Page 37 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Just getting warmed up,” I tell him.

“Silas! It’s been too long.” I turn to my other side to greet the beautiful Black woman with softly brown silky skin in a tight, white dress. Her mass of burnt caramel-colored hair is styled in thick twists and piled on top of her head, revealing a long, slender neck and a tattoo behind her right ear. She’s smiling wide, all bright teeth and dark, full red lips. Drew’s girlfriend, Jericho.

“Jesus, you look good,” I say, giving her a hug. “What vitamins are you taking? Damn.”

She laughs and gives Drew a cutting glance. “Not D.”

He sighs heavily, his good mood evaporating just like that.

“It’s overrated,” I assure her.

“I’m hoping he’s nice to me tonight since it’s our anniversary.”

“Two years.” I nod, remembering they met at another of Christian’s birthday parties. Then I look at Drew and say to Jericho, “You should dance with him. He’s terrible, but it’s usually good for a laugh.”

“Ouch,” he says, popping an olive into his mouth.

“Good idea. Let’s make a deal. If Madonna comes on, we hit the dance floor.”

“Why Madonna?” he asks.

“Because it’s the one thing I know for sure they’ll play,” she says.

In this place, she’s not wrong. I’m about to get off the bar stool and leave them to it when someone coming in the door catches my eye.

“Fuck.”

Drew follows my gaze. “Fuck,” he repeats.

“What the—did someone invite him?” I ask, as Ben’s blue eyesmeet mine from across the room, and my stomach rearranges itself again.

“Isn’t he supposed to be in London?”

“Yeah—I…” I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is the ex who ran my heart through a shredder is headed straight for me.

“How do you feel about second chances?” Drew asks.

“I don’t believe in them,” I answer quickly.

“You need backup?”

“No. Let’s all go dance. ‘Like a Prayer’ is bound to come on eventually.” I turn my back on the incoming ex.

“Sy—wait.”

I retreat, flanked by Drew and Jericho, but when Ben says my name a second time, I freeze and face him.

Ben is taller than I am by a few inches. Bigger in general. He’s white with rosy, porcelain skin, dark, ginger hair, and amber eyes. He’s got a face like a Renaissance painting with plump, pink lips and a long, straight nose. He’s beautiful, but he has no idea how much. He used to thinkIwas the catch, but I guess that was before he realized his life was actually going somewhere and mine was stalled in second gear.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the ocean?” I ask rather than something polite like hi or how nice to see you again.

“I’m back,” he says, and it feels like he punched me in the face.

“Since when?”

“Last week.”

“And you’re here now why?” I ask, gesturing to the party.

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