Real Liars

by S. M. West

  “Finally, think of the symbolism of scaling back the event. We’re putting our money where our mouths are. I’ve already got a media pitch in mind about how our different approach is improving our impact. Think of the great publicity for the foundation and ultimately our cause.”

  Reagan steps forward, ready to rebut but I carry on, not giving her a chance. She’ll get her turn.

  “The Rothwell Foundation has been great for the many causes you’ve supported, but there hasn’t been any clear direction on what you stand for. Or any key performance indicators to show your efforts have made an impact. We can change all that this year. We’ll be able to speak to the cost savings through our innovation, flipping Nuit Étoilée on its head. And we’ve talked about the more-than-money approach where we can build on the good of the gala.”

  An upbeat murmur swells through the group and most are nodding and smiling at me by the time I’m finished.

  Except for Reagan.

  “This is ridiculous. Talk about ghetto,” she snaps. “We’ll be laughed at in the press, and think about our patrons.” She spins around, face screwed up like a grumpy old man’s. “They’re paying thousands to attend and then they’re asked to donate, and in return we’re hosting here. No air-conditioning and the mosquitoes and—”

  “Reagan, a word.” Zach marches to her side, leading her by the arm away from the group.

  She can be heard saying, “Zach, you know I’m right,” when Nan steps up, her smile tight, most probably from Reagan’s desire to cause a scene, but the shimmer reaches her eyes.

  “If you say you can make this the best gala we’ve ever had, I believe you. I believe in you.”

  The pressure is huge with her support and while overwhelming, I don’t shy away. “I do believe it’ll be spectacular. Just stick with me for a few more minutes.” My hand stretches toward the lake. “Imagine a dance floor just there, at the water’s edge, with a canopy of twinkling lights, like stars, above.”

  “It would be different,” Cormac says encouragingly, and I turn to meet his supportive gaze.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I’m drawn to the two apart from us. Unable to help myself, I linger on Zach and Reagan deep in conversation and while I don’t have to wonder what she’s saying, I wish I could hear what he has to say. There’s something about the two of them together that gnaws at my insides in an uncomfortable, almost rankling, way.

  “And over there,” I say, pushing them out of my mind as I point to another area of the lot, “we’ll have the dinner tables and the silent auction. And in that far corner, the bar. It won’t look anything like this, I promise.”

  The majority are now in agreement and Nan steps in, taking votes on the parking lot as the setting for the benefit. My attention is stuck on Zach and Reagan.

  His expression is grim as she shakes her head from side to side to whatever he has just said. Then she walks away from him, from the rest of us, toward a black sedan idling at the curb. He watches her get in and drive away with his back to us, to me. I vaguely hear Nan’s triumphant voice declaring unanimous consent—well, except for Reagan—on the venue.

  I should be happy and filled with overwhelming relief—one major hurdle overcome—but I can’t shake the feeling Reagan isn’t done. And more importantly, her discontent isn’t about the foundation or gala, but because of Zach.

  Pippa stares at me, her blue eyes huge, and she’s speechless. I’ve just told her everything. She knows about the deal with Zach and that everything is fake. The lies were eating at me, especially telling them to my family and best friend. It’s one thing to let Zach’s associates and colleagues think we’re an item, but it’s entirely different to let those nearest and dearest to me think I’ve found the man of my dreams.

  And even if that’s true, we aren’t real.

  I let out a shaky breath and stare at my phone, my best friend looking back at me. “Say something. Please.”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Pippa says matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah.” I blink back the burning tears, eager to fall. “And that’s why it needs to end fast. I’m starting to believe him, everything he says and does.”

  “But, wait.” She shuts the door to her office. “Maybe it is real? From everything you’ve told me, he sounds like the real deal.”

  God, I want what she says to be true and she’s only repeating what I’ve been asking myself for weeks. “It feels real. Realer than anything I’ve ever had.”

  “Then talk to him.”

  “I have and he just says to enjoy it. I don’t know what it means.” I walk with my phone from the bathroom where I dressed for bed onto the terrace. I am tired but also wired and needed to talk to Pippa.

  Zach will be home any minute now and I’m hoping, being out on the balcony, I’ll be able to finish my chat with Pippa before he finds me. He had an event this evening and he wanted me there, but with the gala only a week away, I couldn’t spare the time. My night was spent on the phone, finalizing every little detail with the various vendors.

  “Maybe you need to tell him how you feel.” She’s trying to be encouraging but only adding to my turmoil.

  “And say what, I’m falling in love with you and I hope this is real and you feel the same?”

  “It’s a start. At least this way, you’d know where you stand.”

  My hands run through my unruly hair and I shake my head. I’m too tired to think clearly, let alone absorb any of her advice.

  “I wish you’d told me sooner. Here I was thinking this was your happily ever after…” She trails off until our gazes collide. “And it still could be. Listen, you should get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, glancing back into the bedroom at the sign of movement. “Before you go, you said you had news for me?”

  “Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Drew wanted you to know that his condo is available. His tenant found another place sooner than he thought. You can move in anytime.” She pauses, studying me. “That is, if you still want to.”

  Weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice. My bags would be packed, and I’d be out the door, thanking Zach for letting me stay. And now? I don’t know which way is up. The thought of leaving, not seeing him every day, scares me and leaves me feeling hollow.

  Empty.

  “Paige?” Zach steps into the moonlight, his dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his smooth, defined chest.

  “Hey,” I’m quick to say, turning to face him. “I’m just saying goodbye to Pip.”

  I flip the phone for him to see my bubbly, blonde friend sitting in her home in New York City and the two of them do their hellos and how are yous. Pippa even goes so far as to make a comment about his state of undress. That woman.

  Zach laughs, winking into the phone. “This is how Paige likes me, undressed.”

  They laugh, I smile, shaking my head even though it’s true, and he captures me in his arms, his lips pressing lightly to my forehead. “I’m going to shower.”

  “Okay.” My hand glides along his jaw, the rough stubble of his day-old growth sending tingles down my spine. I watch him leave before dipping my gaze to Pippa. “Thanks for listening. I’ll let you know about the condo. Right now,” I whisper as I look up to where Zach was just standing and my stomach knots, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Okay, babe. Take all the time you need and call me whenever. I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And for what it’s worth, I think he’s just as crazy for you as you are for him.”

  “Yeah, right.” My heart flutters, hopeful and contrasting my cynical tone. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Pippa says before I hit the end button.

  Darkness and the oppressive humidity surround me. Hugging myself, my thoughts are chastising. I’ve done the very thing I said I wouldn’t do. I’ve gotten involved with another man—so much for taking a break—and worse yet, it wasn’t just any man.

  Zach was m
eant to be safe. A charade.

  Yet this doesn’t feel safe or make-believe. Being with Zach feels more real than any other man I’ve ever been with. And this is the last thing I need—to fall for the guy who isn’t mine and doesn’t want or intend to be.

  Twenty-Seven

  Zach

  “Put me down,” Paige hollers from the offices in the back of the foundation headquarters, laughter in her tone. “Put me down.”

  I pass several committee members and each glance my way, more reproachful than the last. The men pretend disinterest in the fun times coming from the back and the women purse their wrinkled red-lipstick lips, ready to scold for whatever inappropriate thing is going on.

  I’m used to those stares. The aged and wealthy like to act haughty and better than, despite some of the stories I’ve heard about them in their youth. In this case, I, too, am wary and eager to find out what all the laughter and noise means.

  “Not unless you say I was right,” a smug male voice responds to Paige’s plea, and I pick up my pace.

  There in the middle of the room is Tom—tall, blond, and with his hands all over Paige. He has her tossed over his shoulder, twirling her around, one hand at her waist and the other resting comfortably on the back of her thigh. They’re laughing and smiling, and I want to rip his arms from their sockets.

  “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Hey, man,” he says in greeting, totally missing my less than pleased glare. A few beats pass and then he stops circling and stumbles a step or two. I lunge toward the woman in his arms, prepared to catch her if he falls.

  He doesn’t.

  With his footing under him, he smiles, and I scowl. We’re only inches apart now and my hands are firmly planted around Paige’s waist, but he doesn’t let her go. He may have helped me out by keeping an eye out for Joel at her place but he’s getting too cozy with Paige for my liking.

  She lifts her head at my touch, chocolate locks spilling around her. “Zach.” Her voice is breathy and light. “Tom, put me down.”

  Her eyes flare with excitement at me, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest or jaw. Tom relinquishes his hold and I scoop her into my arms for but a second before placing her feet on the ground. I don’t release my grasp.

  “Hey, Zach.” The blond surfer dude, all laid-back and casual, runs a hand through his hair before extending it to me. “Good to see you. I’ve been Paige’s slave for the day.” His hip lightly bumps hers and she laughs, swaying into him.

  “Hello.” My voice is tight, my tone more goodbye than greeting.

  She crosses her arms and studies me while Tom, the smart guy he is, grabs his backpack from the table, slinging it over his shoulder.

  “Okay, well, I’m gonna bounce.” He barely looks my way, halfway to the door. “Paige, I’m heading over to the lot to make sure the electrical is all set up. Call me if you need anything else.” He doesn’t wait for her response, slipping out the door.

  “Bye. Thanks.” Her gaze flicks from the door to me and her expression tightens, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was rude.”

  “Yes, it was.” I’m uncharacteristically sheepish.

  “Why?” She winds her hair into a knot on the top of her head.

  “I saw him…” I lace my fingers behind my neck and frown, grappling for the words to explain. “His hands on…” I pause, wading into uncharted territory.

  “Tom is Pippa’s younger brother and a friend. A good friend, like a brother.”

  “I overreacted and I’ll apologize the next time I see him.”

  “Zach.” Her messy knot bobs back and forth as she shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”

  Beautiful.

  “I’m here to help.” Tomorrow is the big day and she has the entire committee here, all hands working. She didn’t ask for my help, but I’m here to offer my support.

  “That’s sweet of you.” She grabs a clipboard with an endless list and her finger slides down the page.

