Page 228 of The Liar's Reckoning

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she says. “Why don’t you stay out here lest you forget there are children present.”

He glares at her. “I don’t need this from you today.”

“It’s not judgement, kiddo. I’m just not up for a conversation about the birds and the birds tonight. Anyway, nice to meet you, Silas. Make yourself at home.” She makes a gesture toward the living room while I smile at her gay joke.

The open concept apartment has that lived in look with a sectional sofa and a mess of throw pillows and soft blankets everywhere. A soda can and an empty plate are forgotten on the coffee table, and the TV is on, playing the news on mute.

I try not to read anything into that.

Once Theresa’s back is turned, I meet Graham’s gaze.

One corner of his lower lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at me with anxious eyes. I reach up and tug his lip free with the pad of my thumb. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just—you know—trying to figure out what comes next.”

“Maybe catch me up on what happened last?”

“I think I don’t have a family anymore,” he says.

My heart sinks as I cup his jaw. “What did you do?”

“I just told my dad I wanted to be with you. That was it. Once I said it, and he couldn’t talk me out of it, he left the room. It was like I was of no further use to him.”

“You didn’t have to—” I stop myself. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t wanted to, and making it about me won’t help. Still, I blame myself. I basically put him up to this. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? He should be the one who’s sorry. It’s not like I’m askinghimto fuck a guy. His eternal soul is fine. Although turning your back on your own kids should carry a heavy penance in my opinion, but like I told him—I’m no priest.”

No, but heisall over the place.

“Do you need to talk it through?” I ask.

He grabs my hands, the one on his face and the one at my side. “Is this a good sign that you’re here? Am I reading too much into it?”

“You told him you wanted to be with me?”

He nods.

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Be with you?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not sure yet, but I was hoping maybe we could date or something. I could try to win you over and show you I don’t want any more secrets either. But you’re moving, so I guess you might not want that.”

“I want that,” I say.

“How?” he asks, in planning mode.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Wanna go grab a drink and talk it out?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Now?”

“We don’t have to.”

“No.” He lets go of one of my hands to pat his pockets. “Let me grab my phone. I do want to.”

“I was kind of kidding.” It’s a terrible idea now that I think about it. There’s a zero percent chance someone won’t take pictures of us together.

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