Page 145 of False God

I know he’s had it before—at Derek’s fancy country club.

Ellis grins. Lifts the glass. “Cheers!”

I lift mine, too, and tap it against his, echoing the exclamation.

We both sip.

“So, what was your work trip?” he asks.

I swish the scotch around in my glass, watching the brown liquid splash up the sides and then drip down. “I went to the Kensington Consolidated gala earlier.”

“Why?”

I give him the answer I should have told Lili. “Because of Elizabeth Kensington.”

Ellis chokes mid-swallow. Swigs some more scotch, coughs, then blinks rapidly at me. “What?”

He heard me or else it wouldn’t have just sounded like he needed the Heimlich maneuver.

But I repeat myself. “I went to the Kensington Consolidated gala to see Elizabeth Kensington.”

After over a year of my telling mostly lies and half-truths, it feels good to be totally honest.

“Dude.” His voice lowers, like we’re swapping secrets. “You’ve … slept with her?”

“Yes.”

“How was it?” he asks eagerly.

I reach for my glass. “None of your goddamn business.”

I’ve never discussed those details about a woman before. Men who go into specifics about their sex life usually seem to be compensating for something.

With Lili, it’s more than that. There’s also blinding possessiveness involved. Those intimate moments are ours alone.

“Okay, okay.” Ellis leans back in his seat. “So, are you, like, dating her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I-I don’t know.”

There are too many reasons—all of which I don’t feel like discussing—and not a single one that seems sufficient.

I’m currently confused about everything.I don’t knowhas become my standard response instead ofI’ve been busy, and I don’t think it’s much of an improvement. Might be a downgrade actually.

“So … bad night?”

“Could have been better.” I drink more scotch. “Tell me about you. What’s new?”

Ellis launches into a long response, like no one has asked him that recently. We’ve exchanged sporadic texts over the past few weeks, but none of his messages were that detailed. He’s seeing the woman in the photo he sent from the Statue of Liberty. She’s an aspiring nature photographer, and they’re planning a trip so he can surf and she can take pictures. His birthday is in a few weeks, he reminds me, and I make a mental note to remember to text him on the date.

I listen, asking questions occasionally, but the buzzing that used to be in the back of my head? It’s still there, and it’s not stress about potential bankruptcy.

It’s a long list of all the things I should have said to Lili.

And it’s almost as distracting as the woman herself.

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