Page 9 of Beautiful Lies
I inherited his cool Nordic looks—white-blonde hair and pale skin—but personality-wise, I was a mix of both parents. I’d taken a quiz once that told me I was an extroverted introvert. Conflicted, like me.
“If I wanted a dishwasher, I’d buy it myself,” my mom said, handing me another plate. “I like washing dishes. It gives me a chance to look out the window.”
“And spy on the neighbors,” I joked, earning a chuckle from my dad.
My mom flapped her hand at me, dousing me with soapy dishwater, her gaze still focused on the window where Zeke was front and center talking to Lana. She looked impeccable, as always, with chestnut-brown hair cut in long layers and expertly applied makeup that didn’t detract from her classic beauty. We looked nothing alike, had very little in common, and we weren’t that close. She lived on Long Island and we only got together for holidays, and then it was polite chit-chat, at best.
Lana always wore heels, no matter the occasion, and shopped at Nordstrom, which guaranteed that her tasteful designer outfits won my mom’s approval. I shopped at vintage stores and flea markets, which never won me any points. My current ensemble was a vintage Ramones T-shirt, shredded jean cut-offs, and black combat boots. Maybe I should have made more of an effort to please my mom. At least my T-shirt covered my tattoo, something guaranteed to put a frown on her face every time she saw it.
When I was eighteen, Connor inked soaring bluebirds on my right bicep. A year later, I had barbed wire inked around the bluebirds. When Connor found out about it, he stormed into the lounge of my residence hall at St. John’s University mid-study session. He threw me over his shoulder, kicking and screaming, and sequestered me in my room, demanding an explanation.
“You’re the barbed wire, Connor. I want out.”
“You’re mine. We belong together.”
“Make a choice. Me or drugs. I refuse to stand by and watch you kill yourself.”
“I’m not going to die, baby. I’ve got it under control.”
As usual, we ended up naked, and he fucked me until I forgot my own name, let alone the reason for my concern.
“Is it serious with you and Zeke?” my mom asked.
I shrugged. “No. We’re just hanging out.”
“You don’t bring a boy to your father’s birthday lunch if you’re just ‘hanging out.’ He’s so handsome,” she said in a dreamy voice that made her sound like a teenager with her first crush. “With such good manners. And he’s so easy to talk to. He’s a keeper. Don’t let that one go.”
My mom didn’t say the words, but she didn’t need to—Zeke was everything that Connor wasn’t. Money and status were important to her, and even though we’d never had either one, she still aspired to it. But I didn’t love Zeke, and he didn’t love me. Whatever we were doing, it had probably reached its expiration date. Bringing him over today had been a mistake.
“I have a feeling he’ll move on to bigger and better things. With his education, he could be working on Wall Street or heading up one of his dad’s companies in no time.”
“Zeke likes running the bar with Louis. Before that, he was a bartender, Mom. He doesn’t have huge ambitions.”
“One day, he will. Mark my words. That boy is going places.”
I sighed. Of course, Zeke would get the benefit of the doubt. My mom had probably Googled his family already and knew their net worth.
“Honey, why don’t you come into the salon and let me do your hair?” my mom said, removing her gloves. She tucked my lavender hair behind my ears and peered at my face, frowning at my signature black eyeliner—thick and winged. “Such a beautiful face. You don’t need all that black eyeliner. Let me fix your hair. I bet Zeke would love—”
“Mom. No. Just … no. We need to go to work.”
I brushed past her, trying not to notice how her face fell in disappointment. It always seemed to end this way with us. “Hey, Zeke. We should go.”
I hugged everyone goodbye, and Zeke and I got out of there as quickly as possible. Which wasn’t quick enough. My mom held us up in the kitchen, taking her sweet time to pack up leftovers for Zeke.
I climbed into Zeke’s Jeep Wrangler and collapsed against the seat, drained. “I’m sorry I subjected you to my family.”
“No worries. They’re cool. Food was good. It was worth the trip.”
“You know that you’re too good to be true, right?”
He smiled. “Funny. That’s what I always thought about you.”
Proving yet again that he was just too perfect. And full of shit.
* * *
Zekeand I were laughing as we walked into Trinity Bar. The laughter died on my lips when I saw Connor sitting on a barstool, his folded arms resting on the zinc bar top as he talked to Louis. Just like it always did, my pulse raced at the sight of him. He looked over at the door, his electric-blue eyes searing me with their intensity. And I needed to remind myself how to breathe. How to stand on my own two feet after he’d just pulled the ground out from under me.
