Tell Them Lies (Three Little Words Book 3) (18 page)

"Hi? I wasn't expecting company," Liz said with a pathetic sounding sniffle. Rachel just walked past her, the smell of said fried goods making Liz's mouth water.

Casey made a more graceful entrance, giving Liz an apologetic smile as she passed. "This is my doing, obviously. I figured an impromptu Ladies Night was warranted, and I didn't think you'd want to come to my place, so I hope this is okay."

There was a moment, just a small one, where Liz wanted to push all of them, Rachel, Casey and the dog out of her house so she could just wallow in her first real heartbreak. But it flew out the window pretty quickly when the thought of basking in the presence of friendship warmed a good part of her.

"Of course it's okay."

"It better be" Rachel said from behind her. "Because I told Tate it was code black girl time. He won't text me unless an ambulance is getting called to our house."

Liz shut the door after Casey made her way in, and she couldn't help but breathe out a laugh at the picture they made. Rachel pulling out containers of what looked like fries, Remy circling multiple times before plopping on the floor in front of one of her chairs, and Casey propping her feet up on the coffee table with a glass of wine.

It was
life
in her house, when only a few minutes ago, she felt so drained of everything. Liz sat in the chair opposite of Casey, accepting the glass that Rachel handed her, taking a sip of the cold, crisp wine before she started talking.

"Did Casey tell you everything?" Liz asked.

Rachel finished chewing and swallowed loudly. "Yup. Apparently you're a dirty liar."

Rolling the glass between her hands, Liz watched the pale liquid swish from side the side. It was so easy to make the whole glass take a different motion, just by moving her fingers a tiny bit. It felt all too indicative of her life choices lately. Rachel cleared her throat, and Liz looked up, surprised to see her grinning.

"And it's about time, honey."

"Wh- what?"

"Come on. I got knocked up before I told you about Tate, and Casey was harboring a wicked crush for Jake long before she ever spilled the beans to us. You've just officially lowered yourself to our standards, Blondie."

Casey laughed and lifted her glass towards Liz in a toast, "it really is about time, Liz."

"Withholding a truth isn't the same as telling a blatant lie, and you both know it, even though I do appreciate you trying to make me feel better."

"Is it working at all?" Rachel asked, eyeing Liz carefully over the rim of her glass.

Setting her wine down on the table next to her, Liz pulled her knees up and tucked them against her chest. Then she dropped her forehead down so that the light in the room was shielded from her eyes. All she could hear was her breathing in that small little space.

Her friends let her stay there for a few minutes, just long enough for her to realize how utterly ridiculous she was being, hiding into herself, while they were there trying to make
her
feel better. Her. The one who'd lied in the first place.

"No," Liz admitted into the muffled space. When she heard Casey let out a long sigh, Liz finally lifted her head just enough to rest her chin on her left knee.

"So what's the issue?" Rachel asked, shrugging her shoulders. "So you screwed up. Big deal. We all have. And if you think that it's somehow going to affect our friendship, then you don't know us very well, or trust us in the slightest."

Liz's eyes fell shut, tears burning her nose. "It's not about that, Rachel. Of course I trust you."

"Then what is it?" Rachel pressed. "Because it
sounds
like you don't trust us."

"Rach," Casey said softly. "Give her a minute."

Another tear dripped down her face, and Liz swiped at it angrily. "It's fine, Casey. I'm perfectly capable of holding up to a full-court press from Rachel."

Rachel pointed a finger at Liz. "There we go. That's what I wanted to see. Better than that mopey shit."

"I'm not being mopey!" Liz said, sitting up and dropping her legs back down to the floor, and even as she said it, her voice wavered. "And it wasn't because I didn't trust you, okay? I couldn't stand feeling pathetic. And
pitied
. It made me want to claw my skin off when people would look at me,
oh poor Liz
. She's single, and everyone around her is moving forward, and she's just
stuck
. In the same job and the same house and still alone. This isn't about you, Rachel. Not everything is." Liz pressed a clenched fist over her heart. "It was about
me.
"

Casey was full-on crying, and even Rachel's eyes looked a little shiny.

