Authors: Rachel Everleigh
Believing Lies
Copyright © 2014
This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book. The scanning, uploading and distribution of the book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal. Exception in the case of brief quotations embodied in a critical article or review.
Disclaimer:
This is a New Adult novel and is not intended for minors. The author does not condone or endorse any behavior enclosed within. Please note this novel contains sexual situations, profanity, and alcohol consumption.
A novel by Rachel Everleigh
Edited By Taylor Thomas
Page building/formatting by BookBaby
ISBN: 9781483536279
Table of Contents
Dedication
To Mataya
My amazing little sister and friend
.
I love you very much
.
Chapter One
If I looked at one more seating arrangement, I was going to rip my hair out and repeatedly bang my head on my dining room table. Wedding planning was proving to be a royal pain in my ass. After two excruciating hours of looking at various seating configurations and table arrangements, it felt as if my brain was being slowly squeezed in a vise. My mother actually expected me to give a shit about every miniscule detail. I hadn’t realized that the moment I became engaged, she would swoop in like a vulture to take over every aspect of the wedding. I shouldn’t have been surprised either. My mother never did anything halfway, and this was clearly no exception.
It was a beautiful day outside, and I wanted to go enjoy it. I loved Wisconsin in the summer. I’d much rather be walking around downtown Madison right now, stopping in little shops and making my way to Monona Terrace to look at the lake. Instead, I was stuck listening to my mother and my wedding planner, Monica, drone on and on.
Blah, blah, blah
.
“Sienna, did you hear anything I just said to you?” my mother asked, sharply.
“I’m sorry. What was the question again?” I hoped my tone would soothe rather than agitate her, but the look on her face said I was unsuccessful.
Obviously annoyed with me, she repeated herself, “What do you think of the tables? I think we should get oval tables instead of round tables.”
“Oval tables sound lovely,” I answered with forced sincerity. Honestly, I didn’t know why they continued to ask for my input; whatever I said didn’t really matter. We all knew that if I had replied, “Who gives a crap about table shapes?” that I would never hear the end of it, and I’d end up with oval tables regardless. I learned a long time ago to just be polite and go with the flow whenever my mother was around. Why fight against the current?
I suppressed a sigh and did my best to hide how close I was to snapping.
Calm down, Sienna. Sophie will be here soon
. Sophie was not only my cousin, but also my best friend. We were only one month apart in age, and at twenty-two years old, I couldn’t remember a time in my life that hadn’t included her. Plus, she was the only person who could slice through my mother’s bullshit like a master swordsman, which was exactly why I could really use her help right about now.
“I don’t think you’re paying attention,” my mother hissed. “Let me show you the pictures of the tables again.” She snapped her fingers at Monica, and said, “Would you be a dear and hand those to Sienna?”
Please, God, please, just shut up already!
I started to rub my temples counterclockwise, attempting to fight off the migraine that I felt coming on with a vengeance. I needed to get them out of here before my head exploded. I could see the headlines now:
YOUNG BRIDE TRAGICALLY DIES DURING FREAK HEAD EXPLOSION. POLICE SUSPECT CRAZY, OVERBEARING MOTHER AT FAULT.
As this image entered my mind, a small giggle escaped my lips. My mother abruptly slammed her hand on the table. She looked like a tiger ready to strike. Did her eye really just twitch?
Yikes!
“Is there something you find amusing, Sienna?” I shook my head. “Good. These are very serious decisions, and I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t care. I need you to focus. This wedding will be a reflection of our family, and you know what that means to me. We have an image to uphold. Please stop acting like this is an unwanted chore.” Her stern expression softened, and she reached to take my hand in hers. With a rare, genuine smile, she said, “This really will be the happiest day of your entire life.”
I was briefly speechless. When she put it like that, I felt a little guilty. “You’re right, Mother. This will be the happiest day of my life,” I said sincerely, then added for good measure, “I’m sorry.”
It seemed surreal that in a few short months I would be Mrs. Trenton Wallace. I had even practiced writing my new name. It was as if I had reverted back to a thirteen-year-old who doodled her boyfriend’s name in her notebook. At least I hadn’t added little hearts . . . Okay, maybe once or twice.
