Love Me With Lies 03 Thief (11 page)

“Is it weird that I know how to do a braid?”

She laughs in between her crying and watches me. I tie off the braid with the hair tie and flip it over her shoulder. Now I can see her.

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I hate that you always make jokes when I’m trying to feel sorry for myself.”

“I hate that I always make you cry.” I rub little circles on her wrist with my thumb. I want to touch her more, but I know I shouldn’t.

“Duchess, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I thought that if we had a clean slate…” My voice trails off because there is no such thing as a clean slate. I know that now. You just embrace your dirty slate and build over it. I kiss her wrist. “Let me carry you out. I’ll never let you touch the ground. I was made to carry you, Olivia. You’re fucking heavy with all of your guilt and self-loathing. But, I can do it. Because I love you.”

She has her pinky pressed against her lips as if she’s trying to hold everything in. This is a new Oliviaism. I like it. I pull her pinky away from her lips, and instead of dropping her hand I lace my fingers through hers.
God, how long has it been since I’ve held her hand?
I feel like a little boy. I fight back the smile that is trying to take over my face.

“Tell me,” I say. “Peter Pan…”

“Noah,” she breathes.

“Where is he, Duchess?”

“He’s in Munich right now. Last week, Stockholm, the week before that, Amsterdam.” She looks away. “We’re not … we’re taking a break.”

I shake my head. “A break from what? Marriage or each other?”

“We like each other. Marriage, I guess.”

“Fuck, that doesn’t even make sense,” I say. “If we were married I wouldn’t let you out of my bed, never mind my sight.”

She pulls a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are guys like me out there, and I wouldn’t let them get near you. What’s he playing at?”

She’s quiet for a long time. Then she blurts:

“He doesn’t want children.”

Estella’s face blurs my vision before I ask…

“Why not?”

She shrugs; trying to pretend like it’s nothing. “His sister has Cystic Fibrosis. He’s a carrier. He’s seen how much she’s suffered and he doesn’t want to bring children into the world with the risk of them having it.”

I can see how much it bothers her. Her mouth is pinched and her eyes are darting around the tabletop as if she’s searching for a crumb.

I swallow. This is a touchy subject for me too.

“Did you know that before you married him?”

She nods. “I didn’t want children before I married him.”

I stand up. I don’t want to hear her talk about how Noah made her want things that I couldn’t make her want. I must look sulky because she rolls her eyes.

“Sit down,” she snaps. “I see you still play footsie with your inner child.”

I walk to the floor-to-ceiling window that circles her living room and look out. I ask the question I don’t want to ask, but I can’t
not
know. I am jealous.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’ve changed, Caleb.” She gets up and comes to stand next to me. I glance at her and see that her arms are crossed over her chest. She is wearing a long sleeve, grey cotton shirt and black pants that sit low on her hips so that a few inches of flesh are exposed. Her hair is loosely braided over her shoulder. She stares out at the traffic that is zooming below us. She looks badass. I smirk and shake my head.

“I never felt worthy enough to have babies. Duh — right? I have all those super cool daddy issues.”

“Aw, man. Are you still working through those?”

She grins.

“Little bit here and there. I can have sex now.”

I cock up one corner of my mouth and narrow my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I cured you of that.”

Her eyelashes beat so rapidly they could blow out a match. She chews on her lip to keep from smiling.

I tilt my head back and laugh. We both get such a kick out of making each other uncomfortable.
God, I love this woman.

“You did though,” she says. “Despite what you think, it wasn’t because of your bedroom moves. It was what you did to get me back.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“The amnesia?” I’m surprised.

She nods slowly. She’s still looking out the window, but my body is pivoted toward her now.

“You’re not that person … the one who lies and does crazy things. That’s me. I couldn’t believe you did that.”

“You are crazy.”

She shoots me an annoyed look.

“You broke your own moral code. I figured if someone like you would fight for me, I might actually be worth something.”

I look at her earnestly. I don’t want to say too much, or too little.

“You are worth fighting for. I haven’t given up yet.”

Her head snaps up. She looks alarmed.

“Well, you should. I’m married.”

“Yeah, you got married, didn’t you? But, you only did it because you thought we were over — and we’re not over. We’ll never be over. If you think that little piece of metal on your finger can shield off your feelings for me, you’re wrong. I wore one for five years and there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t wishing it were you.”

I look at her lips, lips that I want to kiss. I turn and grab my keys to leave before we can start fighting — or kissing. She stays at the window. Before I walk out of the living room, I say her name.

“Olivia.”

She looks at me over her shoulder. Her braid swings across her back like a pendulum.

“Your marriage won’t last. Tell Noah the truth; be fair. When you do, come find me, and I’ll give you that baby.”

I don’t stay to watch her reaction.

