Текст книги "Loving the White Liar"
Автор книги: Kate Stewart
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Loving The White Liar
COPYRIGHT © 2015 Kate Stewart
Editing by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Spark Editing
Cover Design & Formatting by Jersey Girl & Co.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/ or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
About The Author
Thank You
Excerpt from ROOM 212
Excerpt from NEVER ME
For my husband Nick, my love, my life, thank you
for the gift of your friendship and unwavering love.
I’m so proud of us.
They say to write what you know. When I started this book, I had every intention of personalizing it much more than I did. In fact, instead of telling my experience, I created a different world and different characters altogether. This story in almost no way resembles my own, but I will say the symptoms, emotions, and reactions portrayed very much do.
I am disclosing to you in advance that I am in no way an expert on ADHD or any other disorder. The people and scenarios in this book are entirely fictional and should not be interpreted as real in any way.
This is book is a result of living a decade as an ADHD partner, and is in no way a model for the diagnosis and treatment of the disorder itself.
That being said, I hope you love Jayden and Hilary’s story as much as I loved writing it...even the hard parts, because that’s what makes the good parts worth having.
– XO Kate
I met my true love when I was twenty-seven. He was handsome, charming, witty, and irresistible. Jayden Monroe came along when I was struggling with indecision and made things simple, turned monochrome into vivid color, and forever altered my perspective on life.
I was not naive enough to believe in happily ever after, but with Jayden, it seemed possible...until I realized something wasn’t quite right.
You see, I met a man who would be anyone I needed him to be, and after I found out that fact, I knew it would be impossible to walk away. His disorder, however, would change everything I ever thought about love and what it truly meant to accept someone for who they are.
This is not my sob story; this is his success story.
“Miss!”
For the love of Christ.
“Miss!”
Seriously, how much would they tip on a twenty-dollar tab?
“Miss!”
I was the worst waitress ever.
“Miss!”
“I’ll be right with you!” I shrieked, desperately pleading for just a minute of peace. I’d already visited that table no less than ten times in twenty minutes. They’d ordered grilled chicken salads. How high maintenance could that possibly be?
“Can we get more ranch?”
I looked down at the sea of ranch in her bowl that swallowed the sparse amount of green and sighed. Reluctantly heading to the kitchen, I grabbed the dressing, noting my best friend Gerri sitting on the counter glaring at her tip count. Gerri was short for Geraldine, a name she cursed her parents for repeatedly over the years.
“There really has to be more to life than this shit,” I said with a scowl as I opened the fridge, filling two cups of ranch and seeing through the double doors that the annoying patrons at my table were pushing their plates away. They’d never needed more of anything, except someone to order around. Those types of tables made it hard for me to maintain faith in the human race.
Gerri eyed me with slight fear. “I’m not going to make rent again. Might as well hit the bar.”
“No.” I shook my head as I walked past her. “No.” I gave her a sharp look before bursting through the double doors, check in hand, and the requested ranch.
“We don’t need it now,” one of the girls snapped, taking her ticket as I thanked them and walked away.
Ah, so she wanted to justify giving me a shitty tip. Nothing new.
“Leave a dollar, at least,” the other, more personable woman at the table scorned.
“You know I won’t. I don’t do charity.” I froze at the waitress stand when I heard those words. It took everything I had not to walk over to bitch slap the woman and shake out her three hundred dollar Coach purse for my charitable contribution.
When the women got up, I walked by and smiled right at them. “I hope you both choke on a nice day!”
They smiled back in fake reply, neither of them catching my sarcasm, while I began to bus their table.
Ralphie, the sixteen-year-old busboy, shooed me away. “I’ve got this, Miss. Go on.”
“Don’t call me Miss. It makes me feel old,” I scolded gently.
“You are ten years older than me.” He winked as he pulled the empty glasses out of my hand. Totally stunned, I stared after him as he continued his task.
And that was the moment that time stopped for me.
Actually, I was eleven years older than he was, and I’d been waitressing at the same place for four years. It was supposed to have been temporary, and I’d only been twenty-three the day I took the job. I was supposed to be figuring out what to do with my life and instead I’d ended up at Grady’s Grill as a permanent fixture.
Oh my God.
Looking up at the rusted but working clock over the checkout counter, I noted the time.
Don’t do anything crazy, Hilary. Ten minutes...just ten minutes and you’re off.
Bursting through the double swinging doors leading into the kitchen, I looked at Gerri as my face paled.
“Oh, God, you didn’t make rent, either. We’re screwed.” Her shoulders slumped as I walked up to her, pulling all the cash out of her hand.