Trenton hadn’t even known I existed until last year. That didn’t mean that I hadn’t known who he was. About two years ago, his family joined the same country club that my parents were members of. The first time I saw him, he was getting out of the pool, and I literally drooled. Who could blame me though? Trenton was Hot with a capital H. He had short, dark-blond hair, hazel eyes, and all of his six-foot-two-inch body was chiseled. I could bounce a quarter off of his abs, for God’s sake. Unfortunately, my little drool sessions had been few and far between. I hated the country club, and only went there when my parents demanded that I join them. It had been several months before I saw him there again. And when I did, I’d been too intimidated by his good looks to introduce myself.
When we officially met, it wasn’t at the club. What I hadn’t known at the time was that we both went to University of Wisconsin-Madison. I’d been on my way to the campus library when I literally collided with him. My first words ever spoken to him were, “Oh my God, I’m such a fucking klutz!” . . . Yep, I’d dropped the F-bomb after almost knocking him over. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. But then the most astonishing thing happened—He asked me out.
On our first date, he took me to a nice restaurant downtown. We talked about the basics: likes and dislikes, school, and family. He’d been surprised to learn that our parents knew each other and had thought it was a shame that I hadn’t introduced myself earlier. After a few dates, I found that beyond his looks, he was extremely charming, intelligent, and funny. It had taken no time at all for him to ingrain himself deep into my heart.
Trenton was a year older than I was, and he graduated last year. I thank my lucky stars that I’d been on my way to the library that day. Otherwise, I would probably still be admiring him from afar. Yes, we’d been going to the same school at the time we met, but we’d had no classes together, and the campus was large and spread out. Our circles of friends were very different, so the chance of us meeting socially had been slim. Trenton had been the head of his fraternity, whereas you couldn’t pay me to be in a sorority. I had nothing against them, but it certainly wasn’t my thing. I wasn’t the girl who had tons of friends. I preferred to have a small handful of amazing friends instead. The kind of friends who would bail you out of jail or help you bury a body . . . or wind up in jail with you because they just helped you bury a body.
The intercom buzzed.
Thank God. Sophie’s finally here
. I left my mother and Monica at the table and rushed to let her in the building. I chose to stand outside my door and wait in the hallway for her. I didn’t have to wait long before I saw her walking to me, juggling a Starbucks cup, her purse, and multiple shopping bags—most of which appeared to be from Victoria’s Secret. If shopping were an Olympic sport, Sophie would win the Gold every time. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed shopping just as much as the next girl, but she took the saying “shop ’til you drop” to a whole new level.
A smile lit up my face. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, before leaning in and whispering, “Get them out of my apartment, please.” She gave me a knowing smirk and a nod.
Sophie sauntered into the dining room with her best fake smile plastered on her face. She sat down next to Monica. I saw my mother give Monica an unimpressed look regarding Sophie before masking it with her usual caustic demeanor. Based on the small wrinkles that briefly showed on Sophie’s brow, she noticed my mother’s less-than-enthusiastic response to her arrival.
Sophie had always tried to pretend that the cold shoulder my mother gave her didn’t affect her. She claimed she actually found it amusing, and part of me believed that. She got a sick enjoyment in ruffling my mother’s feathers, but I still thought it must be hard to have your own aunt constantly treat you like something on the bottom of her shoe.
“Sophie dear, how pleasant to see you,” my mother said, using a seemingly concerned voice. However, the condescending undertone was more than evident. “We still have a few more things to go over with Sienna about the wedding, so why don’t you go and relax on the sofa while we finish up. After all, you must be extremely worn-out from your shopping.”
With an overtly saccharine voice, Sophie replied, “How thoughtful of you to think of my comfort, Aunt Clarice. And to think that some people call you uncaring. How crazy is that? Although your consideration is appreciated, I wouldn’t dream of missing out on all of the fun. I hope we’re looking at something
super
interesting.” She glanced at one of the open binders on the table. “Oh, wow! Napkins.” With a dramatic eye roll, which she didn’t even try to hide, she continued. “I think my expertise is definitely needed. Otherwise you might end up with something like neon pink napkins shaped like flamingos instead of off-white napkins shaped like swans.”