  With the lead-up to the gala, we haven’t had a lot of time alone. She falls into bed at night, exhausted, and in the morning she’s usually up with me, but dashes out to work.

  I glance around the large conference room and the sounds of voices filter in, reminding me we’re not alone. I want her alone. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  She looks up from the clipboard, nibbling on her bottom lip, deep in thought. “Um, not really.” Her eyes slide down the long list of tasks and then back to me. “I could use the help.”

  “It won’t take long.” I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling the cool metal against my fingers. “Let’s go out back.”

  “Paige.” Nan strolls into the room, carrying a large roll of paper. “Where did you want the silent auction?”

  I’m immediately forgotten, as she steps from me and helps my grandmother lay the long sheet of paper flat on the desk. It’s the floorplan of the parking lot, which within hours will be transformed into Nuit Étoilée.

  “Over here.” She points to one corner of the diagram. “Why?”

  “That’s what I thought.” My grandmother wrinkles her brow. “It’s all right. That’s where they are setting up.”

  My fingers play with the small item in my pocket and impatience blooms, sharp and coiling around my insides. Much like I get in meetings when things aren’t going my way, I take the bull by the horns. I had envisioned doing this alone, just the two of us, but I’m not waiting anymore. The way things look right now, this day will get away from us and tomorrow will be a write-off with the gala. Now is the only time to do this.

  “Marry me.” It isn’t a question and I now have their attention. I hold out the engagement ring and both women gasp.

  “What?” Paige lets go of one end of the floorplan, sending the paper curling into a cylinder and rolling right off the table.

  Nan clasps her hands together, beaming, and I take hold of Paige’s shaking hand, slowly slipping the ring onto her finger. She’s speechless, her deep-brown eyes questioning.

  Technically, I should wait for her to say yes, but I’m used to getting what I want. And Paige just needs a little time to let it all sink in. She’ll come to the same conclusion I have. We belong together.

  I've been thinking about proposing to her for days. No, more like weeks, and somewhere, somehow, our deal has become nonexistent. I still want my trust fund but what we have outshines our arrangement.

  “Paige, everyone is here.” Morgan bursts into the quiet office. “Oh, sorry, did I interrupt something?”

  “Darling.” Nan holds her hand out to my cousin, pulling her near and then she gasps, eyes now on the sparkling diamond on Paige’s ring finger.

  Paige remains stunned and silent.

  I had wanted just the two of us to share in this moment, but this feels right to have Nan and Morgan here. Paige needs to see I'm serious about spending the rest of my life with her and what better way to get that across than in front of those I love the dearest.

  “Oh my God! Congratulations.” Morgan pulls Paige into a tight embrace.

  Paige releases a nervous chuckle, but she’s nodding her head and water pools in her eyes. She gazes up at me, countless questions swimming in her features.

  Twenty-Eight

  Paige

  “Marry me.” Zach has my hand firmly in his grasp and the other slides into his pant pocket, producing a beautiful diamond ring.

  Suddenly my throat is dry and my heart slams against my rib cage, beating too fast. This can’t be happening. Zach isn’t proposing to me. There’s simply no explanation for it. Nan moves into my line of sight, her eyes glittering with delight, flicking from me to Zach and back. I’m reeling.

  Warm. Sweating. Dizzy.

  Then Morgan rushes in and we’re hugging. Zach smiles like an arrogant bastard, and Nan is glowing. I’m nauseous, choking on the excitement and joy coming at me from every direction. And all over a faux engagement.

  It can’t be real. Why did he propose? W
e hadn’t talked about this. I would have never agreed to a fake marriage. That had to be why he did it like this. Sprung it on me with an audience. I’d have no choice but to go along with him, unless I wanted a scene. There’s no way Morgan or Nan would have accepted anything but a ‘yes’.

  My insides are heavy, tight, and I’m crushed.

  I just stand there, nodding foolishly. Unable to push ‘no’ out of my mouth. Why? Because a silly, naïve part of me wishes this were real and true. Wishes he wants to marry me for me.

  I can’t deal with this right now. One thing that is real is the gala. And it isn’t going to just magically be ready for tomorrow. It’s the only thing that will help me get my head on straight. Work. There isn’t much time left and lots of work still to do in preparation for tomorrow. Much like our fake relationship, the engagement will have to come to an end, but for now, I’ll go with his charade and bury my confusion and anger until we’re alone.

  “Let's go.” I push past their expectant gazes toward the door, stopping to pick up the design plan.

  “Wait a sec.” Morgan yanks at my elbow. “We're going to be related. This is so amazing.”

  “Yes.” I swallow past the lump swelling in my throat.

  Zach’s eyes bore into me and I shoot him a tight-lipped smile, not able to look him in the eye. My insides are a bloody battlefield of emotions, bleeding and wounded from the end of whatever this is. Work is the only thing that will see me through today. Why did he have to do this?

  The timing sucks. Thanks, Zach.

  Tomorrow is the biggest day of my life. I put my heart and soul into the gala and it has to go off without a hitch. I can't be distracted by some silly proposal.

  The ring sits, snug and foreign, on my finger and I resist the urge to take it off. “Please, let’s get to work.”