truth on the tip of my tongue. I can’t tell her. I don’t know why.

I should. She’d be as mad as I am about Ben’s lies. But I choke on saying the words,He’s the lead singer of a band, wears a whole-ass costume onstage, and scream-sings like a demon’s possessed him while the audience basically worships him like a god.

Finally, I manage to say, “I can’t tell you exactly what he is.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Straight to the serial killer, then,” she says flatly. She must not really believe that’s true, though, because she keeps rolling. “Mr. Not a Business Consultant is something else. Something secret. CIA agent?” she guesses with a side eye to gauge my reaction.

I give her a look of annoyance, and to mollify me, she throws another piece of candy at me, the way you’d toss a steak toward a dog to keep it from attacking you. It hits me in the shoulder and bounces to the couch. When I pick it up, effectively accepting her nonapology, she says, “Fine. I’ll quit guessing because you’re gonna tell me eventually. For now, does whatever it is change things for you?”

I stare into the depths of my wine, wishing I could go back to before I knew. “It changes everything. Not because of what he does—it’s not even bad, just confusing and weird. But because he lied. Over and over, he lied.” I can hear the flat, emotionless tone of my voice, but it’s because shock is setting in, not because I’m not feeling everything so intensely.

“Confusing. Weird. Sells pics online of his feet with his toes stuck in various foods?” she guesses, breaking the vow she made a whole twelve seconds ago.

I shake my head. “Joy.” She holds her hands up in surrender, but she has succeeded in drying my tears with wine, chocolate, and annoying comments. So I tell her the conundrum I’m in. “If he lied about this, he could’ve lied about other things. Or everything. I felt like we had this deep, serious connection, but what if it’s all fake?”

“Does it feel fake?” she asks gently.

I sigh, dropping my chin to hide behind my hair before I confess. “No. It felt like love. But now I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you haven’t told him all your deep, dark secrets either,” Joy points out.

I don’t have any. Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve been completely up front and honest with Ben, telling him things about my relationship with Roy that definitely don’t paint me in a particularly flattering light and sharing my heart and body in ways that terrified me until he made it seem safe to do so. Only to find out that he’s been hiding this big part of himself. And now I don’t trust anything he’s said or done.

There’s a huge question mark looming over it all.

There’s a knock at the door, and Joy jumps up. “It’s Shep. I texted him in case we needed backup. I thought we were going after Roy, but he’ll be happy to commit a little stabby-stab on Ben instead.” As she’s saying the last part, she opens the door.

Except it’s not Shepherd standing there. It’s Ben and Sean, who both look dazed at her casual threat of murder by knife.

“Oh, well, this certainly kills Shep’s element of surprise,” she taunts.

Ben rushes past her, falling to his knees in front of me. “Hope, I can explain.”

I curl up tighter, not wanting him to touch me. “No. I said leave me alone.”

“Over my dead body is the only way you’re taking my sister to some CIA black ops site,” Joy tells Ben from the doorway. She’s blocking Sean, making him stay in the hallway as her eyes jump back and forth like she’s waiting on either guy to make a move. “And don’t think my neighbors aren’t all watching this, recording it on their Ring cameras to give to the news.Twin Sisters Kidnapped by Top-Secret Government Agentshas a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”

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