The Complete Truth Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  His eyes popped open, the sweetest mixture of surprise and relief swirling within. His mouth split into a giant smile that had to have belonged to Shane because I’d never seen one that big in Penn’s repertoire of lip twitches.

  In one swift movement, he folded his arm around my waist, crushing me against his chest, and then lifted me off my feet. I laughed as coffee sloshed everywhere. And then I laughed harder as I dangled in his arms while he carried me to the kitchen, rumbling, “Woman, I’ve got a microwave. I can keep that thing warm for the rest of your life.”

  While scrambling egg whites and frying bacon, Penn started at the beginning—Lisa. Where they’d met. How long they’d dated. It made me a masochist considering she had been the wife of the man I was in love with, but she was also Lexy. Part of me rejoiced in the knowledge that, regardless of how it had ended, her life had been beautiful. He told me all about her sneaking into my room and planting that hidden camera in my stars. I was shocked—and felt a little violated to be honest. I mean, really, who did that? But the way Penn seemed lighter with every detail he divulged made it impossible for me to harp on it. I’d never seen him talk so much or so fast—even through the painful stuff.

  Some fun facts I learned:

  Penn had gone to MIT—like holy shit, the real MIT.

  According to his diploma, he was an architect. Blink. Blink. Blink.

  According to his bank account, he was something of a real estate mogul. The only mogul status I’d ever gotten close to was in the field of bed bug extermination.

  He still owned the oceanfront house he’d shared with Lisa in Florida, which was kind of sad and a lot intimidating.

  He had paid a guy hundreds of thousands of dollars to buy the identity Penn Walker. Considering he’d paid me a million dollars to escape it, I thought he’d gotten a pretty good deal.

  I’d gone into that conversation desperate to learn who he was, but I wasn’t ready for the answer.

  His favorite color was, in fact, still blue.

  But that was where the similarities ended.

  However, with a breaking heart and a forced smile, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and kept listening.

  After we’d covered all things Lisa, he started telling me about our first few weeks together. It was crazy to hear my memories from someone else’s perspective. Some parts were funny. Like when he told me how he’d dropped the first batch of Maury Poppins cupcakes and had to drive all the way back to the bakery to get more.

  Other parts were mortifying. If there hadn’t been bacon involved, I’d have crawled under the bar when he started listing all the times he’d caught me staring at him. Apparently, I wasn’t nearly as smooth as I’d thought.

  And then I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest—and not because I was on my third cup of coffee—when he told me why he never touched my star necklace.

  “Every moment with you felt like a reprieve. When I looked at you, when I touched you, when you touched me. Guilt wasn’t devouring me. Failure wasn’t consuming me. Hate wasn’t suffocating me. And on the off chance that you felt the same, I wanted to give that back to you. I’ll never be able to forget Lisa, and I don’t expect you to forget Nic. But I didn’t want to remind you of him. And the minute I touched that necklace, your mind would have jumped to the loss, the pain, and the past. I wanted you with me in the present, where I could protect you from all of that.” He’d paused, spatula in hand, one side of his mouth curling adorably, and then finished with, “And only about point zero zero zero zero five percent of that had anything to do with me being jealous that he got to you first.”

  I laughed and threw a piece of bacon at him. (It was a burnt bit. I wasn’t a total animal.)

  To which I reminded him I was younger than Savannah when I’d met Nic.

  To which he scrubbed his face so hard that it looked like he was giving himself a facial.

  After we covered all the “how we got here” basics, Penn gave me his backstory.

  He was an only child who had come from money and grown up in private schools.

  His mother had died of cancer. His father of a stroke a few years later.

  He loved to ski—water and snow.

  He knew enough Spanish to get by.

  He’d traveled to six out of the seven continents.

  And I was still me.

  Cora Guerrero. Single mother, felon, and all-around dreg of society.

  I didn’t want to feel it. Not with him. But the inadequacy was shrieking inside me with his every word spoken.

  Penn had left me for a reason. He’d claimed that it was to keep me out of the line of fire. Protection, safety, blah blah blah. But after hearing all of his stories about the past, learning who Shane Pennington really was, while sitting in his fancy apartment, staring at the gorgeous and successful man, I had to remind myself that Penn had never intended to stay with me.

  And that wasn’t a woe-is-me fiesta. It was the truth. He’d said so himself.

  Don’t get me wrong. I was a real catch. Maybe not when I had two men controlling my life and a building full of working girls depending on me twenty-four-seven—that was a teensy bit of baggage. But I was a good person. I was kind and smart and funny. I had a great ass and quasi-perky boobs, even. But a man like the one in front of me was from a completely different ocean.

  He hadn’t meant to fall in love with me. His words. Not mine.

  And he wouldn’t stay in love with me, either. My words. Not his.

  In a lot of ways, that realization cut me like the sharpest knife.

  But, in others, it set me free, my anger and frustration at his betrayal ebbing into nothingness.

  The truth sucked.

  But it was a lot like knowing that someone was lying to you. You didn’t have the expectation that anything they said would actually come to fruition. And because there was no expectation of truth, there could be no pain caused by the lie.

  As much as I hated to admit it:

  Shane was the truth.