“I have rent. I save my tips. And you still owe me for last month. Get it together,” I snapped as she gave me the evil eye.
“So what the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, following me to the dish room where I began to stack glasses.
“I’ve been working here too long. I have to get out of here now.”
Gerri suddenly looked panicked, and deep down I knew it was because she believed me. When I set my mind to something, I stuck to it. I’d stayed true to that my entire life, except for when it came to a career choice. I couldn’t commit. I’d gone to school to be a nurse and dropped out as soon as I saw what installing a catheter entailed. I would never look at a flaccid penis the same. I’d changed my major to business and got so bored I started the bad habit of online shopping and damn near flunked out while maxing out my credit cards. By my junior year, I had a hundred and ninety-seven credits and not enough classes taken for either degree so I decided to join the workforce for a while until I figured out my next step.
That was four years ago.
I’d been swallowed by the black hole of indecision and now I’d lost the entirety of my twenties to it. Looking up at the safety reflective mirror above the double doors, I saw Flo from the TV LAND sitcom Mel’s Diner looking back at me and let out a shriek.
“Oh my GOD!”
Gerri very calmly walked up to me and put her hands on my shoulders. Her short, spiky brown hair was a scattered mess, and I couldn’t help but think she was adorable as she tried to comfort me. Gerri could only be described as cute. She was petite and had the most animated features on a girl I’d ever seen. Her eyes were huge, but still beautiful, and a bright blue. She’d been my best friend for nearly three years and my roommate for two. I wasn’t a fan of too many girls, but I loved her spontaneity. She was a spur of the moment kind of gal. No, seriously, her last suggestion was that we make the nearly twenty-four hour drive to Las Vegas and spend the day gambling to pay for the trip. I’d actually been bored and desperate enough to believe it a possibility, until we only had twenty dollars left. We were starving and had no gas money left to get home. It was still one of the most exciting things I’d ever done. Even though I still gave her shit for it, secretly I thanked her.
How we got home was another story entirely.
She was always the life of the party, and only took responsibility for being irresponsible.
“Okay, before you freak out, just hear me out,” she said, demanding my attention.
“Too late!” My panic began to rise as I thought of the years I’d wasted pacing this diner with food instead of finding my niche.
“We should go to Mike’s, have a few beers, shoot some pool,” Gerri said seriously, as if our everyday routine would make things better.
“I’m trying to break away from the norm, Gerri,” I said, shaking my head, “not institutionalize myself!” I was yelling now as Joe, the main cook and my boss, rounded the corner.
“Your yapping is giving me a headache,” he mouthed smartly as he eyed me warily. “What’s your problem?”
“I’m putting in my two weeks,” I said without thinking.
His eyes widened and he turned his head to the side in his ‘What you talkin’ ’bout, Willis?’ move. Okay, apparently I watched too much TV LAND. He put his hands on his hips in an attempt to show authority and I nearly laughed, mocking him. Joe seemed like a hardass, but deep down he was a teddy bear. His northern accent was rough, but his eyes were always kind.
“Are you going to give me a reason for leaving?”
“I don’t want to be your Flo, Mel.” He furrowed his brows, making me laugh. Was I the only one who watched old reruns?
“I need to do something else. Nothing against you or this place—Ow.” I jerked my arm away as Gerri pinched it with wide eyes that begged me to keep my mouth shut.
“Don’t you think you should find a job first?!” she scolded as I gave her my attention.
“I just gave myself two weeks of motivation,” I whispered back in a way that let her know she should back off.
Joe stood for only a moment before his eyes softened more than usual. “We’ve always got room for you here, Hilary, if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Joe,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He stared at my hand as if it was covered in shit before I removed it. The man was a mystery, and would have to remain that way. I wasn’t sticking around to figure him out.
I was moving on to greener pastures, and would soon have another mystery on my hands. Maybe this one would be worth solving, and hopefully liked to watch old episodes of Different Strokes and thought Jr. Mints were God’s gift to humanity. And maybe this mystery could sport a large penis and have a skilled tongue, dark hair, maybe...or light. And he had to have sisters—I couldn’t handle any more mama’s boys—aka only-child men. Screw that shit. Also if he could—
“That was stupid!” Gerri said, jerking me out of my dream man wish list. “Now you have no job.”
I untied my apron then slammed it on the metal counter. “I can’t believe you, the queen of ‘I’m short on every bill we have this month,’ is lecturing me. Shut up. I’ve got this.”
And even though my legs were shaking along with my voice, I pressed once again through those double doors, which only fueled me more. I was scared to leave my waitressing job and that was all the motivation I needed.
