Tell Me No Lies: The Black Orchid, Book 1 (6 page)

Chapter Eight

I didn’t see my supervisor, but I knew he was close in our maze of cubicles. I tried to pick up my pace and turn the corner could see me, but damn if I didn’t walk directly into him.

He patted me on my back. “Give any thought to what we discussed?”

Sam matched my stride as I turned into my office. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“What’s to think about? Don’t you like money?”

“Of course, I like money. I’m just…conflicted.” I turned away from him and gazed at a charcoal sketch of the North Carolina mountains on my wall.

“About?”

“Being happy,” I mumbled under my breath.

“What?”

I turned around and faced him. “Being happy!” I said, rather emphatically and way too loud. “Being happy,” I repeated in a normal tone.

“Being happy?” He looked at me strangely, as if he didn’t understand the concept.

I shrugged vaguely. I didn’t want to discuss this matter with him. I went to my desk, picked up several folders and begin rifling through them.

“It’s nothing really. I’ll have an answer for you. End of the month, just like you requested.”

He looked puzzled for a moment. “All right then. I look forward to hearing your decision.”

I nodded to him as he left and then reached for my vibrating cell phone. It was my sister.

“So, Mom said you got a promotion at work. You don’t know if you’re going to take it? What’s the controversy?”

“No controversy, not really.”

She immediately responded. “When are you going to pursue your café idea? I mean, like what are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean? I was done with all of that when I got my MBA.”

She was silent for a moment. “I get that you wanted to please Mom and Dad. But you’ve done that. When are you going to make yourself happy?”

Happy.
I closed my eyes, then tighter so tears would not fall down my cheeks.

“Rain, are you there?”

“Yes.” I opened my eyes and cleared my throat. “Why have you never been concerned with making Mom and Dad happy? Didn’t they want you to go to medical school at one time?”

She cackled into the phone. “That dream ended when I clogged the toilet with my Doctor Barbie doll.”

I could practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.

“I think I was seven. Mom and Dad have never put the same pressure on me as they have you.”

“I wonder why?”

“Maybe because they learned early on I’m not susceptible to their influence. I’m going to be me, regardless.

“I just know what I want and I go for it. I’m doing what I want,” Haley said, pointing out the obvious. “It always surprised me that you quit on your dream like that. I mean, you’d defied our parents by getting the education you wanted and then you were going to New York, which should have been awesome. But then you returned from your trip to Jamaica and then nothing. What happened to you there? You never said.”

There was a long silence and I couldn’t find the words to break it. It wasn’t about what happened in Jamaica, it was after that destroyed me. And I hadn’t shared the humiliating details with anyone but Charlotte.

“I was away at school, but Mom said you kinda had a meltdown and then went through this weird hermit phase.”

“Wait. Mom said all of that? I barely saw her, how would she even know what was going on with me? I didn’t melt down. I wasn’t a hermit. I mean really, a hermit?”

“Whatever. But then you apparently, no obviously, recovered to some extent. Mom fairly crowed when you found your current job. But to me, it seemed like you just gave up on all of your hopes and dreams and became Mom and Dad’s little puppet.”

My temples pounded in earnest. “Puppet? You don’t consider my life a success?” My eyes darted around my large corner office furnished with heavy Oak and Italian leather furniture. I certainly had the appearance of doing well.

She snorted into the phone. Full of derision, I might add. “I’ve always thought that you had to be dissatisfied with your life. How could you not be, doing what other people want you to do? I have to tell you, Rain, I’ve always been a little confused and, dare I say disappointed in your life choices.”

I removed my phone from my ear and stared at it. I put the phone on speaker, set it down and bowed my head, rubbing my temples.

“Remember that time Mom and Dad went out of town for the weekend and you stopped straightening your hair and wore it all natural, wild curls everywhere.”

I closed my eyes, remembering my senior year when my parents left me in charge while they attended a funeral in Seattle. I’d washed my hair and let it air dry. I’d felt different, more myself.

