Page 78 of Reckless Liar

“Of course, now get out here.” I pushed her away playfully.

I watched her walk away from me, the smile slipping from my face and the weight of my basket on my arm.

Chapter twenty-eight

“I don't know where those came from.” -Ana, age seventeen, when her mother found condoms in her room.

WhenIgothome,I dumped the contents of the plastic bag on the counter and studied them. I picked up the test, turning the box over in my hands to read the instructions. I’d taken a few of these before. I knew that while the description said the results would take five minutes if you took the test correctly it was a matter of seconds before you had your answer. I ran a finger over the edge of the flap, teasing it open.

I could feel the foil wrapper under my shaking fingers. I set the box down on the counter and studied myself in the mirror. I had taken the lie too far. I was lying to Scarlett, to my mother... Holding the test in my hand, I pictured how seeing a positive result would feel.

So many times, with Max I’d pictured our child together—the olive skin, the blue eyes, the thick dark hair. I could close my eyes and conjure up exactly what our baby would look like, but never once could I imagine Max as a father, as a responsible parent, a caregiver, and a provider.

Every time we had a scare, I’d be terrified of the idea of being pregnant. The timing was never right for us. I wasn’t sure if there’d have ever been a time when it could have been right.

I loved Max, but the farther from his death I got, the more I realized how different we were. We never wanted the same things; we never had the same aspirations. The kind of love we had was never sustainable through real struggles. It wouldn’t have withstood the vigor of a child.

It was different with Xander. Because we’d only been together for a few months, I expected fear but the idea that I might be pregnant with Xander’s baby didn’t scare me. He’d be a great father, he loved me, and he would love a child. I could imagine it. Coming home to him, falling asleep in our bed with a child wedged sideways between us. I could picture the soft curls under my fingers and the spray of freckles across his nose.

I was ready. If the test was positive, I was ready for a future with Xander. It took this for me to realize everything I’d been holding back. I loved him. I’ve loved him for years. I loved him that day on Scarlett’s couch while we watched the movie, and I loved him that night in his car after prom. In my own way I even loved him that day on the curb where I pressed my lips to his, trying to destroy the jealousy that’d haunt me for years to come. All those nights we spent together before Max had died. I never allowed myself to see past what I thought Max and I had to feel what I’d always known was there with him. I was meant to be with Xander. Every misstep I had taken on this journey to find myself led me here to this moment. I loved him fiercely. I loved him beyond all my reasoning. I craved him, I needed him. I loved him.

I was in love with him.

I loved Alexander Eberhardt.

Suddenly the box felt too heavy in my hand. I set it down at the counter. I didn’t have to take it yet. The moment I took that test I knew I was facing the chance that my entire life was going to be turned upside down. I had the impulse to have one last day with Xander without all these serious concerns. I wanted one day when I could love him without sharing myself again.

I would tell him when he got home from work. It didn’t matter what the test said, I loved him either way. I didn’t need a pregnancy test to determine how I felt about Xander. It was simply the push I needed to realize my feelings.

As much as I wanted to tell him my revelation when he walked in the door, I wanted to wait until we ate the lasagna, I’d specially prepared for us. I knew that every time I looked over my plate at him, I would want to scream, “I realized that I’m crazy in love with you!“ but it would be worth it once the perfect moment presented itself.

All through dinner Xander was quiet, answering my question with one-word answers and avoiding my eyes. I kept telling myself that he must have had a hard day at work and was in a bit of a funk. I went to wash the dishes, a job that he’d normally do since I was the one who cooked. I told him to relax on the couch. I could hear the TV turn on; some show about diners on Route 66.

I practiced what I was going to say in my head as I loaded the dishwasher. First, we would have sex and then when we were in the moment, I would say the words. Simple and straightforward.

He’d told me that he loved me enough that I wasn’t nervous about him saying it back. I knew he would. I could already see the new direction we’d go from here. I would tell Scarlett as soon as I could. I’d ask my parents to have him over for dinner to get to know him in this new capacity.

Once I was done with the dishes I settled into him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm was stiff on the top of the couch above me.

I placed my hand on the front of his pants, leaning in to deepen our kiss. He barely kissed me back, his body was tense. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as he took my hand in his to pull it away from him and dropped it between us.

“I don’t want to,” he said stiffly.

“You don’t want to?” I sat back, scoffing at him, “Are your serious right now?”

He looked away from me, grimacing. “Yeah, I am.”

“What the hell is going on Alexander?” I asked perplexed. “You were moody all through dinner and now you don’t want sex. What happened to you today?”

Xander muted the TV and turned to me, his face serious. “Do you not want to be seen in public with me?”

I glanced at him with my cheeks burning red. “What? No, I mean, yes... I mean...” I huffed loudly, screwing up my face. “I don’t mind being seen in public with you.”

“But you don’t want me to act like your boyfriend,” he stated.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked. I racked my brain trying to think of what could have possibly changed in the hours since I was at work.

“Are you going to answer the question?” He strung out each word slowly. “Am I your boyfriend?”

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