Okay, you have two more laps; you can do this.
I circled my apartment complex’s community pool, my limbs burning in protest as I pushed as hard as I could. Spending the entirety of late spring into summer after my shifts taking out my frustration in the water, I had lost a few pounds and was proud of my new endurance. It took my mind off the ever present gnaw in my chest from my last breakup and helped to keep me exhausted and at home, instead of spending my money out with Gerri. The most I was up for these days was a stale beer and a round of pool after my shift.
“You really love her?”
“Yes.”
Remembering Sean’s words helped propel me through the last few laps. Our year together had been over for almost the same length of time, yet I was still reliving it. I knew it was because I hadn’t given anyone else half a chance. I wasn’t jaded. He’d ended it before he had a chance to cheat. I could feel him growing distant in the last few months of our relationship. I knew it was coming, but I’d ignored the signs and didn’t do a damn thing to save it, or say a damn word to persuade him otherwise. There was no point.
Two tears in a bucket, fuck it.
If a man wanted to be with me, he damn sure better make me believe I was the only woman that existed, not his runner up.
So, as much as I wanted to believe I was still hurting over Sean, in truth, I was just bored. Pulling myself up to sit on the side of the pool, I let my feet dangle in the water, making circles while I fought to get my breath under control.
I had bigger issues than my lackluster love life. I had exactly two weeks to find a new job, and that was part of the problem. I wanted a career, not another escape from the never-ending question of where I fit in the grand scheme. But the more I thought about it, the more I came up empty.
I decided to look up some possible career choices on the web. I mean, that’s why God invented Google.
Making my way toward my towel on one of the empty lounge chairs, I heard the pool gate open. I looked up simply because for the last hour I’d been completely alone with my thoughts and the water.
“Holeeee shit,” I muttered under my breath as I turned away from the interloper, making sure my suit was covering all the right places. I’d seen more than one or two hot guys grace the pool.
Gerri and I had moved into this complex specifically because it catered to young twenty-something’s. We lived on the outskirts of Spartanburg, South Carolina, which housed five colleges. The city sat right on the border of North and South Carolina, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountain range. I had grown up an hour closer to Columbia, but had ended up here for school. It was a decent enough city. Well, for a college kid.
It seemed an ideal place to live at first, but as of a year ago, I was over it once it proved to be just another ragged out college complex with too many alcohol induced parties and way too much visitor traffic. Unfortunately, Gerri insisted we finish out our lease.
Braving another glance over at the eye candy who took a seat in a lounge chair with his iPod in hand, I eyed him as he looked down, shuffling through his music. He glanced up at me then gave me a wink before putting the buds in his ears and closing his eyes.
I threw on my cover up and walked past him, relieved that I wouldn’t be forced to make small talk. What I did do was take in his tanned, toned legs, his hard and slightly ripped stomach, and pronounced pecs that covered an insanely broad chest. He was sweating already from the unforgiving sun and when my eyes drifted from his sculpted chin to his long fanned eyelashes, I damn near hit the edge of his chair as I walked past. His dark brown hair was an unruly mess and stuck up at all angles. It was thick and sexy as hell, and just long enough to run my hands through. He had a full sleeve of ink on his right arm. It was colorful and filled with musical notes and what looked like song lyrics. He moved his head slightly back and forth and I couldn’t peel my eyes away even after I passed his chair.
He probably dated girls with a contingency and told them flat out that it would just be for fun, nothing serious, no strings. And he probably got away with it often.
And that type of guy was most definitely not my type.
That’s all I ever heard any more about dating.
“He’s not looking for anything serious,” or, “I want to have fun but no more than that.”
These phrases seemed to be the motto of my generation of cowards. No one wanted to risk getting hurt. Or even worse, experience the feeling of rejection. Men and women of my age seemed to think it was a sign of weakness to admit to wanting more than casual sex.
Not me, I wanted to experience it all. I’d loved hard before and lost big, and it hadn’t killed me. It hurt, like it was supposed to. It also made me a junkie for more.
I loved the idea of falling hard for someone who could finish my sentences or finding a soul mate. I’d dated a ton over the last ten years and actually found it helpful instead of discouraging. I may have no idea what I wanted career wise, but I damn sure knew what I wanted in a man.
My expectations weren’t impossible to meet, either. But what I did know is I wanted that feeling again. And I knew someday I would have it. I’d given myself a break over the last year, only taking one walk of shame. It was a result of drunken sex, which is always great at the time, but a false memory in the morning. Looking at Mr. Sex with the iPod somehow made my situation seem hopeless. I wondered if all the men I was attracted to were casual play only.
