“A man who really needs more one-on-one with his girl.”
Ache seeps in further as I start to dread the upcoming weekend without him. “Any idea when that will be?”
“Working on that now. I kind of hate that we added more dates to the tour.”
“We talked about this. I’m nothing but happy for you. To be honest, I expected it.”
“But it means we have to keep this charade going on longer.”
“It’s not a charade,” I defend sharply, a little too sharply.
“No, it’s not,” he exhales audibly. “That was a poor choice of words.”
“Well, if you’re in need of words, I’m your girl.” I muse. “So, is your dad still with you?”
“Yeah, but after the Salt Lake show, we’re off the rest of the weekend. Maybe after the show, I’ll come to you?”
“You would do that?”
“Seriously? Right now, I would fly into the fucking sun to get back to where we were last weekend. I felt sick when I had to leave you in that chalet.”
“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, what you’re really saying is that you’re completely and utterly whipped?”
“You don’t want to start this spar, Beauty,” he warns. “You’ll lose.”
“Have I won a single argument with you yet?”
His chuckle rumbles over the line. “No, but you keep starting them. You’re such a little asshole.”
“Well, I am a ginger,” I boast. “Rumor is, I have no soul.”
“Only because I stole it.”
“That may be true,” I sigh, allowing him to hear the smitten in my voice because that’s what this is—smitten, and every accompanying synonym—taken, enamored, infatuated. Though it’s been a struggle to keep us under wraps since Dallas, when doubts threaten to take over, all I have to do is replay the beautiful words he spoke to me to convince me to bet on him, to believe in us. In the two months we’ve officially been a couple, he’s delivered on every promise, mainly in the way of giving more pieces of himself to me without reservation. In return, I’ve done the same. He’s made and kept me a priority without putting me through my paces or questioning his intentions. His only motive seems to be to keep us together and me happy. In short, he’s perfect.
Every day, I find myself fighting to withhold the words I so desperately want to admit. The struggle to hold them in becoming unbearable, as is my need to tell the people in my everyday life that I’m in love with the most incredible man I’ve ever met—my dad excluded.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For stealing your soul?”
“No, for…making it…like this.”
“Like what?”
“Easy,” I say, “and…happy.”
“You sure you’re a words girl?”
“Shut up, dick,” I laugh at his predictable jab.
“Ah, back to the subject currently in my hand,” he coos.
“Forget toddler. You’re an infant,” I giggle before looking up to see my father filling my office doorway.
My heart skips several beats as he stares back at me with a quizzical expression, hands stuffed in his slacks just before mouthing, “Who is that?”
I roll my eyes in an attempt to play off the surge of panic racing through me.
“Dad just walked into my office,” I report to Easton, praying I managed to keep the shake out of my voice.
Dead silence greets me on the other side of the line before Easton whispers a faint, “I’m sorry,” and hangs up.
“Sounds good.” Line already dead in my hand, I hang up just as Dad steps forward to eye the caller ID on my console.
“Who’s making things easy…happy and is a dick, toddler, and infant?”
“I think the better question is, why are you at my office door spying on my phone conversations?”
A dozen lies form, scatter, and retreat on my tongue as his brows draw in confusion as to why I didn’t simply answer him. Because normally I would, and without hesitation.
This is how it starts, Natalie. Kill it now.
“Who else would it be? Holly. She was on a call with me during a consult for a lady stuff appointment and cracked an inappropriate joke.” Lady stuff is code in our family for anything having to do with my vagina and menstrual cycle—a subject my father will happily sidestep at all costs. I shake my head. “Never mind, what’s up?”
Dad grimaces, a reply ready on his lips as Elena buzzes in again. “Natalie, line one, Holly.”
Thank you, merciful God, for this circumstantial miracle. I’ll do better.
I snatch up the phone like the lifeline it is. “You are an infant,” I recite the same way as I did to Easton a minute earlier in hopes of making my lie more believable.
“Well, that’s no way to greet your best bitch,” Holly claps back as I keep my eyes trained on my dad. Thinking on my toes and in an attempt to thoroughly cover my tracks, I put her on speaker. “Say hi to Dad. He’s lingering at my office door because he’s all up in my business this morning.”
“Hey, Uncle Nate,” Holly bellows out. Though they aren’t blood related, Dad watched Holly grow up alongside me, and they’re as thick as thieves, hence his honorary title. Easton’s warnings in Dallas ring as clear as a bell as this situation becomes increasingly similar to the scenario he described and far too close for comfort.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad greets her fondly, “Addie and I have been missing you. Come by the house soon for dinner.”
“I will. If your daughter wasn’t so damned b—”
“Shut it,” I interject playfully, taking her off speaker before she can incriminate me. Certain a heart attack is in the works, perspiration glides down my back as a full-on panic attack threatens, and I do my best to mask it.
“Call Addie and set it up,” Dad belts out for Holly to hear despite my attempt to separate them, his grin growing at my obvious agitation. “I’ll tell her to expect your call today.”
“Dad!” I draw out, my blood pressure spiking to an unsustainable level. Dad knocks on my doorframe, satisfied he’s thoroughly ruffled my feathers. “I’ll let you two get back to your talk about lady stuff.”
Holly catches his parting words and squawks in my ear. “What lady stuff?”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I call after his retreating back, testing the waters.
Dad turns back to me, his expression a mix of amusement and adoration. “And you’re the light of my life.” He retreats then, walking through the pit towards his office as a tidal wave of guilt washes over me.
Jesus Christ.
Heart pounding, back soaking wet, I shift my focus on Holly while mentally replaying the last few seconds of lies as she prompts me for a reply.
“Natalie, what lady stuff?”
“Oh, I made that appointment with your waxing lady.” Truth.
“So, that makes me an infant?”
“I said, bare as an infant.”
Oh. My. God.
I’m met with what can only be described as a horrified silence before banging my earpiece against my forehead. “Can you hear me?” I ask, “My desk phone has been acting up this morning. What’s up?”
“I hope like hell I misheard you. Why are you being weird about a lady wax and honestly…fucking disturbing?”
“It’s been the longest first hour of a workday in the history of ever, Holly. I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee, and Dad’s already driving me crazy.”
Lie.
My secrets are driving me crazy.
Being in a secret relationship with my father’s ex-fiancée’s son is driving me crazy.
Being in love with a man I haven’t admitted it to is driving me crazy.
Reporting every exciting aspect of my new relationship to my horse is driving me bat shit.
The fact that I’m lying to everyone close to me—and doing it so horribly—is making things much, much worse.
“I’m j-just frazzled…and busy. Can l call you back?”
“What the hell? Can I not get five minutes? You canceled Chuy’s on us. You never miss Chuy’s, and that’s why we chose the damn restaurant because you were guaranteed to show. Even Damon is starting to feel jilted by you. He thinks we’re being replaced.”
“He said that?”
“Yeah, he did, right before he picked up our waitress,” she utters dryly.
“The one with the beauty mark?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well, she’s ugly.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” she sighs.