"Liz," Rachel started.

"No, I'm not done. Please, let me say this." Rachel nodded and Liz wrapped her arms around her before she continued. "Then this man just came out of nowhere. He was so different, so bold. Who asks a stranger to pretend to be his girlfriend? And he surprised me at every turn. He looks like one thing, you know? Like he'd fit into a mold, because of the tattoos and the personality. But he doesn't. He was sweet and kind, and loves his family, and runs his own business. He made me feel
alive
," she whispered. "And crazy. He definitely made me feel crazy. Crazy enough to keep pretending. And keep lying. And I didn't know whether it was real for him, if he was just one of those guys who could flirt and be that comfortable with any woman. But at his aunt’s house, I saw it. I finally saw how real it was, I felt it.
We
felt it. And the whole thing still felt wrong because of all the lies. So I told his mom."

Rachel winced, just a little, and it made Liz crack a smile. "Yeah, exactly. He wasn't very happy with me. Not that I can really blame him for that. But we both said things we shouldn't have, and I just couldn't stay there anymore. Couldn't keep lying. It was making all the things I felt for him feel... I don't know. Cheaper, I guess. Like any validity I felt in them had been made obsolete. Which made the lies feel even worse."

The room fell silent, even Remy didn't move, and Liz was breathing like she'd just sprinted a football field. When she finally lifted her eyes, both Rachel and Casey looked shocked.

"What?" she said when neither of them said anything.

"Liz, are you in love with Kieran?" Casey asked carefully, after sharing a look with Rachel.

"In
love
with him?"

"Yeah," Rachel stated. "In love. Want to marry. Definitely want to screw. Possibly carry his children. You know, the thing that you believe in above all things. Love."

Liz pulled her eyebrows down, sifting through the last couple weeks. Her heart raced when she thought of a few memories in particular. His face when he saw her at Casey's wedding. The way they danced at the reception. In the guest room at his aunt's. More than one memory there, in fact. And the quiet moments in between all those things. Watching him with his mom, whispering with him in the middle of the night, listening to him sing in the car.

"I think that I could have been," she replied quietly. "But no, I'm not
in
love with him. There was too much we didn't say to each other, what we were to each other wasn't even remotely clear until last night. And I think knowing that held me back a little, from fully letting myself fall for him."

"Mmmmhmmm. Didn't stop you from falling into
something
with him," Rachel said, eyebrows high on her forehead, eyes comically wide.

"You
told
her, Casey?"

"Umm, yes. You slept with the hot tattooed man. Of course I told her."

Liz covered her flushed cheeks with her hands while Casey and Rachel giggled like little girls.

"See? We're all
horrible
people, Liz," Rachel said when she'd stopped laughing. "We do stupid stuff from time to time. You told a little lie. Big deal. I mean, let's not get in the habit of deceiving each other, but it's not like we don't understand why you did it. And you aren't really friends with someone until you've managed to make it past pissing each other off occasionally."

"So basically, you've cemented our friendship for the next hundred years, huh Rach?" Casey mused, tapping a finger against her chin.

Liz laughed, and it eased the rest of the thick, iron band that had been wrapped around her chest for the last couple months. Rachel slowly rotated her right hand like she was turning a crank, lifting the middle finger on her left until it was pointed right at Casey. Casey just grinned and blew her a kiss.

Remy got up and padded over to Liz's chair, resting his giant furry head in her lap. Smiling, she stroked the top of his long, dark muzzle.

"Well, now that we're past the big bad, what are you going to do about Kieran?" Rachel asked after she'd taken a large drink of her wine.

"I'm not sure. He may want nothing to do with me after I told Maggie the truth."

"Give him a little time," Casey said with an encouraging smile. "He felt something for you. Anybody could see it."

"True dat, because at the reception? Yowza. That was caliente seeing you two together."

Liz smiled. "Caliente or not, he was still mad. And he said some pretty hurtful things, too. I wouldn't mind a little space myself. Just until I know what I want to do, if anything."

