I shifted my feet on the cold, prickly pavement. “I’m not angry, Matt. I’m sad that you felt like you had to lie. I’m glad you came to Denver, though. I missed you.”
Matt hugged me, squashing my damp body to his chest. He kissed the top of my head.
“Nice bathrobe,” he murmured. “Now get inside before you freeze your cute little ass off, all right? I’m sorry. I love you. We’ll talk soon.”
I faked a smile and kissed Matt’s cheek. I took one look at the blue car. The driver sat inside, her slight silhouette almost invisible.
She was cute—adorable, even—and that bothered me more than Matt’s lie. Very professional, huh? I saw that laugh she shared with Matt before I charged out of the condo.
“I love you, too,” I said. “And I want her gone by tomorrow.”
Chapter 32
MATT
Melanie peeled out of Denver like a race car driver.
“That was some fucked-up shit!” she said above the music.
Fortunately, Mel’s taste in music didn’t bother me. All the same, I didn’t feel like shouting. I turned down the volume and lit a cigarette.
I’d smoked more in the last month, I realized, than I had in all of 2013.
“Alexis Stromgard, huh?”
“Damn straight.” Mel beamed. “Quick on my feet, right?”
“Mm.” I smoked and looked out the window.
“You can thank me whenever the mood strikes you, Mr. Callahan.”
“Thank you? Do you think I’m proud of that performance?” I scowled and turned away from Mel. “Maybe you have a future in fiction writing. You have to be a great liar to write fiction, a real historical revisionist.”
“Hey, buddy, that lie saved your ass.”
“It saved your ass,” I hissed. “I could have fucking told her who you really are. I should have. You’re the bitch who stole my work and published it.”
Mel hit the brakes. I pitched forward and grabbed the dash.
“Get out of my car, you asshole.”
“Drive.” I stared at Mel and she stared at me. A car behind us laid on the horn, then pulled around and sped past.
Mel eased back into the traffic. She glared through the windshield.
“Sure, you could have told her that,” she said, “and I could have told her that you put Night Owl online in the first place—and that you told me to keep selling it.”
I smirked and flicked my cig out the window. I knew Mel was right, and I knew I was using her as a punching bag. I just felt so goddamn guilty.
“But I wouldn’t threaten you with that,” she went on, “because I’m not a douche bag. And if you call me a bitch again, I’m going to shove your three thousand bucks up your ass and kick you out of my car myself, all right?”
I smiled in spite of my unhappiness. Mel sure had a way with words.
“All right,” I said, and that was that.
I didn’t apologize and Mel didn’t try to wring an apology out of me. It was horrible, more than I could make Mel understand, to lie to Hannah and to see someone else lying to Hannah. I promised myself that one day it would stop. One day, only honesty would exist between us. I wouldn’t lie to protect Hannah. I wouldn’t lie to protect myself. Only honesty …
It was dark by the time we reached Estes.
“I’d like to buy you an ice cream cone,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
I dialed down the music again.
“I said I’d like to buy you an ice cream cone.”
“You are … the weirdest person.” Mel laughed.
“Pull over!” I snapped.
Mel jumped and swung into a metered parking spot. The street was desolate, the little tourist town dead in the middle of March. I put on my hat, scarf, and sunglasses. I paid the meter and we walked along the sidewalk.
“It’s winter,” Mel said in a quiet voice.
“Yes, and?” I scowled at the passing shops. Native American gifts, Colorado gifts, a bar, more gift shops, another bar. Half the stores were closed. “It’s nearly spring.”