Page 68 of Addicted Lies

He looks confused and like he’s about to mention the bottle he bought at the restaurant, but I offer a smile. I mean, I would’ve told him eventually, right?

“Vodka soda, please,” I tell him.

Once he’s gone, I turn on my mother. She was the last person I was expecting this from.

“Why are you being rude?” I demand. My mother and I have hardly ever fought, even when I was a teenager.

“You don’t like him,” she states.

My jaw drops. “I obviously do, or he wouldn’t be here with me.” I point at her. “So be nice. I bet you weren’t like this to Posie when Dutton introduced her, so don’t have double standards.”

Her lips press into a thin line. It makes her uncomfortable when we have any type of disagreement. My mother has always been my everything. I’d even consider her as one of my best friends. She taught me everything I know about being a woman, so it’s startling to see this side of her. She doesn’t often dislike someone.

“We like him if you do,” my father interjects, trying to smooth things over, but my mother looks hurt, not offering to even consider changing her opinion.

Okay. I don’t even want to dive into that right now.

I turn and head to the bar to join Matthew. If my own mother is giving him the cold shoulder, I’m too terrified to leave him alone, where the rest of the family will tear him apart like a pack of animals.

But that’s when I notice he’s talking with Ivy. At least I know he’s okay with her.

“Billie.” My aunt Rya calls out to me.

“Aunt Rya.” I smile and hug her. “Happy Birthday.”

“I was just telling a friend of mine how good at piano you are.” She glances at the piano. “Are you willing to play for us?”

“Oh.” A blush streaks across my cheeks. “Sure.”

My agreement was immediate, but I’m actually nervous. It’s been years since I played, though it was something I always loved. I stopped when I went to college. It just didn’t seem like a practical career path. I’m sure I’ll be rusty, but a small part of me is excited to play again.

I glance back over to Matthew, who seems to be thoroughly entertained by something Ivy said.

I scan the room anxiously. I get a small boost of confidence when I notice Hope sitting beside the piano, a drink in her hand, looking like she’s suffocating with the number of people here.

I chuckle, and an obvious wave of relief washes through her when she sees me approaching.

“You look like you’re being tortured,” I tease as I slide onto the piano stool.

“More than you can imagine. You going to play?” she asks, leaning in. She always used to listen to me play, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel so daunting.

“I’m about to humiliate myself by how rusty I am, but sure, why not.” I shrug.

She places her drink on top of the piano.

“At least this way, you can pretend you’re drunk.” She chuckles. “Oh, this must be the loner area, then,” she says as someone comes up behind me. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. I can sense his presence before his scent drifts toward me.

“Is this seat taken?” Ford asks, already sitting down beside me. “It’s been a while since you’ve played.”

I roll my shoulders. “Well, some things don’t change,” I say pointedly as I place my fingers on the keyboard. I press down on one of the keys, and it pulls a string in me. Then I play a second note. My fingers slowly but surely find a rhythm, like a story I’ve read many times in the past, rewriting itself. The melody rings through the room, and it brings me a sense of serenity.

I glance at Hope, who has a small smile on her lips. Nothing seems complicated at the moment, and it’s nice. It’s funny how old things find ways to come back.

Ford’s hand, the one with the sun tattooed on it, reaches toward the keyboard. I shoot him a glare.

“Care to share?” he asks.

“You don’t know how to play the piano,” I scoff.

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