“I despise it.”
I nodded, because what else could I do? “Everything has spin, Connor. Even in sports, there’s the language of the best hitter, the greatest catch, the most exciting team.”
He nodded, but his expression didn’t change. And I could see in his mind, it was all bullshit. And he didn’t respect bullshit.
“But you work with Sophia. She’s your publicist. Isn’t she your ultimate gray area? She’s a liar among liars, and she’s also the one who got you to little league practice. You must see that there’s good and bad—”
“She’s in my life because I made a deal with her. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“And when Cassie no longer needs your protection?”
His jaw muscles jumped at that. Obviously he would protect her until the day he died. “When and if Cassie is strong enough to face down Sophia, I will cut Sophia out of my life like the bad seed she is.”
Wow. I believed him. And I also had no trouble believing that Sophia deserved that and more. And yet, I thought of all my friends from foster care, kids I grew up with or who bounced in and out of my life in short blazes of glory. All of them were liars, by Connor’s definition. And many were a great deal worse. Thieves, con artists, abusers who had been abused and were just acting the way they’d been taught.
But they were also the kids who’d shared good times with me. They’d taught me how to face down bullies in school, scam a few dollars to get food, and hide when it was too dangerous to run.
“I can’t live in that kind of world, Connor. One where there is no flexibility and no understanding.”
“I know,” he said softly. Then he reached out and stroked my hair, wrapping a curl around his fingers. “I don’t like what you do most of the time. I wince at every Facebook post and tweet. I thought the publicity photos were okay, but then I saw you touching up Rob’s.”
“I was just adjusting for sunlight and bringing out his eyes.” Simple things. A normal part of my job, but I could understand the way he saw it. He’d been lied to most of his childhood, and now even the smallest twist in the facts bothered him. “Damn it, Connor, you’re smarter than this. You know the world doesn’t work in absolutes. You have to know that!”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hold myself to a higher standard. And those I love, too.”
God, he was twisting a knife in my chest. He’d said the word love. He’d even looked at me like I could be someone he cared about. Except at the same time, he was telling me that I didn’t measure up. That my job alone defined me as a liar. Which left me with one final, inescapable conclusion.
“So we’re done.”
“We should be,” he said. I would have left then, but he caught my hand and held me still. “But I don’t see a liar when I look at you. I don’t think about how you spend your day working the press.”
“What do you see?”
“A strong woman I admire. A woman who pushes me to face things I don’t want to see. A woman who makes me laugh when I really want to be grouchy. You make my heart lighter, and I can’t stop thinking about you.” He pulled my face to his. “Gia, I don’t know what to do here. I shouldn’t love you.”
I waited, wondering if he would finish the sentence. Wasn’t he supposed to say, I shouldn’t love you,but I do?But the words didn’t come, and that left me hanging, my heart beating painfully in my throat as I fought back tears.
But once the tears started pricking, anger swiftly rode in to save the day. Where the hell was my self-respect? He found my moral character lacking, the bastard. The only thing I’d done wrong was to open my heart and my body to him.
Well, fuck this. And fuck him. If he didn’t want me, then I was out of here. He could try and find some saint to grace his bed because that sure as hell would never be me. So I twisted my arm out of his, scrambled out of bed, and rushed to pull on my clothes. I had to get out of there before the pain became too deep. Before I curled into a corner and sobbed my eyes out.
Because this was the secret dread of every street kid—that someone would look deep enough to see their inner self and judge them as worthless.
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to get right in his face and yell that I was not immoral. That I had never lied about anything. That I was pure as the driven snow, but that wasn’t true. And so I told him the truth. As I jerked on my bra and T-shirt, the words started falling like the tears I wouldn’t let go.
“Well, I guess you dodged a bullet with me then.” I lifted my gaze and glared at him. “Because I don’t just spin stories about the Bobcats. I’ve lied about much bigger things. I’ve said my mother’s dead when she wasn’t. In my college essay, I wrote that I’d slept on the street for months when it was only a couple of weeks. I used to steal food from the restaurants where I worked, and I have no idea how many times I’ve shoplifted. I started with mittens because my hands were so fucking cold, but once I stole a pair of jeans right off a table display. They didn’t fit me worth a damn, but I kept them anyway. I ended up giving them to my foster sister. They fit her like a dream.”
I jerked my T-shirt into place then folded my arms across my belly. I didn’t want to say these things to him. I didn’t want the words to come out to anyone, but they kept flowing along with all the pain and embarrassment. “I used to get high, too, when I was with my second to last foster family. We all did. I was nine.”
“Gia, you don’t have to tell me—”
“I want you to know who you’ve been sleeping with. A liar and a thief. Oh, and that’s another thing. I lost my virginity at thirteen. I was seeing a high school kid, and he said it was that or he’d dump me, so I said yes. It hurt like hell, but I pretended I liked it.”
He cringed. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was. Thank God, my final foster family set me straight. And my foster uncle taught the bastard what happens when someone screws with a Kubic. He beat the crap out of him, and I hadn’t even been adopted yet. My new mother taught me about self-respect for when I felt strong and gave me condoms for when I didn’t.” Tears wet my face, and I wiped them away with impatient slaps at my cheeks. “You’re blackmailing your bitch of a sister, and you have the nerve to tell me I’m not good enough. That you hate yourself because you might have feelings for me.”
“That’s not true!” He was off the bed now, standing before me, stark naked. I saw him wince as he put weight on his swollen knee, and I hated myself because I wanted to help him tape it up. “I’m trying to say I’m confused. You aren’t like anyone I ever thought I’d want. And yet I think about you all the time. I want you in my bed all the time.”
