Page 83 of Reckless Liar

“Well, shit.” She cursed under her breath as she laid back on the bed.

I laid next to her, looking up at the ceiling. “I know.”

Chapter twenty-nine

“Love is pain.” -Ana's favorite action romance movie.

WhenIlostMax,I counted every minute going by. I kept track of the days, the weeks, the months, where all I had was my grief to keep me rooted to the ground. There was a solace in that level of pain. I had every reason to sink into the blue, I had every excuse to leave my world.

Losing Max taught me how much pain I could endure. It taught me that no matter how much heartbreak I had, the world still turned around me. It seemed that, after years of resisting, years of telling myself I was only friends with Xander, I learned too late that I was wrong on every count.

In a nasty twist of timing, I got my period the day I moved out of the condo. It was two days after Xander left. My parents didn’t ask questions when I came home, mismatched suitcases in hand, asking if I could stay. My father hired a moving company for everything else. Normally, the idea of strangers touching my belongings would’ve set me on edge, but I couldn’t dredge up enough energy to fight it.

Inexplicably, my parents kept my room perfectly preserved. Coming back to that room, all I could think about was how Xander and I made out on my bed as the New Year’s party was going on without us only a few months before. I thought about how we’d gone home that night and forged ahead down the perilous path to our mutual heartbreak.

My mother subdued her curiosity when she left me alone for weeks. Sure, she was always asking if I wanted to talk, but when I refused, she’d quickly change the subject. I never loved her more. I think she knew my heartache was different from all the other times before it when Max hurt my feelings.

She never liked Max; she never liked the way Max treated me. I knew she was right to feel that way. If I had a daughter, I’d feel the same way.

I was lazing around in bed when she sauntered into my room, a basket of clothes under her arm. With a creased brow she set the basket down on the bed beside me.

“I’m sure it’s all terribly old fashioned for you, but I was getting rid of some clothes and figured, since we wear the same size, you might want to look through them before I donate them.”

I reached into the basket, answering in the affirmative. She sat down on the other side of the basket and began pulling out items she thought I’d like. While some of the clothes weren’t my style, she had an eye for classics I could certainly wear. Her clothes were all name brands, expensively made and therefore well-constructed.

“So, I know I’m not supposed to ask,” she paused to smooth out the front of a white button-down shirt she had laying across her lap. “But I’m guessing your moving out of the apartment has something to do with Alexander.”

I fought back the sting at hearing his name out loud. “You could say that.”

“Did he or did you two...” she trailed off. I glanced over and saw that her cheeks had pinkened at the unfinished question.

A long, tense silence settled over us. I opened my mouth several times before I was able to will the words to appear. “We were involved... romantically.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips. “And he did something to hurt you. Like Maximilian did?”

“No. The opposite, actually.” I shook my head. Despite all the hurt I’d suffered from Xander, I couldn’t bring myself to disparage him. “He’s not like Max. I know they grew up in the same neighborhood, but Xander is inherently good. I didn’t expect he’d begin to have feelings for me. I didn’t expect that.”

I gulped the words down. “He was good for me. How I felt,” I grimaced knowing words would never be enough. “How I feel, it’s different than it was with Max. It feels more...” I struggled to find the right word to describe the difference and came up short. All I knew was I felt safe with Xander. I knew that would matter to my mother. “Substantial.”

“Substantial?” She frowned at me. “I never thought I’d hear you use that word as a positive.”

“Things change. I changed. When I lost Max, I was so broken up about losing him and the life I thought I’d have with him. Things changed in me. I found some stuff out about Max, and I grew up. I had to.”

“If I could’ve done something to help you, or to help him...”

“Xander helped me. He saved me really, and I think that I saved him. We helped each other get through the grief. Once the dust settled, it felt like I could see him. For the first time I really saw Xander. He’s such a good person, and for so long he wanted to protect me.”

“He’s in love with you,” she replied softly, taking my hand in hers. My mother had spent so much time trying to talk me out of the relationship when I was with Max. I assumed she couldn’t understand what Max and I had. At that moment, I looked down at our entwined hands. Her perfect half-moon nails were polished with a tasteful sheer shade. An unusually small diamond solitaire ring graced her left ring finger. I remembered years before, when I asked her why they’d never upgraded her wedding ring, she’d laughed and said something about sentimentality. Suddenly, I was overcome by the sight of it. My mother could never be called a modest woman, but that token of love given to her by my father in their earlier days was the only piece of jewelry she was never without.

“Hewasin love with me. I doubt he still is. I messed everything up,“ I whimpered. Tears welled in my eyes, and I couldn’t fight them back any longer. I’d ruined my shot at happiness. I had a chance at love, the silent and tender kind that endured through the years. The kind I now knew I’d never have with Max. I’d had a real chance at that with Xander and I ruined it.

“I keep thinking about what you used to tell me when I was younger.No man who is worth your tears will make you cry and no man who makes you cry is ever worth your tears.”

I was surprised when she scoffed loudly. “That’s a dumb saying. It may have been true when you were fifteen, but not anymore. Anything worth having is worth a few tears. No relationship is ever perfect. You think your father hasn’t made me cry? That I haven’t done things that hurt him equally bad? It happens. Loving someone is choosing to believe the good in them every day. But that doesn’t mean we always make good choices handling each other.”

“Isn’t believing in Max’s good the very thing that got me hurt?” I asked softly. “If I’d only been a little more realistic about him, maybe I could’ve spared myself the heartache.”

“Maybe,” she demurred. She leaned forward and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “But if you want my opinion, it wasn’t you wanting to see the good in Max that got you in that mess. It was not seeing the good in yourself.”

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