I opened my eyes, almost smiled. “I remember. Mother grounded me for a month and told me never to go outside of the house again with my hair looking like I’d slept on the streets for a month.”

“It was beautiful and cool looking.” She giggled. “I remember all of my girlfriends wanted to get their hair styled like yours. You acted different when they were gone with your hair like that.”

I’d never tried to wear my hair natural since my mother chewed me out for looking, in her words, unsophisticated and barbaric. Frowning, I focused on my sister’s words. “Different how?”

Haley’s voice went fuzzy. “I don’t know, happier? Yeah, happy and relaxed. And fun for once.”

For once? My throat constricted. “I’m not fun?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Maybe I’ve said too much. Anyway, that’s not why I called.”

My mind was a kaleidoscope of thoughts, none of them good. I struggled for a normal-sounding voice, but I couldn’t focus.
I’m not fun? My baby sister is disappointed in me? She doesn’t think I’m successful?

“Why did you call?” My voice came out harsher than intended.

“Uh, are you mad at me?”

I put a smile in my voice. “Of course not. I always appreciate your candor, you know that.”

She giggled, sounding exactly like the five-year-old that would sneak into my bed during thunderstorms and demand I distract her with silly stories until she fell asleep.

“I think I might be falling deeply in like with somebody. I’m fighting it though.”

The thoughts running through my head screeched to a halt and immediately shifted into big sister mode.

“What’s going on, Haley?”

“Okay, So, I like this guy but he doesn’t make enough money.” She sounded pissed at somebody, probably herself. Her phone clicked and she paused. “It’s my agent, hopefully with a new modeling gig. I gotta get that.”

“Okay, but we need to talk about—” The phone disconnected before I could finish my thought.

I set it down and stared into space. A moment later, the buzzing of my office phone interrupted my troubled thoughts.

“Yes, Mary?”

“You have a guest at the front desk.” I could hear amusement in her voice.

I glanced at my appointment calendar, nothing on deck for today. “Did he or she give their name?”

She laughed. “No, but I can tell you
he
has flowers.” She lowered her voice. “And he’s
very
handsome.” She tittered like a schoolgirl.

My mind immediately traveled to a dangerous place and I could see his face. I could think of only one man that could make a grown woman regress to third grade.

It couldn’t be him.

I looked out my window.

Hope to see you soon
.

The sky was a pale blue and the sun shone brightly in streaks of pale yellow. Nope, hell wasn’t freezing over.

For so long, I’d hoped he would just appear out of the blue. So many times, I thought I saw him in crowds. But it was never him. Eventually, I’d stopped hoping. Okay, I did kind of, sort of have a meltdown but it really wasn’t that dramatic.

I just stopped eating and showering and brushing my hair for a few days. Well, no, more like a few weeks. But that was after a month had passed and I realized he hadn’t called. Wouldn’t be calling.

I’d tried to contact him. The email he’d given me bounced back, and the phone number was out of service. When I’d searched online for another way to reach out to him, I couldn’t find a trace of him
anywhere
.

It was like he didn’t exist. Or rather, I’d made him up. Only Charlotte was always there to remind me that, yes, he did exist. And yes, he was a jerk, a jerk that I should immediately get over. She was, in fact, adamant that I get over him and not the least bit sympathetic for my lovesick state.

The postcard had appeared a few weeks ago, like a message in a bottle. Effectively confusing the hell out of me.

“I’ll be right out, Mary.”

I stood in front of the elevator, suddenly nervous. I shook my head.

It couldn’t be him.

I stepped onto the elevator and rode down to the lobby.

He
was the reason I didn’t go to New York. He was the reason I’d decided not to get a loan, buy the place on Martin Street when I’d already placed a down payment on it. My parents did not want me to open a beignet cafe. They thought it was an exercise in futility. I’d thought they were wrong, but after Jamaica, after Kael, I doubted all of my decisions.

How could I have been so wrong about a person? Obviously my judgment sucked. If I couldn’t tell when a man was playing me, looking me straight in my face and lying, how could I know what was right for me, for my career?