If I was the last of the romantics of my generation, where could I possibly find my match? Were there any guys out there looking to do more than hook up with a random girl to get off? I was all for sexual gratification, but once I learned what sex and love felt like hand in hand, there was no going back.
Opening the gate, I heard the splash behind me, and though I didn’t want to look, I had to. This man was gorgeous. His arms waded through the water so gracefully that I stood motionless and dripping with my towel surrounding me. When he ended his lap at the other side of the pool and surfaced for air, his eyes found mine and I practically ran away, embarrassed I’d been busted. I did catch his sideways, curious glance and small smile before I bolted.
Walking back into my apartment, I closed the door, leaning with my hands splayed flat against it like I had just outrun a predator.
What the hell was that, Hilary? Oh, girl, you need to get laid.
I had always considered myself a pretty confident woman. Good looking guys with hot bodies had never intimidated me much before. I’d even had one or two between my legs. Apparently, I was getting rusty. And even as I thought about it, I knew it would take a back seat on my priority list.
Feeling the AC kick on, I hightailed it into the shower to get warm. Gerri, being the most considerate roommate in the world, barged in just as my shoulders relaxed under the scorching water.
“Let’s go to Mike’s.”
“No,” I said sharply as I listened to her rummaging through the drawers.
“One beer.”
“NO!” I barked. “I have work to do.”
“Like what?” she protested, shutting the toilet lid and planting herself on our shared throne.
“Look, I’m tired. I just need to think about my next move. Not tonight, okay?” I peeked out of the shower to see her fully dressed and in fresh makeup. She was sure I would agree.
“Take a twenty out of my wallet and go.”
She jumped off the toilet and clapped her hands. “I should’ve known you only wanted me for my money.”
“It’s not that. I’m...It’s...”
“I know,” I sighed. “It’s Mike and I’m going to remind you for the hundredth time, he’s got a girlfriend, whom he loves.”
Gerri gave me the same exasperation she always did when I nailed her with the truth.
“He will be mine.” She walked out of the bathroom, head held high as I shut the curtain, resuming my task. Gerri was a romantic in her own right. We’d been frequenting Mike’s for eight months due to her infatuation with him. She seemed to think it was kismet we stumbled into his bar. She’d been completely single focused in her pursuit of him, and faithful to boot. She hadn’t had a single man to our apartment since she declared her love. Unfortunately, the fascination seemed one sided. She was a glutton for the reminder, choosing to spend her tips sitting across from him almost every night. I envied her in a way and had hoped on more than one occasion she would get her wish.
My phone buzzed on my bed as I threw on my nightclothes. It was a group text from my mother to me and my siblings.
Mom: Brunch Sunday. No excuses, I want my kids under one roof. If you don’t come, we will carpool until every last one of you is picked up. Bradley PLEASE leave your girlfriend at home. I can’t stand her.
Me: I’ll be there early, Mom, to help out. Tell me what to bring.
I burst out laughing as my siblings replies came in.
Brad: She’s in New York for a shoot. And why don’t you like her?
Sabrina: I have church.
That was the worst excuse imaginable. The last I’d heard she was a practicing Wiccan.
Alexis: Hilary you are such a kiss ass. I’ll bring champagne and OJ.
Sabrina: Ohhhhh mimosa’s. I’ll go to the late service.
Alexis: Nothing shows more devotion than showing up to worship the master of creation with a buzz.
Sabrina: Jesus did turn water into wine.
Alexis: Point taken. Hilary, bring my damned heels back. It’s been six months.
The next notice was: Brad has left the conversation.
I laughed out loud. My brother, God bless him, knew when to bail. This group text could very well last the better part of an hour and he spared himself from his four older sisters’ ramblings. As the baby of the family, he’d grown up in the torturous household filled with teenage girls. He had been a late surprise for my mother, who had assumed she was done bearing children, until he popped up on her thirty-ninth birthday. I adored Brad and had doted on him his entire life. He was the spitting image of my father and looked more and more like him as he aged.
And, of course, Molly was the last to answer.
Molly: Ok :)
Sweet Molly was an anomaly in the family. While the rest of us were full of dark, snarky sarcasm, Molly was a completely good-natured, glass half-full kind of girl. So naturally, we used it against her, claiming she was a product of Mom’s onetime affair with the mailman. It didn’t help she was the only one of us with blonde hair.
I missed her. We were closest in age and she was off at Clemson finishing her degree.
Hilary: Miss you, Molly.
