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Chapter no 6

First Lie Wins

Ryan leans against the open door of the small workroom in the basement of the gallery. Lunch ended less than two hours ago, so Iโ€™m impressed with how fast word got to him.

โ€œI heard lunch was awesome,โ€ he says with a grin I recognize but a look in his eyes I donโ€™t. Heโ€™s dressed casually today, wearing jeans that heโ€™s probably had since college and an untucked button-down that I know is soft to the touch. Itโ€™s a good look on him, making him seem carefree and younger than he is.

I didnโ€™t ask why there was no suit, no tie, no perfectly styled hair this morning while we were getting dressed, and he didnโ€™t offer.

โ€œSo much awesome,โ€ I answer back, matching his smile.

Iโ€™ve got seventy-five place cards scattered on the table in front of me, all needing to be color coded to match the lunch choice selected by the attendees of tomorrowโ€™s luncheon. He drops down in the chair next to me, his foot sliding against mine while he picks up two of the closest place cards.

โ€œThese two need to be as far apart from each other as you can get them.โ€

I glance at the names written there. I was already informed that it may be a problem for them to be at the same table but decided to do it anyway. I mean, any luncheon where the topic is โ€œIntroduction to Art Collecting 101โ€ could stand a little extra excitement.

โ€œDuly noted,โ€ I answer.

He drops the cards back on the table and says, โ€œIโ€™m surprised you didnโ€™t call after.โ€ I swivel in my chair so Iโ€™m facing him. โ€œIt wasnโ€™t anything I couldnโ€™t handle.โ€

โ€œBut you shouldnโ€™t have to handle that.โ€ His hand reaches for mine, then heโ€™s pulling me into his lap. I glance at the open door, hoping no one catches us like this. Iโ€™ve only had this job a couple of weeks, and everyone knows I only got it as a favor to Ryan and nothing more.

โ€œThis isnโ€™t helping my credibility here,โ€ I say, even as I snuggle in closer to him.

Ryan wraps an arm around me, anchoring me to him. His finger traces the top edge of my thin tee. โ€œThis is killing me right now, just so you know.โ€

I lean into his hand, and he glances at the empty hallway to make sure weโ€™re still alone down here, but before he gets any ideas of being naughty at work, I say, โ€œI know youโ€™re too busy to come running down here to check on me.โ€ I link my fingers with his to stop his exploration. โ€œWhich one called you?โ€

My moneyโ€™s on Sara.

โ€œSara. Sheโ€™s worried you hate them now.โ€ He lets out a quiet laugh, then his expression changes. Gets serious. โ€œWant to talk about it?โ€ he asks.

I shake my head. โ€œNo. Iโ€™m not worried about what they think.โ€ I twist around so I can look at him. โ€œBut I am worried about what you think.โ€

Ryan runs a hand through my hair, wrapping the ends around his fist. Holding my face inches from his. โ€œI think youโ€™re wonderful.โ€

โ€œWell, I think youโ€™re pretty wonderful too.โ€ And for the first time, these words arenโ€™t spoken only to further my cause. For the first time, I mean what Iโ€™m saying.

In moments like this I wish things were different. That this was real life and that my biggest concern was the petty drama between me and his childhood friends. When I wish I was the girl who got a flat tire and he was the guy who just happened to be there to help me. That there was a real future ahead of us.

Thereโ€™s so much he doesnโ€™t know. So much I canโ€™t tell him. And so much I never will.

Ryan takes in the mess on the table next to us. โ€œI guess thereโ€™s no way for you to cut out early.โ€

โ€œNo. I have to finish these for tomorrow and then make sure all the tables have linens before I leave.โ€ I pry myself off his lap and scoot back into my chair.

He leans forward, as if he wonโ€™t allow too much space between us. โ€œCome work for me. Then we can take off early as often as we wanted.โ€

Ryan has offered this before, but itโ€™s the first time it sounds like he really means it.

I get busy stacking the place cards into groups. โ€œWorking together would be too big a distraction. For both of us,โ€ I say with a quiet laugh, my eyes deliberately on the task in front of me.

His foot tangles with mine. โ€œYouโ€™re right. Iโ€™d never get anything done. Iโ€™d follow you around all day, neglecting everything else,โ€ he says.

The muffled sound of his phone vibrating has him checking his watch to see whoโ€™s calling. Ryan groans as he stands up from his chair and digs his device out of his back pocket. โ€œGive me a second,โ€ he says as he steps into the hall to answer the call.

Itโ€™s quiet enough down here that I donโ€™t have to try too hard to listen in on his end of the conversation. โ€œConfirmation?โ€ he asks. A moment later, he says, โ€œOne day should be plenty. Send estimated cost

and set up arrival for eleven a.m. this Thursday.โ€ Thursday.