"Nothing wrong with that," Casey stated. Rachel topped off her glass and lifted it in agreement.

"Actually, I think I may call my mom. See if I can go visit them for a week or so. I've got a lot of PTO to use and I haven't been down there since they went."

Rachel leaned forward, pouring some wine in Liz's practically untouched glass until it was almost sloshing over the brim. "Well, then let's drink to visiting the old folks in Arizona, and to the men who force us to go there."

L
iz was pulling
the zipper shut on her bright red suitcase, once again filtering through a packing list. Only the last time she'd done the same thing was when the choice of sleepwear was the hardest choice. Visiting her parents didn't quite hold the same mystery.

Cotton shirts and boxers it was.

And while that had only been fourteen days ago, sometimes it seemed like months had passed. Other days, it felt like hours. But then she'd check her phone, and the screen always remained dark. Consistently, tauntingly dark.

From Kieran, at least. Casey and Rachel were definitely checking in on her more often. She'd spoken to her mom a few times in the last couple weeks, listening with an amused smile at all the plans that were being made in anticipation of her visit. But from him? Nothing.

Liz had started so many messages. Had pulled up his phone number more than once to call. But at the last minute, she always closed out, always deleted every single letter that she'd typed out. The hardest one to get rid of had been the last one.

I miss you. And what scares me the most is that you might not miss me.

But delete it she had, watching each individual letter disappear from the screen, her heart aching with every single one. All it did was serve to remind her that a break would be good, a change in scenery more than necessary at that point. Because she missed more than the stolen kisses and the long night of sweat-covered skin and tangled limbs. She missed him.

Just spending time with him. And that had been three solid days ago. Since then she'd started, sort of, the process of accepting that he may just have been a short burst of electricity in her life. Something that couldn't possibly be sustained over long periods of time.

"Liz, you ready?" Casey called from the kitchen. She'd left work early to bring Liz to the airport.

Dragging her suitcase behind her, Liz pasted a smile on her face. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"And you sure you don't want me to pick you up when you come back?"

"No, it's so late. I'll just take a cab back home."

Casey looked unconvinced. "Okay. I hate the idea of one of us not coming to get you, but if you're sure."

She was not sure. Not in the slightest. But even the small reiteration of Casey wanting to come and get her made Liz feel a little better. Any guilt she'd had about the whole deception with Kieran had all but disappeared with her friends.

On the drive to the airport, they chatted amiably, Casey mostly talking with large hand motions about a discussion she and Jake had about a potential house they were going to buy.

"And then he said, well I don't really see the point of having a walk-in closet. I mean, has he
met me
?"

Liz laughed as Casey swung her car next to the curb of the airport, the swooping blue glass overhang blocking the bright sun above them. After Casey gripped her in a tight hug, Liz turned to head inside feeling lighter than she had in weeks. More herself, just... just with a chunk missing.

Like that little flame Kieran had kindled and nurtured and coaxed into a living flame had just been reduced to embers. Just enough that she could feel it glowing in a small part of her, but not enough to keep her warm.

The plane ride to Phoenix felt short, as Liz immersed herself in a new book, losing herself in the wonderfully romantic story of a proper lady and the gypsy boy who'd loved her from afar for years. The jolt of the wheels hitting the tarmac jarring her from the page she'd been devouring. Just those few hours of thinking only of the story she was reading felt like a wonderfully overdue reprieve from her own thoughts. From the melancholy that she couldn't shake from her soul.

Exiting the small airport that sat right smack dab in between developments in Mesa, Arizona, the dry heat hit Liz like she'd walked straight into a brick wall. She peeled off the button down shirt she'd thrown over a pink tank top and basked in the heat. Squinting into the glaring sun, Liz scanned the parking lot for her parent's car and didn't see it at first. But after two cars moved past, she saw the maroon Cadillac idling further down.

She waved, and when her father's bald head caught the light, Liz smiled. He slowly pulled towards her, and touched the horn in greeting. He didn't exit the car, which was typical, since his hips had started bothering him the last few years.

