Page 114 of Threaded Lies

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing.” Her face is a mask of innocence, but I know her better than that.

“What?”

“That’s a lot of moving parts to all be in the same place at the same time to accidentally run into each other, is all I’m saying.” She holds her hands up and shrugs. “But I’m skeptical of everything and everybody all the time.”

“It wasn’t planned,” I say more to myself than to her.

But even as I say the words, there is something in the back of my mind that doesn’t sit right. The same something I’ve been feeling for some time.

Something is going on.

I just don’t know what.

Holden has me looking at plot maps of land and finding the LLCs that own them. He has a real estate agent looking at places in Fairmont. Rhett is closing a real estate deal. Holden’s angry over my engagement to Chad.

“And your mom?” Sloane asks.

“Ha. Emmaline Rothschild is pissed. She’s not talking to me at all. Or we’ll say she did for a five-minute tirade before she hung up without letting me speak. She’s livid. Humiliated. Disappointed in the choices I’ve made. Doesn’t understand why I’d shame our family like this. Why I’d lower myself to the level of a cheater.”

“She’s met half the men in Westmore, right?” she asks.

I’m just about to top off her glass when the knock comes at the door. Our eyes meet across the coffee table and she says, “I’ll get it.”

“No.” I rise. “I need to face whoever this is since apparently I’ve screwed everyone’s life up.”

“Good dick always screws other people’s lives up.”

I burst out laughing, needing her levity more than she knows in this moment. And even more so when I swing the door open and come face-to-face with Holden.

He stands before me in a navy-blue T-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. It’s not a look he wears often but it’s one I’ve come to love. It’s almost an awkward suit of armor for him when he’s so used to wearing a dress shirt and slacks.

“Rowan.” My name is gravel on his vocal cords. “You’re not returning my calls.”

I shift so that he can see Sloane over my shoulder—my own suit of armor in a sense because he can’t say anything he doesn’t want others to hear. He gives her a nod, but I can tell by the way he looks at me that he’d much rather be alone.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So it seems.” He nods in greeting to Sloane. “We need to talk.”

“Fine. Let’s talk. Sloane’s my lawyer. She knows everything.”

“Okay.” He draws the word out and I can tell he’s not too thrilled with this development. “Can we speak in private?”

“Sure. Yes.” I step outside and shut the door at my back.

“I’m sorry our dinner was ruined. I’m sorry that your family found out about us that way and that there are rumors and gossip and all this shit that comes with it being whispered around town. But most of all, I’m upset that you’re upset over them all finding out about us, but I won’t apologize for it because I’m sick of having to hide from everyone.”

“Did you know they were going to be there? Was this some master plan to—”

“Do you not trust me, Rowan?” he asks, and there is such a raw honesty in the break in his voice that I just stare at him and blink.

“No. That’s the problem. I do.” Two words that are so very simple but which just laid all my cards on the table.

I trust him. Finally. He earned that back from me.

His smile is slow and boyish and causes a swell of emotion inside me.