Lie to Me

by Preston, Natasha

  “Do you want to take it back?” she asks in a whisper.

  “Definitely not. I’ve fallen so in love with you, I can barely think straight.”

  Dropping her eyes, she puts her croissant down and then looks back up. Her grey eyes shine. “I love you, too, Kent.”

  Fuck me, I thought hearing those words before were everything. Coming from Savannah, it’s unexplainable. I take a breath, my chest caving.

  “Yeah, I know how you feel,” she breathes.

  “Tell me you don’t want to sit here and eat.” My heart feels like it’s going to break through my chest. It hurts in the best way possible.

  Slowly, she shakes her head. “Not hungry anymore.”

  Thank God for that because I can’t wait. I move the tray to my bedside table because fucking her on breakfast and scalding her with the coffee isn’t the mood I’m going for.

  When I twist back, she launches herself at me. I laugh as we hit the mattress, her body pressing into mine.

  Savannah and I spend the next two weeks in a loved-up haze of sex. It’s amazing.

  I pull up outside Toby’s house after dropping Savannah at work.

  I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I realized at the wedding that I loved her. Everything was so fucking perfect. She fit in with my family like she was supposed to be there, and my God, she looked so beautiful, it hurt. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and when we were dancing and those pretty grey eyes were staring back at me, I knew.

  She is everything.

  Since then, at every opportunity, she tells me she loves me. I’ll never tire of hearing her mutter those words or the way she looks at me while she’s saying them.

  “All right, mate,” Toby says as he opens the front door.

  “Hey, bud, I need a beer.”

  “It’s nine in the morning, Kent.”

  Lifting my eyebrow, I stop beside him on my way in.

  He raises his hands. “Yeah, I just heard myself, too. There’s plenty in the fridge.”

  I close Toby’s door and head to the kitchen. His place is huge, but he takes the term minimalist to a whole new level. See, Toby doesn’t like to tidy or clean, so he has nothing to personalise his house. It’s plain and empty, and he has a cleaner come twice a week. The lazy shit.

  Raiding his fridge, I grab two beers and pop the lids.

  “Thanks, man,” he says, taking a bottle from me. “So, it’s Savannah’s birthday this weekend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You get her something nice?”

  “Not yet. I have plenty of time.”

  “Three days. That’s not a lot of time.”

  “How many days does it take you to buy a present? You go to the shops, and you get something.”

  He lowers the bottle from his mouth. “Kent, you love this girl. You need to put more than two seconds’ thought into what you’re getting her.”

  So, he might have something here. Obviously, I know I need to get her a gift that’s thoughtful and, let’s face it, shiny, but I have no idea what. She wears white gold jewellery, but she has a lot of it.

  Would she want another piece?

  But what else could I get?

  For Freya, I just bought her the phone she was desperate for. The bitch was already stealing my money, so the expensive gift only added insult to the injury.

  Savannah deserves something more personal. I want to get her a present that will mean something, not end up on a scrap heap the following year.

  What the fuck is meaningful to women though?

  Toby laughs. “You’re worried now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, you arsehole! What the fuck am I going to get her?”

  He shrugs one shoulder and mutters around the neck of the bottle, “Just go to the jewellers.”

  “Isn’t that what everyone does though?”

  “You don’t think she wants jewellery?”

  “No, she likes it, but I want something different.”

  “Dildo?” He gasps. “Two-way dildo!”

  “Nah, they’re all smaller than me anyway.”

  Toby rolls his eyes. “You wish, bud. What are you doing for her birthday?”

  “We’re staying at my parents’ the night before, so she can experience a birthday breakfast cooked by my mum.”

  “She’s going to end up puking.”

  I nod. “Likely.” My mother goes all out for birthdays. “We’re doing the usual walk-and-pub lunch, and my mum was talking about a cocktail class or some shit like that.”

  He cocks his eyebrow. “After that?”

  “After that, I’m taking her home and doing all manner of naked things to her.”

  “Good boy.” He takes a sip, unspoken questions flashing past his eyes.

  “What, man?”

  Lowering the bottle, he says, “It’s going really well with her.”

  “Yeah,” I reply with an air of caution I’ve become accustomed to when Toby only gives half a story. Like when he called to tell me he was having a little trouble and needed to borrow some money. Turned out, the money he had to have immediately was to bail him out of jail after he got into a fight with his conquest’s husband.

  “Good.”

  “Spit it out, Toby. There’s more going on in there.” What’s he about to tell me? He’s seen Savannah with someone else? No. No way. She’s not like that. But, fuck, that was a shitty image to have.

  “Just checking in. Wasn’t easy to watch you so beat down after Freya stole all your money, and I have a feeling that, although Savannah wouldn’t steal from you, if she took off, you’d be worse.”

  “Yeah. It would be worse,” I confirm. It would be unbearable.

  Freya’s betrayal left me bitter and unable to trust anyone for a long time. I thought that was the worst thing anyone could do to me. Honestly, I would have preferred she cheated; it would have been easier to handle. But she took almost every penny I’d inherited; she took what I’d thought was my future. That money was supposed to set me up if I used it right, and as immature as I was back then, I intended to use the money wisely.