I feel guilty that I’m offering my ex-girlfriend a baby when my current girlfriend is probably at my house, waiting for me — wanting me to offer her a marriage. My life comes into focus when I walk through my front door. There is music playing loudly from my stereo. I walk over and turn it down. Jessica is at the stove, flipping something in a frying pan. It amazes me that she wants to cook even when she’s not at work. You’d think she’d be sick of it by now. I sit at a barstool and watch her until she turns around.

She must see something on my face. She sets down the wooden spoon she is holding and wipes her hands with a dishtowel before walking over to me. I can see the sauce of whatever she is cooking pooling on the counter under the spoon. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop looking at that spoon.

I grind my teeth as she walks toward me. I don’t want to hurt her, but if I do what I did with Leah, I’ll land up staying just to protect her heart. It’ll be halfhearted, because the only thing I want in life is to protect Olivia’s heart.

When she reaches for me, I grab her hands and hold them. She can see the breakup in my eyes; she shakes her head before I’ve opened my mouth.

“I’m still in love with Olivia,” I say. “It’s never going to be fair to anyone I’m with. I don’t want to give you pieces of me.”

Her tears pool and then spill.

“I think I knew that,” she says, nodding. “Not the cause, but you’re different. I thought it was because of what happened with Leah and Estella.”

I flinch.

“I’m so sorry, Jessica.”

“She’s a bitch, Caleb. You know that, right?”

“Jess-”

“No, listen to me. She’s a bad person. She defends bad people. Then out of the blue, she calls you in the middle of the night and wants you to come rescue her. She’s cunning.”

I rub my forehead.

“It’s not like that. She’s not like that. She’s married, Jessica. I don’t get to be with her. I just don’t want to be with anyone else.”

I look at the spoon and then I force myself to look at Jessica.

“I’d want to have children.”

She backs up a step. “You said you didn’t.”

I nod. “Yes, I spoke out of hurt. Because of what happened with … Estella.” It’s the first time I’ve said her name in a very long time. It hurts.

“I’ve always wanted a family. But, I don’t want to be married to someone and pretend I don’t want kids.”

She shakes her head; it starts slowly and then speeds up.

“I have to go,” she says. She runs to the room to grab her things. I don’t stop her. There is no point. Once again, I’ve hurt someone because of my feelings for Olivia.
When will it stop? Will it ever stop?
I can’t do this to anyone again. It’s got to be Olivia or nothing for me.

Four o’clock, five o’clock, six o’clock, seven. I still wasn’t out of the building. I’d been waiting four hours for papers. Papers! As if the rest of my life depended on me signing my name to a piece of paper. I glanced at the clock. I was supposed to be at Olivia’s an hour ago. I checked my phone. She hadn’t called. Maybe she was still busy packing.

“Caleb,” my co-worker, Neal, stuck his head through the door, “you sticking around for the party?”

I grinned. “No, I have somewhere to be tonight.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You have somewhere better to be than a dinner your boss is throwing for potential clients?”

“My boss is also my stepfather,” I said, typing into my keyboard. “Pretty sure I can swing it.” My secretary popped her head next to Neal’s.

“Caleb, Sidney Orrico is here. She says she has some things for you to sign.”

I jumped out of my chair. “Send her in.”

Neal raised his eyebrows, but his head disappeared and was replaced by Sidney’s.

“Hey you,” she said.

I stood up and walked around the desk to greet her.

Sidney Orrico: brown curls, dimples, blue eyes, long legs. We were neighbors, we went to the same school, and our mothers dragged us along to social events and then forced us to interact. We saw each other regularly, and by force or by nature, we became friends. And then we became more. It started with a kiss on the fourth of July. After the first kiss, we’d hide out in the rec room at my house and make out on the pool table every chance we got. After a few weeks, I worked my way up to second base. By the end of our first summer together, I’d claimed her virginity. When we started school in the fall, things got awkward … really, really awkward.

Sidney wanted a boyfriend. I wanted a friend with benefits. My fifteen-year-old self tried to explain this to her, but she started crying and then I made out with her just to quell the tears. Then we had sex, and then I had to explain the whole no-dating thing to her again. She slapped me across the face and swore that she was never going to talk to me again.

Not true. She wouldn’t stop talking to me. Fifteen-year-old girls are intense — especially when they think they’re in love. When she caught me at a popular ice cream place on a date with another girl, she went postal, dumping an entire bowl of dripping chocolate ice cream on my lap.

Sidney Orrico.

Fortunately, for me, she backed off after the ice cream incident. She dated my brother for a while, and then broke up with him for a quarterback. We saw each other randomly after that — holiday parties, prom, the mall. By the time I was dating Olivia, I hadn’t seen her in at least a year. She had bypassed college and had gone to real estate school. My mother told me she was working for her father’s development company. That’s when things got sticky.