Page 50 of The Lies I've Told
Even if it meant forgetting everything I felt for her, because, now, it was starting to finally make sense. I was the distraction she couldn’t afford.
And she was right.
I’d break her heart just like he had, only it wouldn’t be intentional. Because, as much as I wanted to believe in our magical night together, as much as I wanted to believe it meant we were as destined as two souls could be, I was still speeding headfirst into a future she didn’t deserve.
And, as much as I didn’t want to break her heart, I knew it’d happen just the same.
Because I was a ticking time bomb, and like all explosives, I was bound to cause serious damage.
Twenty questions turned into forty, which turned into sixty and so on. Thankfully, the questions became less invasive as time went on, both of us exhausted after our lightning round of extremely personal questions.
Although part of me wanted to go back because, now that I had a sliver of information about him, I was craving more.
So much more.
And yet I knew I was treading on dangerous ground. In only a handful of days, I’d be gone, back in Florida, and this would all be over. So, why push this? Why try to get to know a man I’d never see again?
Because you like him, my inner voice pressed.
I let out a deep breath as the endless road passed by the window. We’d been on this particular boring stretch of North Carolina highway for what seemed like an eternity, but thankfully, we were almost to Mount Airy.
“You all right?” Aiden asked, his voice soft, as if he didn’t want to startle me.
“Yeah, sorry. Just bored.”
“Guess we ran out of questions,” he said. I could almost hear the smile in his tone.
“Yeah, but we gave it a good run. I think, if I’d bought more junk food, it would have lasted longer.”
“It’s really quite terrifying how much sugar you can eat without going into shock.”
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
That heavy silence settled between us once again. We’d spoken for hours during the first leg of the trip, and now, it was complete radio silence. Maybe it had been the sugar rush, propelling me forward and giving me the courage I now lacked. Or maybe I finally realized how much I didn’t want to go home.
“Here’s a question for you,” I finally said. “If you’re still up for them—more questions, that is.”
“Sure,” he answered, a sly smile creeping across his face.
“Why granite?” I asked. “I mean, why not marble or limestone? Or do you use those, too? Basically, tell me more about what you do.”
He laughed at my ridiculous attempt at a question, and I couldn’t help but join him.
“What? It’s not like you meet a sculptor every day, you know?”
I could see him nodding out of the corner of my eye. “I know. We’re a rare breed.”
“So, educate me.”
His voice deepened. “I’d love to.”
I swallowed hard, knowing his words meant so much more than stonework and chisels. I felt my cheeks redden as I stared straight ahead, trying to stay focused on the road.
“So, granite?”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, “It’s native to North Carolina; that’s why I chose it. But, to answer your question, yes, I use other materials. Just last week, I held a gallery showing with several different types of stone.”
“Do you prefer one over the other?”