  Savannah wouldn’t steal my money or cheat—that much I’m sure of—but she could decide that she didn’t want me, and that would sting way worse than Freya being a robbing bitch.

  “You’re not worried about anything going wrong?”

  I swig. “Should I be? This is getting a bit weird now, mate.”

  “When you were just coming out of your lowest point, you made me promise to always make sure you kept a cool head where women were concerned. I think you’re hot.”

  “Don’t swing that way, sorry.”

  “Fucking hell, you know what I mean, Kent, you dickhead.”

  Chuckling, I sit down on his sofa. “I know what you mean, and I appreciate the talk, but I trust her. She’s different. I just wish she would let me in a bit more.”

  He sits down opposite me. “That doesn’t ring alarm bells?”

  “She’s cagey about her past, and she doesn’t like talking about it.”

  “There a story there?”

  “Well, I don’t think her parents are grifters, like Freya’s mum, but they weren’t there for her. She said she’s not spoken to them in years.”

  “You’re thinking she just doesn’t like talking about it because it’s painful?”

  “I can see the pain in her eyes whenever I bring it up.”

  “I get that,” he replies, closing his eyes and taking a long swig.

  “Sorry, man. You all right?”

  “Yeah.” He opens his eyes and gives me a ghost of a smile.

  Toby’s parents were always more interested in booze than him. His grandparents raised him most of the time. Maybe he would be a good person to talk to Savannah when she’s ready. As much as I want to be the one she opens up to, I just want her to be okay. Toby understands, whereas I don’t have a fucking clue because my parents are, thankfully, very much involved.

  Occasionally too involved.

  “As l
ong as everything is on the level and she’s not about to screw you over.”

  “She wouldn’t. She might be reserved, but she’s not a liar.”

  She’s not.

  27

  Savannah

  Kent and I have fallen into somewhat of a routine. We go to work, then one of us will head to the other’s apartment to spend the night. I don’t think we’ve spent more than two nights apart since Brooke’s wedding last month.

  It’s almost my birthday, and yesterday, Kent and I celebrated being together for three months. I do use the term celebrate pretty loosely since he had no idea, and I only realised late in the afternoon. Still, we then celebrated with dinner at that Mexican restaurant and then back to mine for a lot of sex.

  Being with him, even for just three short months, has been the best time of my life. I’m so comfortable with him. We have similar tastes in music and film, and we pretty much finish each other’s sentences. He doesn’t care if I can’t be bothered to put on makeup. He tells me how beautiful he thinks I am whether I have my face on or not.

  We arrive at his parents’ house mid-afternoon on Friday, ready to spend some birthday time with his family … who are kind of mine now, too.

  Heidi tried to give me the whole day off today, but I hate leaving her when we’re busy, so I worked until twelve. I don’t want to take advantage, and she’s already been really nice to me when Kent has made me late.

  He has been smiling like a moron the whole journey here, mostly due to torturing me over my birthday presents. He has them in the boot of his car and keeps taunting me with how awesome they are, but of course, I won’t know until tomorrow. I love seeing him with a big smile on his face and laughter in his voice even if it’s at my expense.

  Kent’s parents are out, but he still has a key, so we let ourselves in. I’ve not spent my birthday with humans in a few years, so I’m really looking forward to this weekend.

  So far, I haven’t received any emails from my parents, not that my dad would email anyway, or texts from Simon.

  My parents have emailed every birthday and Christmas, usually the night before, so I doubt they’ll miss it. It would be easier if they did though. A clean break is what we all need.

  I’m still waiting, still holding Simon off. I don’t know if he will eventually get the message and give up or if he’ll try again. Until I know for sure, I can’t completely relax.

  I follow Kent into the kitchen, and he heads straight for the kettle to make tea.

  “Want me to bring the bags in while you do that?” I ask, blinking innocently.

  He tilts his head. “Nice try. I’ll do it later.”

  Damn it.

  I’ve never been this impatient before, but actually, I’ve not had a birthday present since I left home. Well, Heidi bought me a bottle of wine last year, and I had only been working for her for a few weeks at the time. Before that I had nothing.

  I don’t really want or need anything materialistic, but it does feel nice to have someone make a bit of a fuss over me turning a year older. Strike that, it feels phenomenal.

  God, I really was lonely.

  Kent hands me a mug of tea, the handle pointed toward me so that I’m not the one getting burned. My heart swells. It’s little things like that, that make me so bloody happy.

  “Thanks. What time will your parents be back?”

  His eyes light up. “Why? Want me to make you scream?”

  “No, idiot, I was just wondering.”

  “Dad is working until five, and Mum is shopping with my nan.”

  “Is your nan coming here?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I hope so. She’s brilliant.”

  His lips purse. “Hmm.”

  We’re standing by the island in the kitchen, looking out the pane of glass. The garden is absolutely massive. So peaceful, so much greenery.

  “I love it here,” I say, gazing out at the scattering of trees lining their land.

  “When my parents are dead, we can have it.”

  My head snaps to him, and my mouth drops. What the hell was that?