"Hey, Sunshine," he said, turning in his seat to give her a quick hug and plant a kiss on her forehead. "How was the flight?"

"Fine. I read the whole time, so it went pretty quickly."

He grinned and pulled the car away from the curb.

"Mom napping?"

He nodded. "Every day at two. I'm afraid we're getting predictable in our old age."

They smiled at each other and then lapsed into companionable silence. Their relationship had never been one of long talks, but if she'd ever had a hard day at school, one of the things she'd craved most was just sitting with her dad, soaking in his quiet presence. It was oddly comforting, that he'd never tried to give her false platitudes or cheery pep talks. Like he knew that she'd eventually be able to sift through whatever it was that weighed on her.

Forty minutes later, they pulled into the condo that her parents owned. Her mom stood from where she'd been sitting on the front porch, and Liz let out a laugh at the horrible tropical dress that she was wearing, the large, fluorescent yellow flowers printed on the white fabric not doing much in the way of flattering her shape.

"Umm, Dad?"

He sighed, a long, drawn out sound that made Liz laugh even harder. "I don't know, Sunshine. I don't know. But she wears them just about every day now."

While her dad fetched her suitcase from the trunk of the car, Liz found herself wrapped firmly and immediately in her mother's arm. The soft, familiar scent of baby powder pricked tears in Liz's eyes, and she held her mother back just as tightly.

"You okay, honey?"

"Yeah, Mom. I just really missed you guys."

Her mom pulled back, cupping the side of Liz's face. "Well, we missed you too. I've got your room all made up for you if you feel like taking a nap or anything."

Filling her lungs with the hot, dry air, Liz just shook her head. "No, I don't need a nap."

With a small tilt of her head, her mom's powder blue eyes studied Liz. "Okay. How about some iced coffee in the sunroom? Do a little catching up before we decide what to do for dinner."

"That sounds pretty perfect, Mom."

E
ven though she
was only going to be there for six days, Liz fully unpacked her suitcase, folding all of her tank tops and skirts into the small white dresser in 'her' room. When she pushed the drawer shut, Liz looked up and caught her reflection in the framed mirror on the wall above the dresser. Flying across a dozen or so states seemed to benefiting her already, the pale appearance that seemed the cover her like a thick blanket already cast aside from an hour sitting in the desert heat.

She and her mom had gotten caught up on the mundane things; what activities kept her parents busy throughout the week, showing pictures from Facebook of Rachel's son, Asher, and a few pictures of Casey's wedding, since they'd decided not to fly back for it. But Liz held back her story.

Maybe in a couple days she'd feel ready to talk about Kieran, talk about Maggie, and what they'd come to mean to her in such a short time. And maybe in a couple days, she'd be able to explain that she and Kieran were no longer speaking without wanting to burst into tears.

But soon enough Saturday bled into Sunday, and Sunday turned in Monday, and Monday all too quickly became Tuesday. Every single hour passing without a single word about Kieran. They went out to eat a few times to all the restaurants that Liz liked to go to when she was visiting, they played hours of card games, and just spent time being together. It seemed inexcusable to pull that sort of dark cloud over their time together. It's what Liz told herself every single time the thought crossed her mind that she should admit everything to her mom.

And every single time, she fully managed to grasp onto her hesitancy with white-knuckled hands.

But I still think that's better than being a coward.

All Liz had to do was close her eyes and she could perfectly conjure Kieran throwing those words at her, like they weren't her greatest fear. Even so many days later, sitting at a table across from her mother across the country, it felt like he was leaning over her shoulder and whispering those words into her ear.

...better than being a coward.

Her heart thudded dully in her chest and it made it seem like her pulse was everywhere over her body, if she looked down at her skin, it would probably be vibrating. She didn't want to be this person, afraid to open her mouth for fear of what her own parent would think of her. It was the same reason that she'd been terrified to admit everything to her best friends.

Liz was afraid. Of hurting. Of failing. Of disappointing.

And she
hated
it. Almost hated herself for ever letting herself slowly sink down, tiny step by tiny step, into this hole that seemed so impossible to crawl out of.

