Page 58 of Sugar Coated Lies
That one day rocked my existence. I got a glimpse of what her life is like, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking—obsessing—over all she does. No. It’s more than that. I admire her in a way I never have any woman. I respect her for how she handles herself and her situation without complaint. She works hard when she’s here and even harder at home. She’s driven, a survivor of so much, and still sweet and kind.
She’s exquisite inside and out. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, but she’s stunning. Gorgeous in a way no other woman could compare. It radiates from her like sunlight, showing in her smile, her laughter, and the sparkle in her cobalt eyes. I’ve noticed extra weight on her, too. From the beginning, I’ve made sure Millie feeds her breakfast, lunch, snacks, whatever baked goods she wants, and sends her home with meals that she only needs to reheat.
At the time, I didn’t know how helpful and important this would be to her. I also made sure she didn’t know. The last thing Everleigh wants is to look weak or incapable.
I love the healthier glow she has and the happiness I see in her, but I hate the sadness I catch in her eyes when she’s alone and thinks no one is watching. I hate it most because I suspect I put it there.
My parents returned last night from their golf trip to Augusta. Before they left, a revolutionary idea had come to me. I told my mom and dad not to mention Everleigh’s name to Roman or his wife because she dated Benedict briefly and it didn’t end well.
Dad appeared confused that Everleigh would ever date someone like Benedict, but Mom seemed to understand.
She let out a heavy sigh and said, “Benedict is easy to get caught up in, but he needs a lot of work. I’ll be sure not to mention her, and I’ll make sure your father doesn’t either.”
I knew at that moment, the secret of Everleigh working here would be safe. Crisis averted, temporarily.
Since I can’t hang out downstairs in the store for much longer without looking suspicious, I make my way up the stairs to the second floor. At least I don’t have to worry about Easton flirting with Everleigh or Tennie giving her the cold shoulder.
Both are gone. Easton to Dad’s yacht in Miami, where he and some friends are partying for the weekend, and Tennie back home. I knew she’d give up on Easton and get bored once she realized he wouldn’t give her what she wanted. At least Easton is smart enough not to make my mistake. A fling with Tennie comes with tight strings that are hard to cut loose.
In my office, I check in with my PI to see if he has any more information. The last email he sent me said Everleigh was with her friend Sadie on vacation staying at the Bohemian during the same time that Benedict had his father’s yacht in Savannah.
He also verified that Benedict’s card was stolen and charged. He was telling the truth. I just don’t believe Everleigh stole it—not with everything I know about her. The woman wouldn’t take money if it were thrust into her face. She has too much pride and would only accept things she’s earned.
Something else happened on that boat, and the only people who know the answer are Everleigh and Benedict.
I need to know who stole the card so I can present it as proof that Everleigh isn’t a thief.
My phone chimes with a text. My heart pounds briefly when I see who it’s from.
Shit. I grab my chest. This kind of stress isn’t good for my health.
Benedict: The clubs are calling to me. When are WE getting back to Atlanta? I’m dying of boredom out here. I’m so bored I might take a road trip to the farm just to get your ass back to the city.
Fuck. Was he always this needy and I didn’t see it before, or has he changed? I’ve become more independent, as was expected of me, but he’s regressing. And clubs? Ugh. We partied so hard in college, I’m over the club scene. It’s time to build our future. Doesn’t he get that?
Me:If you think it’s boring in Augusta, you must have forgotten how dull it is here. Save yourself the depression. Besides, I’m buried in work. Also, you’re a grown fucking man. You don’t need me or my condo to party in Atlanta.
Benedict: But you’re my wingman.
Me: You don’t need a wingman.
Benedict: Adulting sucks.
Me: Is that what you call what you’re doing?
Benedict: Fuck off.
Me: You first.
I grin.
If this keeps up, I may have to pay him a visit just to keep him away from here.
I pull up the schedule and see that Millie has Everleigh working tomorrow. She was off Tuesday and Wednesday. It was all I could do not to drive out and check on her and Miles. I spent the bulk of those two days wondering what she was doing, if she and Miles were okay, and if they needed help, if they needed anything.
I force myself to stay busy, going over production spreadsheets that I’ve read twice already. By the time I get up to stretch my legs, it’s after 6:00 p.m. Damn. I’d planned to see Everleigh out. If I don’t talk to her soon—more than a passing nod or wave—she’ll think I’m avoiding her. I have been, but not because I don’t like her working here. I love having her here. I want her here all the time, but after what she said to me last week, I wanted to give her space.
Maybe if she clears her head, she’ll see that dating me isn’t a bad idea. Maybe not. I’d never push the issue. Her response was mature and understandable. If something bad did occur between us—although I can’t see that happening—things could get awkward. I would hate for her to feel she couldn’t work here anymore and leave as a result.