  Tipping his head back, he laughs. “I’m kidding. We’ll have to split it with Brooke and Heidi, too.”

  “You’re a terrible son, Kent.”

  Grinning, he replies, “I know. So, would you really want to leave the city?”

  “If you had asked me a month ago, I would have told you never. But your childhood sounds amazing, and I love the space out here. Hmm … then again, I do love the fast pace of the city and being able to get takeaway at any hour. I don’t know; maybe I’ll have to split my time between a place in the city and one in the country.”

  “You want two houses? So, you are with me for my money.” He grins wider.

  “Well, it’s not for your wit,” I quip.

  Kent laughs. “You wound me, Savannah.”

  “You love it.”

  “Why are you with me?”

  “Fishing for compliments isn’t cool,” I retort.

  Smirking, he stalks toward me like I’m his prey. “You’re with me because I’m hot and hung like a fucking elephant, and I can get you off with my tongue in three seconds flat.”

  I lift my eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s actually the money thing.”

  His arms wrap around my waist and cage me against his chest. I’m not complaining. I put my tea down, place my palms on his chest and admire the solid muscles underneath his T-shirt.

  “Bollocks. You’re obsessed with me, and you were before you even knew I had money.”

  His lips touch the top of my head, and my heart leaps.

  Damn, he has me there. I couldn’t care less how much he has in the bank. He makes me feel safe, and he makes me want to open up even if I’ve not been brave enough to yet. But I’m closer. I want to open up, and soon, I will.

  I tightly held on to my heart since the day of the betrayal, and as scary as it was, I willingly handed it to Kent.

  “I’ll give you that … but I’m not obsessed.”

  Kent narrows his eyes. “Savannah, no lying.”

  He’s so intensely against anyone lying to another person. And I’m lying all the time.

  I press my thumb and finger across my lips, zipping them.

  “I’m obsessed with you, too. There, I have no problem admitting it,” he says.

  “Good boy. You know how I feel about you.”

  He tugs me against his chest. “I do, and I like it.”

  “I think I’ve changed my mind about the tea.”

  “Oh?”

  “Prosecco. Since it’s my birthday week and all.”

  His eyebrow lifts. “Birthday week?”

  “Yep.”

  Backing away, he kisses my head again and goes to the fridge where, as Judy informed me, there’s a lot of Prosecco. “You’re becoming high maintenance, I see. Not sure I signed up for that.”

  “You signed up for me, buddy, and that’s exactly what you’re getting.”

  He looks over his shoulder and gives me the widest grin. Yeah, I like it, too. I like that I’m feeling like my old self again; only this version of me is stronger. I know what I’m worth, and I won’t ever allow anyone to make me feel shitty about myself again.

  Every second I’m with him, I’m growing. Not literally—that would suck—but knowing someone could care about me and want to be with me means everything. Simon made me feel like I was worthless. I mean, he cheated on me with my sister, for fuck’s sake. But Kent has made me realise that I’m not.

  Having him want me for me and not just my body has made my confidence soar.

  Fuck Simon and fuck ever feeling like I’m not desirable again.

  No dozen cats for Savannah. Win.

  Kent opens the fridge and holy Prosecco. I only get a quick glimpse as he pulls a bottle out and shuts the door, but there is a lot in there, maybe twelve. Judy is either expecting more people over or she’s going to get everyone well and truly wasted tonight.

  Probably the latter s
ince it will just be Kent’s immediate family here.

  I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening than with the people who are very quickly becoming so important to me.

  “Here you go,” he says, stretching to hand me a very full glass.

  “Trying to get me drunk?”

  “Absolutely.” He rounds the island in the middle of the kitchen and stops right in front of me. “Now, what do you want to do?”

  “I’d like to go for a walk.”

  His nose scrunches up like I just suggested the worst idea known to man. “You want to what?”

  “Your parents live in such a beautiful area, and I’d like to see more of it. Besides, it’s my birthday.”

  Rolling his eyes, he sips his tea. “Right, of course.”

  “Cool. Let’s go.”

  “You’re taking the drink?” he asks as I walk back toward the front door.

  “Obviously. Come on, Kent.”

  It’s still warm outside. October is such a weird month. My birthday is either warm or cold, and this year, the decent weather has really been holding out. The mornings are getting sharper though, so it’s only a matter of time until autumn finally boots summer’s arse.

  Growing up, I remember always having a bouncy castle; only some years, it was outside, and others, it was in a hall my parents hired. They were good with that at least. I’ve often wondered over the past three years where they lost that unconditional part of their love for me. Or was it just a case of them loving Isla more than me? Not that it really matters anymore, I guess.

  Things are good with me now. I’m happier than I have ever been, so I don’t really need to keep obsessing over where everything went wrong or if I did anything … which I didn’t.

  Kent shuts the door, but he doesn’t lock it. The house is fairly central on the three acres, but I still find it weird, not locking the door. There’s no way I could do that in my apartment.

  He throws his arm over my shoulders, holding his tea in the other. I have my Prosecco in my hand.

  “It’s so peaceful out here,” I say as we head down toward the stream, which runs along the back of the property.