My parents would never steer me wrong. So when I climbed out of my deep depression, I played the role of the good girl, the dutiful daughter and did what my parents wanted. Chucked my hopes and dreams and settled down for a nice, boring but stable office job. My life became routine. And all of my carefully laid plans? They were tied to a rock and tossed into an ocean of obscurity.

The doors opened and I saw a man with his back to me. He turned to face me as I approached.

My heart stopped. It
was
him, holding a bouquet of cream-colored roses. Just like that, my throat was suddenly dry and I had forgotten how to breathe. Despite how much I hated him, I smiled, hoping I looked like perfection in his eyes.

“Kael?”

His ever-changing eyes were a smoky gray today. I couldn’t read the expression in them. They were guarded, but his lips were curled into a sincere smile.

He presented the flowers to me. “It’s been forever.”

I took the flowers, smelling their fragrance. “They’re beautiful.”

Time seemed to freeze and I realized Mary was enjoying our conversation. She grinned at me while I signed Kael into our guest book. Mary handed me a guest badge that I in turn clipped to the button-down shirt Kael wore. I could feel the thick, hard muscles of his chest through the silk material.

I hesitated for a moment. I was afraid to touch him. But he was so beautiful, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He looked so earnest, it was almost as if my heart had nothing to fear.

“Let’s go to my office. We can talk in private there.”

I led the way, painfully aware of his presence behind me. Notes of his fragrance danced around us: lemon, sea salt, ozone? Sudden images of us in Jamaica together crowded my mind. We stepped on the elevator and I could remember dancing with him under the stars.

My eyes met his in the reflection of the elevator door. A jolt of electricity coursed through my body. Did he feel it?

He was too close, I decided. I stepped away, praying for someone to join us in our ride. Naturally, no one did. We arrived at my floor and stepped off of the elevator, still silent.

The walk seemed endless and then we were at my office. Once my door was closed, I got comfortable in my leather chair, allowed myself to gaze at him for the first time in two years.

He looked exactly the same except for his eyes. They seemed harder, colder…until he smiled. And then they lit up. But they still seemed older, weary.

“Did you get a postcard from me?”

I couldn’t answer him. I could not open my mouth to form words or make sounds. It was like seeing an apparition. Even with the postcard apparently forewarning this moment, I was completely unprepared for this meeting.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” He leaned back in his chair. He sat with his legs spread wide, hands on both armrests. He licked his lips and looked at his leather loafers while I continued my piercing gaze.

But then I found my voice and my anger. The words fell from my lips cold and brittle like cubes of ice. “It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what you look like.”

His luscious full, pink lips split into a self-conscious grin. “I’ll take the knife out of my heart now.”

I didn’t return his smile and there was an awkward silence as his gaze ran up and down my body, leaving my skin tingling in its wake.

“How did you find me?”
Why did you find me?

“I can be very resourceful when I want to.” He shrugged. “I Googled you. Your name came up on your company’s website.”

Up until recently, my online presence was pretty much zilch. No Facebook, no Twitter, nothing. I had resisted placing a profile and business headshot on the company’s website as well, Big Brother and all that. But eventually corporate had demanded it of all management staff. So up the picture and bio went last month.

“Why did you look me up? Why did you send me a
postcard
after all this time? You made it pretty clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“So you did get it. You just chose not to respond.” He looked pained and shook his head. “You changed your numbers, deleted your email account. You’re a hard woman to track down. It was almost as if you didn’t want to be found.”

“Oh good, you got the hint then?”

His eyes lingered on my lips and I resisted the urge to lick them.

“I’ve missed you.”

I laughed without humor. I read that in a book once,
she laughed without humor
but didn’t quite understand what it meant. Now I did.

He looked surprised. “You haven’t missed me?”

What does he want me to say? Yes, I have missed him. But there is no point in wanting what cannot be.

“No,” I stated as coldly as I could.

“No one writes letters anymore. But I did.” His tone was light, but his eyes serious. “I was forced to put pen to paper and actually write you a letter.” His laugh fell flat and his smile dissolved into nothing. “Several actually. You ignored them all. Like the postcard.”