My mother was probably monitoring like she always did. She was the type to sit back as the girls shoveled their way into inappropriate behavior then would strike later at the most opportune time. I threw my phone on the bed, catching my appearance in my floor length mirror. My long, dark auburn hair was still damp. I let my eyes wander over my naked body. It was an improvement from the quick cover up I used to do a few months ago to avoid looking at myself. My thighs were still a little too thick up top, and although my muffin top was dwindling, I still had a good amount of pudge in my midsection. My chest was far smaller than average and if that wasn’t enough of an insult, my left boob was almost a half a cup smaller than my right.
I didn’t win the genetic lottery by any means. The one attribute I did have were electric blue eyes like my father, and I was the only one in the family blessed with them. At twenty-seven, I credited myself with accepting what I’d looked like and not only that, owning it.
You know that saying “Wherever you go, there you are?” Well, I took it a step further by deciding wherever I went I was in good company. I liked me and I didn’t need an entourage, a thousand social media friends, or a full calendar of dates to feel important. I didn’t need to be admired.
What was important to me was to keep liking the company I was with. I wanted to be proud of myself. I’d fallen into the bad habit of trying to impress others when I was younger. I’d turned into a vile, self-important, cunt bag and was disgusted. Now, all I wanted was a sense of purpose.
I’d cut my friends years ago to a small circle that included Gerri. Only the women who had sat through my snot-filled cries without turning the focus back to them had made the cut.
Life was short, friends were important, but snot cry friends were for life.
I pulled up my laptop to Google possible new career choices. Going back to school no longer appealed to me. Having a degree for the sake of having one seemed ridiculous. I wanted to do something I was passionate about, even if that meant I’d be in the low earning tax bracket.
After two hours of searching, I came up with a few possible choices: chef, flight attendant (could be fun to travel), dream job (set hand at Happy Gilmore Productions).
The third idea stemmed from a rerun of The Wedding Singer playing on my TV. Because, let’s face it, what could be more fun than working on an Adam Sandler movie?
Unfortunately for me, I lived in South Carolina and the headquarters of Adam’s production company were in New York, which for a southern girl seemed like Siberia. I looked up possible culinary schools in the area and decided to check them out further.
I also took two career quizzes to determine what I was best suited for and rolled my eyes at the results.
Nurse or teacher.
I filled out a few applications for available positions I could stomach in the meantime and shut my laptop, no closer to a solution than I was when I foolishly quit my job hours before. I was drifting off to sleep, watching my usual TV LAND marathon when Gerri burst through my bedroom door.
“Hey, you awake?”
“No.” I turned away from her as she sat on the edge of my bed, bouncing up and down.
“Whaaaaaaaaaat?” I questioned as she bounced harder, jerking me around. I would never get that happy place back between reality and dreaming if I didn’t ask.
“He looked at me tonight. I mean really looked at me.”
“Oh?” I turned over to look up at her.
She blew out a frustrated breath as her shoulders slumped. “Look, I know I seem like a crazy person when it comes to Mike and maybe I have been, but tonight things shifted.”
I rubbed my sleep-filled eyes. “Did he break up with his girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. I think they are having problems. He ignored the rest of the bar all night. We talked for hours.” She bit her lip and gave me big eyes.
“That’s great, but, Gerri, think about this: he may have just needed a shoulder, okay? I don’t want you getting your hopes up.”
She stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like that, all right. Forget it. I don’t know why I even talk to you about it. You were anti-Mike from the get go.”
“Hey,” I said, grabbing her hand as I sat up in bed, giving her my full attention. “The only reason is because he’s attached, okay? I want you to be happy. And I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She nodded, but I could still feel the contempt. “You know I love you, right?” I added.
She gave me a grudging smile and nodded.
“You know what, Gerri? I admire you. You want him. Well, it’s been months. Go for it. Tell him how you feel and see what happens. I don’t agree with you making a move on someone else’s boyfriend. I can’t stand a cheat, but if he means this much to you, you have to give it a shot.” In a warning tone, I added, “But don’t you dare settle for being a fling.”
She looked at me in with utter seriousness. “I think I’m in love with him.”
“I know.” I felt the fear creep up my spine. I saw heartache in her future and was helpless to stop it. Gerri was beautiful and deserved Mike if she wanted him. I would make it my mission to pay a little closer attention to him next time we went to the bar. I needed to figure out once and for all if she was completely delusional in her affection for him.
“We’ll go after work tomorrow, okay? One beer. You don’t want to seem too eager.”
Her eyes lit up as she thanked me and wiggled her ass in a small dance out the door. And for the brief few minutes before sleep claimed me, I thought about the last time I’d felt that way about a guy. My last thought was of Mr. Sexy iPod before I drifted away.