โ€œAnything else come up?โ€ he asks. His shoulders stiffen while he listens to whoever is on the other line. Iโ€™m prepared for the glance Ryan gives me over his shoulder and all he sees is my attention firmly on the seating chart in front of me. Then he takes one step farther away from me. The pitch of his voice drops lower. I canโ€™t make out the words, but heโ€™s clearly unhappy and letting it be known. Heโ€™s all but growling into the phone. This is not a side of him I have seen before.

โ€œFind it,โ€ he says loudly, before ending the call. And now I want to know what he lost.

โ€œAll good?โ€ I ask as he pockets his phone and makes his way back to me.

He shakes it off and even gives me that grin that shows his dimple. โ€œYeah, just a little problem at work.โ€ He drops back down in the chair next to me.

I swivel my chair to face his. โ€œI guess if I worked for you, I could help sort through those problems.โ€ The work problem heโ€™s dealing with is not one Iโ€™d be aware of if I took the job he was offering me.

Heโ€™s tense but still manages to lean closer, sliding his hand into mine. โ€œBut you turned me down, so I guess Iโ€™m on my own.โ€

Weโ€™re both dancing around things we canโ€™t say.

These feelings for him are leading me down a path I cannot take, so this little reminder of all heโ€™s hiding from me and all Iโ€™m hiding from him is welcome.

โ€œWhen do you think youโ€™ll be done here?โ€ he whispers, before kissing me gently on the lips. I pull back just enough to answer him. โ€œMaybe an hour? What time are you off the clock?โ€

โ€œAbout the same.โ€ Ryan gives me one last kiss then gets up. Heโ€™s almost to the door when he adds, โ€œYou know you can tell me anything, right?โ€

I nod and fidget in my seat. โ€œI know.โ€

He stares at me for a few seconds, long enough that an irrational part of me thinks he can see past this glossy outer layer Iโ€™ve created. Then he adds, โ€œEven when my friends act like assholes.โ€

Smiling, I say, โ€œEven then. Donโ€™t worry, I donโ€™t scare easy. Iโ€™ll see you at home soon.โ€ Another glance at his phone, then his eyes are back on me. โ€œI like the sound of that.โ€

I watch until he disappears down the hall and around the corner.

 

 

 

The place cards are done. Mrs. Roberts and Mrs. Sullivan will be staring at each other across table 1 while Iโ€™m sure everyone else will be staring at them. All of my other to-do items have been checked off, but before I clock out for the day, thereโ€™s a call I need to make.

She answers on the second ring.

โ€œHey, Rachel,โ€ I say. โ€œItโ€™s Evie. Do you have a minute?โ€ Silence. And then, โ€œSure, what do you need?โ€

I lean back in my chair and glance down the hall to make sure no one is around. โ€œWe got off on the wrong foot and I hate it.โ€ I let that hang a few seconds then add, โ€œIโ€™d love it if we could try again.โ€

Sheโ€™s quiet, and then I hear a soft laugh. โ€œI have to admit, after all the calls Iโ€™ve gotten about our lunch today, this is one I wasnโ€™t expecting.โ€

Ryan must have called her, but she wasnโ€™t surprised he did. And now Iโ€™m curious what he said to her.

โ€œIโ€™m as much to blame with how things went down,โ€ I say. โ€œItโ€™s really hard for me to talk about my past.โ€

โ€œNo, I shouldnโ€™t have pushed so hard. It was veryย insensitive.โ€ She says โ€œinsensitiveโ€ as if that was the main criticism lodged against her in her earlier conversations.

โ€œTruce?โ€ I ask.

โ€œSure, truce,โ€ she answers, her words clipped.

I let out a relieved sigh that I make sure she can hear. โ€œGreat! Well, I guess weโ€™ll see you Saturday at the Derby party.โ€

โ€œCanโ€™t wait,โ€ Rachel says, then ends the call. I smile when I drop the phone in my bag.

Rachel is probably leaning back in her chair, our conversation replaying in her head while staring out the window of her small office, three doors down from the coveted corner one Iโ€™m sure she eyed the first day she walked the halls of the most prestigious law firm in townโ€”the office reserved for partners. Itโ€™s the same firm where on breaks from law school she interned during the week and screwed a junior partner on the weekends. The same law firm that handles anything Ryan needs.

Sheโ€™s picking apart my story, looking for the truth behind my words. And from my research, sheโ€™s good at what she does. Something isnโ€™t sitting right with her, and sheโ€™s trying to decide if digging into my background is worth the possibility of losing Ryanโ€™s friendship.

Rachel is one Iโ€™ll need to watch a little closer.

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