"Honey? It's your move." Her mom smiled pleasantly across the table from her, then pulled her brows down. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, quite unlike her racing thoughts, Liz laid down her hand of cards and took a short sip of her water. "Mom? Do you consider yourself a, well, a
careful
person? Cautious?"

Those were vastly more optimistic than coward. Surprise was evident in the pop of her mom's eyebrows, and the way she sank back in her chair, cards forgotten.

"Careful, hmm," she repeated absently, eyes narrowed in thought. "I suppose you could say that I am. Your father, too. We were raised in such a different generation, even than the one of your friend's parents." Liz nodded. Her parents had been nearing forty when they'd had her, after trying for years with no success of conceiving. "Both sets of your grandparents remembered what the Depression was like, and that put a major mark on how we were raised. Then all the years that we had at the beginning of our marriage." She shook her head, face lost in thought. "We were poor after we got married. Absolutely dirt poor. There wasn't even the option to be reckless. With anything. In fact, I still remember the first restaurant we went to after your father got his job. It wasn't even that nice, looking back on it now. But we felt giddy. Almost decadent. But after we got home, I sat down to write down what we'd spent on dinner in my little accounting book. And honey, I about puked it felt like so much money. We actually waited months before going out to eat again, besides McDonald's. We both just felt better having a little bit more of a cushion in our checking account."

Liz had leaned forward while her mom spoke, her whole upper body was over the table now. "I've never heard that story."

Her mom shrugged, visible pulling herself from the memory. "It was so many years before we had you. That type of life was very much in the past for us. We were smart with our money,
careful
." They both smiled. "And then we were so regimented in trying to have a baby. We had to be. Back then, you didn't have all the science about infertility that we do now. You could adopt. Or you could keep trying, never really knowing why it wasn't happening."

She stopped, letting out a deep sigh. Liz reached her hand across the table, palm facing up, and her mom smiled and patted it, not taking hold.

"And you had two miscarriages, right?" Liz asked quietly.

Her mom nodded once, eyes glossy in the low light of the dining room. "Four years apart. One right when we started trying. Then the second one was almost two years before I got pregnant with you. It still hurts, after all these years. And back then, whew, you
definitely
didn't talk about it. But those two," she paused, clearing her throat and visibly shoring herself up, "they were hard enough that my first reaction when I knew I was pregnant with you wasn't elation. It was fear. Because I just didn't think I could go through losing another baby. And so naturally, I was a very
careful
pregnant woman."

This time they didn't smile. And past the way her nose burned with unshed tears for those two little babies, who could have been her siblings, Liz felt an equal swelling of emotion when she realized that after almost thirty years, this was the most poignant conversation she'd ever had with her mother. The first time they'd ever really talked about this, and it filled Liz with such a bone-deep sense of shame that a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Mom."

She just waved a hand. "Honey, it was never
easy
for me to talk about it. And I didn’t want you to feel bad."

"I know, but still..." she trailed off, feeling acutely guilty for making her mom relive all of this, even though it felt good to be able to unburden to each other. Or at least she would when Liz finally got around to the unburdening.

"And I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad now, but it all plays a part. And yes, we've been cautious, careful parents with you. Truthfully, I might have homeschooled you, just to keep you in my sight, but your father put his foot down. And I'm glad he did. Because you needed to be able to socialize, make some friends, since you only had us at home."

"Well, I'm glad you ended up agreeing with him. I might not know Casey and Rachel otherwise."

Her mom's face spread into an easy smile. "When you first brought those two home, oh, was it seventh grade?" Liz nodded, knowing where the story was going. "It felt like a hurricane had been let loose in our house. All the giggling and the music and the talking. But it was so wonderful seeing you with them. The sisters that I couldn't give you."

"Mom--"

"No, I don't mean that to be as depressing as it sounded. I'm happy you have them."

"Me too. They've been wonderful, the last couple weeks especially."

Liz's mom raised an eyebrow in question, and Liz took a couple deep breaths, smoothing her hands across the surface of the table.