  And my Penn—the most incredible man I’d ever met—was the lie.

  I couldn’t fault him. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t even be mad at him anymore.

  In his infamous words from all those weeks earlier, not all lies were bad.

  The one tall, dark, and breathtaking one standing across the kitchen was actually pretty amazing.

  And in my world, you held on to any good you could find.

  Even if it killed you.

  I could pretend.

  It wasn’t the same, but he was the closest thing to Penn I could ever get.

  I could accept this new guy.

  Embrace him for however long he decided to stick around.

  It was a lie. But I knew it and could prepare for it.

  And maybe I’d be ready for it to end when the time came.

  I could use him like he’d used me.

  Anything was better than the pain of accepting that he was truly gone.

  Or so I told myself—for, oh, about sixty seconds.

  Penn

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as her face paled.

  She smiled—bright, wide, and fake. “Nothing, why?”

  “You’re looking at me like your boyfriend just walked in and you’re trying to play it cool so he hopefully won’t notice you, all the while trying to force yourself to focus on me so I won’t notice you’re watching another guy, either.”

  She blinked, and the pressure in my chest eased when her face lit in genuine amusement. “Wow, that was strangely specific and yet made no sense.”

  I laughed. “CliffsNotes: You look uncomfortable and ready to bolt.”

  She turned on the stool. “I’m not uncomfortable. This has been a good chat. It really helped shed some light on what’s been going on between us for the last few months.”

  It didn’t sound good. And I’d noticed that she hadn’t denied the “ready to bolt” part.

  My suspicions were proven correct when she rose from her stoo
l, stating, “I need to take a shower.”

  My gut twisted.

  Shit. Maybe I’d told her too much about Lisa. Nobody wanted to hear about the ex. But she’d seemed interested and even smiled a few times during those parts. I pillaged through my memories, trying to pinpoint the moment she’d started to fade. Hell, maybe she was tired. God knew neither of us had slept. And then I remembered the half a pot of coffee she’d downed. She’d be lucky if she was tired again this time next week.

  I cussed under my breath as she started down the hall. Shoving off the counter, I followed after her. “Cora, please.”

  She made eyes at me over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  My back shot straight, my bones turned to stone, and I froze mid-step.

  And, kiddos, that’s the story of how I became a sculpture.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  She smiled—brighter, wider, and faker. “Nobody’s awake yet. I noticed there was a shower in the hall bath. It might be our only shot.”

  Everything below the belt responded with an Oh, hell yeah. Above the belt was a little more cautious. “Our only shot at what?”

  She twisted her lips. “Don’t play coy with me, Shane.”

  She might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water at me. “Don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name. I feel stupid calling you Penn.” She tipped her head to the side like a cherub, but I knew Cora.

  Something was happening in her head. It was ugly and dirty, and I wanted nothing to do with it.

  But most of all, I wanted her to have nothing to do with it, either.

  “My last name is Pennington, Cora. People have called me Penn since high school. And you’ve called me Penn since the day you met me. No sense in stopping now.”

  It was a simple, honest statement. When Drew and I had decided to go in search of Lisa’s killer, we’d thought the best plan of action was for me not to walk in with the name of her next of kin. Penn was the logical choice.

  But something about my correcting her had lit her on fire.

  Her eyes flashed wide, and I could see it burrowing to the surface. I didn’t know what it was or when it was going to break free, but it was coming and it was going to be huge.

  “No sense in stopping now,” she mumbled to herself.

  “Nope,” I replied.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No sense, huh? None. Not at all.”

  I mirrored her position, spreading my legs shoulder-width apart, bracing for impact. “Nada.”

  Her shoulders squared and her neck strained. Swear to God, I think her face vibrated for a second, and then all of a sudden, the ticking time bomb inside her detonated. “It’s your fucking name! You are not Penn Walker. You are not my boyfriend. You are nothing but a fraud.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.

  This was not how that conversation was supposed to end. The shower, absolutely. But not with her breaking down again. I’d only had her back not even a day, and she’d spent the majority of it crying. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all.

  But fuck that. She was mine.

  Shane.

  Penn.

  Whoever I became in the next life. Cora was always mine.

  My anger erupted as well. “How am I a fraud?”

  “Oh, let me count the ways. Skiing, MIT…” She opened her arms wide and spun in a circle. “This place. My Penn was content sitting on a ratty couch with me. My Penn spent roughly nine percent of his weekly income on cupcakes for me and my girls. My Penn wore tattered jeans and boots.”

  I made a show of looking down at my workout clothes. “This is hardly a suit.”

  “How much did those shorts cost, Shane?”

  “Stop fucking calling me Shane.”

  “It’s your name! If you want me to accept this new you, then you have to accept it too.”

  I sucked in what I hoped would be a calming breath. It wasn’t. Not in the least. If anything, those few seconds gave me a pause to think. “So let me get this straight. You’re pissed that I have a hobby, a college degree, and money?”

  “I’m pissed because the last few months have been nothing but a ruse, and I fell in love with a man who doesn’t exist.”

