Page 7 of Reckless Liar

“It won’t be if you keep making a mess like you do. I’m about ready to kick you out of here. You need some lessons on basic eating habits. Ever heard of a table?”

He shrugged before tipping the bowl back to drink the last of the milk.

I rolled my eyes. “So childish.”

He put his bowl in the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher the wrong way. I’d need to fix it once he left.

“Have you thought about moving?”

“Moving,” I snorted. “Moving where? My job is here. My parents are here. You and Scarlett are here. We still have a few months on our lease.”

“Ana, you know I could find someone to take over your share if I really needed to.”

“Where would I go? This is my home.”

“You could start over somewhere else. Move to Salt Lake City, take up rock climbing. Move to Vermont and own an apple farm.”

“I could never do that. I love this place.”

“Even if it doesn’t always love you?”

His words felt a little too close to something I didn’t want to face. Trying to keep my tone light, I shrugged. “Ridgewood loves me fine. It’d miss me if I left.”

“You’re too good for this place. You always have been.” Xander’s face became more serious.

I shook my head. “No way. This is where I belong. This is where Max is buried. I couldn’t leave him. I belong here, near him.”

The smile on his face faded as he looked at me. “You belong to something so much more than this. You deserve so much better than you’ve gotten, more than all of us.”

“Don’t be silly, Xan.” I tried to laugh. Something about his demeanor had changed during our exchange. I wasn’t sure what it was. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He studied me for a moment, his warm hazel eyes soft. “I know you don’t. I know.” He walked to the kitchen table, grabbing his wallet. “I’m heading out. You need anything at the store?”

I shook my head, confused. “I just went.”

He paused in the doorway. “Right, okay.” He knocked on the doorframe three times as if to dispel some energy he had. As I watched the doorway, Xander gathered his things up and walked out the front door with nary a backward glance.

After he left, I tried to decipher his words. I felt like there was so much more Xander wasn’t telling me.

It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d read a double meaning in Xander’s words. There were times when I thought I caught him watching me. Times when I could feel him in the room before I saw him. It meant nothing. We were friends, that was the way friends were.

It had to be.

Chapter three

“Yeah, I can totally taste the note of currant.” -Ana during her first wine tasting.

Aftermonthsofonlybeing able to work a part time, I’d worked myself up to full time at the hospital. By then I knew the warning signs of the panic attacks—the heart palpitations, the sweating, the constriction of my chest making it hard to breathe. Most days I could quell the panic by doing my little patterns—clicking my pen three times before writing, turning the knob three times before entering a room, scrubbing my hands three times. Triple checking everything I’m doing, convinced that if I didn’t do the ritual, I’d give the wrong medication. I’d use the patient’s name three times in my conversations with them before I feel comfortable treating them. These patterns calm me enough to get through the day.

I wasn’t about to tell anyone about the patterns I created. They’d likely talk to my mom, and then where would I be?

I was twenty minutes late for my wine date with my friend, Scarlett. I was on edge. While at work, I had to treat a patient who seemed to know Max. While the woman said nothing too suspicious, the conversation jarred me.

“I hope you don’t mind. I ordered for you,” Scarlett said as I sat down at a high table. We’d decided on The Cabin, a dockside restaurant in Ridgewood’s touristy waterfront area.

“No worries, I have shit taste, so I’d probably order the same as you.”

I picked up the glass in front of me and took a deep swallow of the red wine, draining nearly half the glass.

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