Page 66 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Not sure,” he says.

“Meanwhile,” I say, deciding to go all in while I’m being honest. “I fucked someone else.”

“What? When?”

“After I left Ben’s.”

“Just some random?—”

“No. One of my clients,” I say, and then quickly add, “From the gym. Not random.” Not a lie.

“On purpose?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, it was more or less on purpose. I mean, I didn’t put up a fight, you know?”

“But you were the one to reach out?”

For someone I keep so many secrets from, Chris knows me a little too well. “Yes.”

“I mean…” He leans back in his chair still holding his drink. “You know what I’m gonna say.”

That I was using Graham not to think about Ben. I hadn’t wanted to frame it that way, but it’s exactly what I was doing. There’s no denying it.

“Do you like the guy?” Chris asks.

“He’s married—it’s one of those never gonna happen things.”

“Married? Like to a?—”

“A woman. He’s a closet case.” Here’s where I wish I could tell him more, but then I’d have to explain that I’m an escort and sleep with married men all the time, and who the hell wants to admit something like that to someone who thinks you’re basically a good person? “None of that is really the point. He’s not—he’s no one. Just a reaction to a shitty situation like you said.”

“So what do you want me to say?” Chris asks. “You want me to tell you to stay the fuck away from Ben so you don’t go making stupid, self-destructive decisions, or do you want me to tell you to give it another chance, reach out to him and let him make it up to you if he wants. Or at get some decent closure.”

“I don’t know. The first one, I guess.”

“Stay. The fuck. Away from Ben.”

Ouch. I wasn’t expecting the firm, cold delivery, but I gather he really means it.

I gulp and nod, reaching for my drink. “Will do.”

22

GRAHAM

Ican’t seem to move past something my father said to me on Sunday in his office. It was just a few words, and they glided over me at the time, but ever since we left the privacy of his study and rejoined the others, the words have been doing a real number on me.“It wouldn’t have been the end of the world.”

One truth I’ve lived my life according to is that my family would not accept me if they knew I was gay. I’d lose my inheritance. I’d be cast out like my sister. I’d be nothing to them. No one. Wiped off the plate of their lives forever.

Was he only saying that because there’s now so much proof to the contrary? Proof I manufactured out of thin air? Would he feel differently if I were still single, not trying to get a woman pregnant? Not an elected official? If I were just a gay prosecutor minding my own business and quietly dating men?

I’ve never allowed myself to consider what an “out” life would look like, but given my historically low sex drive and late blooming, I doubt I’d have been out hitting the clubs every night looking for hook-ups. And since being in a relationship with aman wasn’t on any Bingo card I possessed, I never considered what was involved in finding a boyfriend.

My father is a busy, wealthy man. He wasn’t overly involved in my upbringing—neither was my mom, really. Any family trips we took were usually in service to some business meeting he had. Some public appearance that needed to be made out of town. We’ve never been especially close. Over the years we’ve talked about my grades, my courses, my career, how to present myself properly in public, but we don’t talk about real life. My dad doesn’t know what my favorite movie is, or how much I wish I could live in a coastal house in Maine. He doesn’t even know I’m a cat person, not a dog person. I’d like to say it’s because those things never came up, but the truth is more along the lines of I didn’t think he’d care.

I wonder if that’s not true. Maybe my sister’s bad attitude about him has rubbed off on me, and I haven’t given the old man a fair shake?

The fact that he might be okay with my being gay? Well, that’s news to me.

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