Page 37 of One Twisted Lie

I narrow my eyes at him and consider yanking myself from his hold. Only for a second. “I dislike you.”

“No, you don’t,” he states. “When’s the last time your parents took you to the zoo?”

“My parents? You’re supposed to be a genius,” I snort, pointing out when we pass a particularly phallic-looking sculpture. “Can you ever imagine my parents stepping foot into a place like this?”

“Fine,” he concedes. “Which nanny?”

“Katie,” I smile, remembering the young college student who acted like my pseudo-mother for five years. “She was my favorite.”

“Why is that?”

“She’d always take me places and spend time with me. She wasn’t like the others who did the bare minimum.”

Katie actually acted like she gave a damn. Maybe she did or maybe she didn’t, but that doesn’t matter anymore. Katie treated me like I was worth something, not just the king of kings, but an actual human child. She gave me love when I needed it, attention when I craved it, and firmness when I earned it. She celebrated every accomplishment and remembered every birthday. Fuck, she was more present than my actual parents.

“She gave you attention,” Carter accurately deduces with an understanding nod. “That was Martha for me.”

“It was nice.”

“Our parents might hate each other, but they’re the same,” he chuckles with a small grin.

I wince. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

We stop in front of a display of light-penguins. The lights flicker in a way that makes them look like they’re marching. It’s cute. But I find it even cuter how those same blue lights reflect off Carter’s glasses, lighting up his already dark eyes. He hums to himself as he appreciates them, turning to me after a second. “Do you think they give a shit about us?”

He doesn’t need to clarify because I know what he’s talking about. It’s a question about our parents that floats through my brain every now and then. Whether our parents see us as more than their heirs apparent—me as more than another predator, Carter as more than just a workhorse.

“They have to, right?” I ask, cocking my head to the side as I roll my bottom lip into my mouth. “They’re our parents.”

“Do you hate them?”

“No,” I say quickly, knowing there’s no animosity there. They haven’t given me enough to hate anything. “Do you?”

“No,” he mimics. “But do you love them?”

“I…” I hesitate. Have they given me anything to love? They haven’t given me one ounce of what love should be, I know that. There are no warm and fuzzy feelings. There is no sense of comfort. Is that what’s required to love? “Define love.”

“Jesus…” Carter drawls, shaking his head at me. “You’re worse than I thought.”

“Is it weird to say I don’t feel any particular way? They’re my parents.”

He nods. “I get it. It’s hard to love what was absent. My parents aren’t bad, they’re just not there.”

That makes sense. When you’re absent, there’s nothing there. What’s to love when they ask you for things, things you previously thought you were okay with, things you want to take back—

“What do you think of the lights?” I ask, changing the conversation to something more pleasant. “They’re pretty, right?”

“Yeah, princess. This was a good suggestion,” he says, his praise making me preen like a fucking peacock. He steps closer, faces me, and digs his other hand into my other pocket. He ghosts his lips over mine, his voice husky and deep. “You look so pretty right now. All I want to do is bend you over—”

“Excuse me!”

A voice interrupts us, and we break apart with a start. There’s someone who’s an obvious tourist standing in front of us if you can judge them based on their “I Love New York” t-shirt and big bulky camera hanging around their neck.

“I’m sorry,” the lady’s highly accented voice rings out. She gestures behind her at her equally cheesy-dressed companion. “Would you take our picture?”

Carter and I look at each other, and we both shrug. “Sure.”

I take the camera from the lady and follow her and her friend as they pose in front of the purple elephant. I take a few pictures, directing them into several different poses before returning their camera. She doesn’t leave immediately and instead gestures at us. “Do you want one?”

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