Page 84 of The Liar's Reckoning

We left it at that until the night before I left New York with Silas. She told me she’d been invited to a girls’ dinner, but the look she gave me indicated she would stay in if I asked.

It was awkward, but I told her she should go, and I’d invoked the original deal we made. “If we need to renegotiate so you can be more…satisfied?—”

“No.” She’d cut me off. “You’re already going above and beyond. It’s just like me to get a crush on a gay guy. I’m sorry. I want this life with you. I want your babies. I won’t read anything more into it.”

“I’d give you more if I could,” I told her. Because for her, I would.

“I know. That’s why I love you.”

I considered telling her then. That I had a lover. That she could have a lover, too, if they could be discreet.

I need to tell her about Silas. What stops me is this confusion I have about her possible pregnancy. It scares me and thrills me inequal measure. It will change everything in ways I can’t begin to imagine. I know Silas feels it. The uncertainty is like an axe hanging above all three of our lives, swaying like it hasn’t determined who to fall on.

But if we can have honesty…maybe…

“I’m trying to decide what to wear to brunch with your mom tomorrow. It’s like everything I have is either slutty or prissy.”

“Err on the side of prissy then.”

“I wanna go shopping.”

Of course she does. Our credit card bills are giving me heartburn. “You have plenty of clothes. My mom likes prissy.”

She sighs. In so many ways, I don’t live up to the hype. Another wash of guilt moves through me. I was clear with Avery about my financial situation when I proposed to her. She said she understood, but Avery’s concept of money isn’t as realistic as I’d like it to be. I can’t see getting through next year—especially if we have a baby—without either selling the Chelsea apartment or asking my father for help.

I absolutely hate this. I’ve grown ridiculously attached to that apartment in a few short weeks.

The Washington Monument stares back at me as Avery sighs in defeat. “Maybeshe’lltake me shopping.”

I should text my mom and give her the idea myself. “You don’t want to get too much,” I remind her. “If you get pregnant, you’ll need a whole new wardrobe.”

“Oh my God, you’re right.”

We chat a few more minutes, and I hang up, turning around to see Silas leaning on the door jamb, listening, waiting. “I should tell her, shouldn’t I?”

He reaches up and runs his thumb underneath my left eye. “Unless you want these bags to be permanent.”

“What if she’s pissed?”

“She’s gonna be pissed, Graham.”

I nod and take a deep breath. “What about you? Will you be pissed if I don’t?”

“Come inside.”

I step into the hotel room. He closes the door behind me and runs his fingers through my hair, fixing it the way he likes before combing his fingertips through my beard. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “But you’re carrying a lot of guilt.”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“I hate being one of the reasons for that.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I know you don’t. That’s why you feel guilty.”

“Do you not?” I ask.

“I do,” he says. “So maybe you’d be doing both of us a favor.”

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