Page 224 of The Liar's Reckoning

Me

Is he cutting me off?

Holden

You didn’t give him much choice

Bullshit.

Me

He barely spoke to me.

Holden

What did you expect? You think he’s gonna invite your boyfriend we trashed in the media to mass? Grow up, Graham.

The text is like a strong slap in the face, waking me up from my daze. But he isn’t done yet.

You should have warned me you were planning to do this. If you give a shit about this family, you’ll give me a week before you start showing your boyfriend off in public so I can do some damage control.

I respond after only a few seconds of staring at his thoughtless words.

me

Why would I give a shit about a family that doesn’t give a shit about me?

Holden

All right cool off. But you know this looks bad, right?

I shake my head at my phone, not in disbelief, but disappointment. They really all expected me to live the rest of my life like a fucking priest.

Shaking my head, I click out of the conversation and open up my thread with Silas, grounding myself with our playful, often flirty, back and forth. What was it he mentioned last night?

I remember and send him a text.

Me

Looking forward to a vigorous exchange tonight re: gerrymandering. I have a feeling I still have a lot to learn.

67

SILAS

Having dinner with Christian and Gibson was one thing. They were a normal, mature married couple. Their love for each other was like a fourth presence on the terrace. It was palpable without a word, without a touch. Not that they didn’t touch casually, or even with some possessiveness at times, but compared to Drew and Olivier? They were practically puritanical.

These two haven’t gone more than three seconds without a hand or mouth on the other. I can’t tell which one of them is worse.

“Did you guys both pop a Viagra before I got here, or what? I called first.”

This I ask as Olivier is trying to have a conversation with me about having to drive to Florida, and Drew is kissing his neck from behind him while his hand snakes down his abs like he’s literally about to shove it into his pants.

Ollie pushes Drew’s hands away at my question like being felt up in the kitchen is so common he barely noticed it was happening. Drew gives me the universal cockblocker glare. I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to contradict me.

“I have a high testosterone level,” he says.

“No shit.”

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