Page 118 of The Lies I've Told
Maybe this was all a dream.
But then the front door opened, and he was gone.
I’m sorry, Molly, I thought.I can’t fight anymore.
I’ve lost the war.
The key went into the lock with surprising ease.
I didn’t know why I thought it wouldn’t.
I guessed I’d thought walking back into this empty, upscale apartment after my life had fallen apart would be harder.
Again.
But, at this point, I just felt numb.
Molly and the rest of my family and friends had begged me to stay after Aiden’s abrupt departure. Well, actually, they’d first begged me to go track him down and cut off certain parts of his anatomy.
It was a sweet offer, but after a few days of sulking around the inn, I’d needed the space.
Being in Ocracoke right now would have been suffocating. Everything had reminded me of him, and I’d already shed far too many tears over that man.
God knows he’d probably forgotten all about me the second he stepped foot onto the mainland. Hell, he’d probably already found himself a new distraction now that he was back home with his perfect warehouse art studio and top-of-the-line medical care.
Dropping all my stuff on the floor in the middle of the living room, I went for the kitchen. Knowing I probably had nothing to eat, I went for the wine.
Now, wasn’t this a serious case of déjà vu?
Bottle of wine, lonely party for one.
Yep, I’d done this before.
Only this time, it hurt so much worse.
Just as I was about to make it a full circle event and take my pity party into my closet like I’d done before, a quiet knock sounded on my door.
It was probably the nice old lady who lived next door. She was one of the only people I knew in the building, having spent the majority of the time I lived here traveling, but I always managed to carve out a bit of time for her and usually brought a little something back for her from my travels.
Unfortunately, this time around, all I’d managed to bring was heartache, and I doubted she’d want any of that.
With the bottle of unopened rosé still in my hand, I the door and pulled it back open, expecting to see Mrs. Metzler standing on the other side.
Instead, I was met with an impressive dark-haired man wearing a designer suit I could call by name, based on the pin-striped pattern and the buttery dark gray fabric.
“Millie?” he said as I was admiring his attire.
“Yes?”
“You are a hard woman to track down. Do you mind if I pop in? I’ve been all over, the place trying to find you.”
His accent was distinctly English, something I was trying to avoid these days.
“Do you mind telling me who you are first?” I eyed him suspiciously. A good fashion sense could only get you so far in my book.
“My name is James Griffin. I’m—”
“Aiden’s brother,” I said, finishing his sentence. “What are you doing here? Is he okay?”
