Page 75 of A Smile Full of Lies
“Knox—”
“It’s your birthday,” I cut in. “We’re not talking work on your birthday.”
She exhaled, a long, begrudging sound, like conceding the point cost her. But I saw the flicker of relief in her shoulders when she finally dropped it.
“And what do you suggest we do instead?” she asked, arching a brow at me, trying for nonchalance.
I almost smiled. I knew exactly what I wanted us to do instead.
Her question hung in the air between us like bait.
I didn’t answer right away. I crossed to the liquor cabinet, the motion deliberate, giving her time to watch the muscles in my back shift while I opened the door. Her eyes tracked every move I made. I could feel her gaze like a caress on my skin.
The bottle waited where I’d put it two weeks ago: Screwball peanut butter whiskey… her favorite. I bought it the day she moved in, even though she hadn’t asked, even though she hadn’t breathed a word. Ros never asked for anything, but I always knew what she wanted.
I set the bottle on the counter with two glasses and leaned my hip against the island, letting the silence go taut between us until she finally arched a brow.
“What?” she asked, her voice dry but a shade too thin.
“It’s still your birthday.” I unscrewed the cap on the bottle and poured a neat shot into each glass. “And birthdays deserve a game.”
Her suspicion sharpened right along with her gaze.
“What kind of game?”
“Truth or dare.”
The look she gave me could have curdled milk. Then she huffed out a laugh, shaking her head like I’d just pulled the rug out from under her.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Dead serious.” I slid one of the glasses toward her. “You start.”
She lifted it, clinking the rim against mine without looking away.
“Fine. Truth or dare?”
She expected me to say dare. I saw it in the faint twitch at the corners of her mouth, the challenge in her eyes. Ros wanted to dare me into something reckless, something that would give her back the illusion of control.
But I wasn’t about to hand her that.
“Truth,” I said.
Her brows jumped up toward her hairline. Then her mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile. She was going to use this.
Good. I wanted her to.
She didn’t hesitate.
“If you wanted me back when I was dating Thayer… why’d you cover for him? At the frat party, when I asked you if you knew he was cheating, you refused to answer me, which obviously meant you did know. You didn’t warn me. You didn’t give me a heads-up. You didn’t breathe a single word about what he was doing behind my back. Why?”
The words hit like a knife to my chest, but not because they surprised me. I’d been waiting for them for years.
I lifted my glass and downed my shot of whiskey in a single swallow, letting the burn drag down my throat before I set my glass back on the counter with a sharp click.
Her gaze didn’t waver. She didn’t even blink.
Good girl.
