“You always were a crap liar.”
And just like that, the brave face I have managed to put on for several very long years starts to fall away. “It’s all such a mess.” My words come out as a whisper, not wanting to really acknowledge how much of a disaster everything is, but knowing I have to get it all out in the open. I wouldn’t tell my mom without it hurting her too much to know what I’ve been through, but I know Lottie is strong enough to handle it.
Her hand gently covers mine, and my throat aches with all the things I want to say, but I don’t know where to begin.
“Start from the beginning, babe. I have all day…”
So I tell her everything, from the day I fled Boulder City to this moment here and now. The elephant that has been sitting on my chest is lifted, and the hurt and pain I feel lessens.
“So does he know where you are, this Aaron guy?” Lottie curls her lip as she says his name. She might be small, but she can be pretty fierce.
“No.”
“And he hasn’t tried to contact you since you left?”
I shrug. “He's my husband, but seeing as he married a fictional person, I’m not even sure the marriage is legal.”
“Are you going to let him know that you’re not going back? I mean, you’re not going back, are you?”
“No! I don’t plan on going back, but I don’t plan on telling him anything either. How would I explain all of this shit? I disappeared once, and I can do it again.”
“I don’t want you to disappear.” She pouts. “I’ve missed you.”
I nod gently, reciprocating her feelings. “I just don’t know where to go from here.”
“We’ll figure something out. I know people, who…know people.”
“What do you mean?”
“You need help?” I nod. “Well, I’ll help. You need info, I know just the guy. If it means keeping my best friend safe, then I’ll pull out all the stops.”
“Thanks, Lottie. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you before. I just couldn’t drag you into it all like that.”
“Look, I know why you did it, but you’re my friend, mybestfriend. Actually, you’re more like a sister to me, so no more going it alone, okay?” She makes me laugh by following hermushy shitas she’d call it with a stern voice and a telling off.
“Okay, enough of my drama. I want to hear aboutyou. Your boyfriend owns this awesome place?”
“Noooo, my boyfriend’s brother.”
“Tell me more.” I lean forward, wanting to hear how happy she is.
We continue to chat, eat and laugh. It’s great to do “normal” but before I know it the day has run away with us, and Lottie has to leave for her shift in one of the local bars. I leave her in the foyer with a tight hug and a promise to call tomorrow to formulate some kind of plan. I don’t know what she has in mind, and I have no idea where to begin, but it feels like it might just all work out okay. Loneliness is hard on the mind when you have so many obstacles in your way, but when you have a friend like Lottie who is willing to hold your hand the whole way through, it suddenly feels easier. It actually feels possible to make some kind of sense out of this jumble I call my life so far.
I make my way to the elevator, and although my mind feels lighter, my legs feel heavy. The last twenty-four hours have exhausted me, and my head is racing with all kinds of thoughtsand possibilities. The ding sounds on the elevator, bringing me back to reality from my daydream and when the doors open, I instinctively step forward, my feet thinking before my brain, and walk straight into the person exiting. My hands fly up to correct myself, landing on a hard, wide, chest, and I look up to apologize.
Time stops.
I take in the features of the guy in front of me. This guy is not botoxed or surgically sculpted, but he is chiseled—all natural.
His hands grasp my shoulders to steady me, strong but gentle at the same time. He must be about six foot two as he stands a head above me, and is dressed in a slate gray suit, with a crisp white shirt which is unbuttoned twice, giving me just a peek of his flesh at my eye level. As my gaze slowly travels upwards, I notice his dark hair is damp and falls gently across his forehead.
His lips curl into a sexy little grin, and that simple movement breaks the trance-like state I seem to have put myself in. I blink twice and shake my head.
“My apologies, miss…?” he asks huskily. The vibration in his voice ripples through my body and down to the tips of my toes. Every follicle reacts by standing on end and my skin tingles.
“Uh…Jamesson. Miss Jamesson,” I manage to stutter, earning a low chuckle from him. I give him a nervous smile before I side-step to let him pass; he might be attractive, but I am not interested. But he doesn’t let me move away from him as easily as I would have liked. He makes it almost torturous instead by sliding his hands down my arms, and letting his thumbs trace the inside of my elbows, finally breaking contact when he gets to the very tips of my fingers. It isn’t sleazy or disrespectful, but I know it’s more than I can allow myself to want right now.
It’s only once he’s not physically touching me that I can breathe, and my brain returns to some kind of normalcy. Fora moment, I question my sanity. Men have only ever brought me trouble, but I’ve never had someone make me feel so mesmerized and so nervous at the same time. Clearly, I’m tired, possibly hormonal, and definitely emotional. It’s been a long, tumultuous few days, few years, and I’m clearly not in control of my reactions.