  I planted my hands on my hips and then whispered ominously, “Oh, I exist, Cora.” I took a long step toward her, fully expecting her to back away, but she held her ground. And with a few more strides, I made it my ground too. With one hand, I found her hip. The other went to the back of her neck, tipping her head to force her gaze to meet mine.

  My frustration ebbed as I took in her pink and tear-stained cheeks, but the moment those life-altering blue eyes of hers landed on mine, she robbed me of all anger.

  Sliding my hand around to cup her cheek, I used my thumb to clear the dampness beneath her eyes. “I know I exist because for the four years before I met you and for the weeks since I lost you, I didn’t want to. My sole purpose for the last few years has been to make Thomas pay for what he did to Lisa—even before I knew who he was. I breathed because I had to. My heart beat because it had to. I put food in my body because I had to. But it was all just a means to an end. And then I met you. Cora, baby, one minute in that tiny-ass bathroom with you and I more than existed. I was alive again.”

  I didn’t wait. I didn’t ask for permission. I just kissed her.

  Hard and long. Slow and reverent.

  My mouth didn’t open.

  And neither did hers.

  But it was by far the deepest kiss I’d ever offered her.

  It was filled with apology.

  Hope.

  Gratitude.

  Regret.

  It was words unspoken.

  Lies unraveled.

  Lost and found.

  I kissed Cora with the truth—all of it—for the very first time.

  She pulled away first, but she didn’t go far.

  “Penn,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes again.

  Relief flooded my veins. “I’m right here.” I caught her wrist and guided her hand up to rest over my heart. “It’s me. It’s still me.”

  “I want to go home,” she cried. “Something has to make sense again. I just want to go home.”

  I’d pushed her too hard. Too fast. Too much. She’d asked for time, but I’d been so hell-bent on getting her back that I hadn’t properly considered the emotional and physical toll all of this would take on her.

  Lies were light and fluffy. Made to order. Easy to digest. Impossible to hold on to.

  But the truth was dense. A boulder made of magnets, the Earth being the north to its south. The truth could crush a person with nothing more than reality.

  And right then, as she face-planted into my chest, it was crushing us both.

  Movement caught my eyes, pulling my attention up. Our little altercation had drawn a crowd. Drew, Savannah, River, Isabel, and Catalina were all standing in the hall, concern blazing in their eyes.

  I looked at Drew first. “I need the bedroom.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Go for it,” he said, stepping out of the way.

  She wanted Penn. She wanted comfort. She wanted something to feel normal again.

  I could do that.

  “Close your eyes,” I whispered.

  When she didn’t object, I put an arm at the back of her legs and lifted her off her feet.

  River’s eyes were wide as I carried her broken mother toward my bedroom.

  “It’s okay,” I mouthed to her.

  She nodded, unconvinced.

  Just before I shut the bedroom door, Savannah—God bless that kid—grabbed her arm and chirped, “I smell bacon. Let’s go check it out.”

  When the door clicked, I set Cora onto her feet and kissed her forehead. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

  After shoving the nightstand and the armchair into a corner, I snatched all the blankets off the bed and then dragged the mattress onto the floor. On my way to the linen closet in the bathroom, I pulled the curtains tight, blocking out as m
uch of the early morning sun as I could. I didn’t have a quilt like the one Cora had used on her bed, but there was a thin blanket that would be close enough.

  I spread it out on the mattress and then sank to my knees. “I don’t have stars. But I’m here, Cora. We’re here. Me and you.”

  She opened her eyes, chin quivering as she attempted a smile. “Penn.”

  Soft as a feather, that one syllable swept over me.

  “C’mere, Cor.”

  The next beat, she was in my arms, her face buried in my neck.

  I juggled her into our talking position: me on my back, her head resting on my shoulder, her thigh draped across my hips, her hand resting on my stomach.

  And only then did I exhale.

  This whole blast from the past was supposed to be for her. But the soft floral scent of her shampoo filled my senses and carried me back to her apartment too. My body sagged, truly relaxing for the first time in weeks.

  “Truth or lie?” I murmured against the top of her head.

  “I don’t want to play anymore.”

  “Fine. Then listen to me play. I told you all that stuff in the kitchen because I thought you wanted me to tell you about the man I used to be. I was trying to be as honest as possible, not leaving anything out. But, clearly, I left out the parts you needed to hear most. The parts where I’ve always been Penn. And I always will be.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “That’s bullshit. Penn wouldn’t ski.”

  Yes. That’s what she said.

  She was having a nervous breakdown because I liked to ski.

  It made me an asshole, but I laughed. “Yeah, he fucking would, Cora. He’d rent a cabin with his best friend, Drew. Get sloshed on whiskey, lose a bet, go down the bunny slope on a sled in nothing but his underwear, and then wake up the next morning to ride the lift to the highest run, hoping to catch an adrenaline high on the way down.”

  Her head snapped up like I’d offended her. “Oh my God, Shane wears underwear?”

  I laughed again, even when I felt her shooting daggers at me with her eyes. “Shane was twenty-four in that story. His mother lived around the corner and still did his laundry twice a week. Trust me, if you had to listen to my mom talk about the scrotal benefits of men wearing underwear each time she didn’t find any in the hamper, you’d put them on too.”