The Lies I've Told

by J. L. Berg

  “Yeah, I think it is,” Cora finally said. “Who cares if it is a crazy time of the year?”

  “Exactly,” Millie said, raising her glass to the happy couple. “Love is crazy.”

  I turned to her, realizing I’d thought those exact same words about our relationship.

  “You couldn’t be more right, Millie McIntyre,” I said, holding up my glass to hers as our eyes met with a raw intensity. “Love is indeed a crazy adventure.”

  As our glasses touched, our mouths did the same, fusing together as beer sloshed down our hands. Neither of us cared because this was as close to a declaration of love as either of us had been brave enough to make.

  And didn’t that deserve its own toast and moment in the sun?

  The sun had begun its descent into the horizon, and the anticipation for the annual Ocracoke Independence Day fireworks celebration was palpable.

  “Come on,” Millie said, her eyes gleaming. “Let’s grab a blanket and spread it out on the grass.”

  I didn’t have a chance to agree before she darted inside and flew back out the patio door half a second later, a large plaid blanket in hand, ready for action.

  As she walked back toward me from the house, I took those moments to appreciate just how lucky I was. I’d come to this island, lost and alone, ready to give up on just about everything—my career, my future, and everything in between.

  Millie, this smart, sassy woman, had breathed life back into me, and I knew I wouldn’t have such a positive outlook on my prognosis if it wasn’t for her.

  “You’re looking awfully sappy, Aiden Fisher. What’s going on in that mind of yours?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she brought her hand to her forehead to block out the setting sun.

  I caught her smiling and couldn’t help but do the same.

  “What were you doing on this day last year?”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d asked, but she seemed to go with it all the same.

  “Hmm.” She handed me one side of the blanket while she kept the other. We raised it high in the air before neatly setting it on the grass below. “On the Fourth of July last year, I was in Paris, I think.”

  I raised my eyebrows as we both took a seat on the soft blanket. “That sounds horrible,” I joked.

  “Honestly? It was.” Her eyes flickered to her parents huddled together on their own blanket nearby, sipping wine and laughing, as we all waited for the show to begin. “I was in a hotel room with a serious case of jet lag, and outside of a few people I knew from work, I didn’t know anyone in the city. I remember sitting on that hotel bed, my hands running over the ridiculously high thread count sheets as I stared out at Paris. I should have been happy, you know? How many people get to live that life? But, in that moment, all I wanted to do was be in my childhood bed, roasting marshmallows like we had done when I was a kid.”

  “So, you much more prefer this over Paris?”

  She leaned back on her elbows and gazed up at the sky, a glorious array of pinks and yellows. “Definitely. But not just for the marshmallows.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve actually seen any.” I grinned.

  “Oh, just you wait. Have you ever even had a s’more?”

  I sort of shrugged. “There was this place in SoHo that had this dessert—”

  She sat up cross-legged and waved her hands. “No. Absolutely no. That doesn’t even remotely count. Unless it was made in the wilderness or in your own damn backyard, it is not truly a s’more.”

  “So many rules.”

  She laughed. “Yes. And here comes another one. You can’t watch fireworks without a drink in your hand.”

  I suspiciously eyed her. “That one sounds made up.”

  She shrugged. “You’ll never really know, will you? But can you make mine a rosé?”

  I leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “I think you’re full of rubbish.”

  “Pull that one out of the old English slang archives, did you?” She laughed, palming my cheek.

  “I did,” I answered with a wide grin. “But that one was rather tame. Most of what my brother and I threw around wasn’t exactly proper and usually revolved around sex.”

  She just stared.

  “I grew up with a bunch of boys. Do you really have to ask?”

  “That’s actually kind of interesting.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”

  “Sure it is,” she countered. “Who knows? Maybe I might need this information sometime in my life. How do you say balls in England?”

  I looked at her straight-faced and answered, “Balls.”

  Her head tilted to the side as she playfully hit my shoulder. “You know that’s not what I meant! Come on! I want to know some slang! Teach me!”

  “Nope,” I answered. “I promised you I’d go refill your drink before the fireworks, and I am a man who keeps his word.” I rose from my spot on our blanket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She looked up at me, her bottom lip protruding out, making her look ridiculous.

  I rolled my eyes before heading towards the drinks station but stopped myself mid-step. Turning back around, I found her in the same position.

  Same pitiful look.

  “Bollocks is the conventional slang you’ll hear often. But there is also the lesser knowns—nadgers, acorns and goolies. If you’re referring to the whole package though, you might want to go with John Thomas.”

  Millie’s high pitched laughter that followed behind me was infectious, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I went to retrieve our drinks. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the end of Millie’s British slang education.

  Not by a long shot.

  Reaching into the ice chest for the pink bottle of wine Millie loved, I poured a decent amount in her wine glass before grabbing a beer for myself. Just as I was about to return to our spot on the lawn, I saw Mr. McIntyre walking toward the drink area, two glasses in hand.

  Apparently fetching drinks for the women in the family was a lifelong obligation.

  I had two choices—either stay or make like a tree and leave, thereby delaying my second and most important introduction with Millie’s father as the new boyfriend. Only a coward would duck his head and run, and I didn’t want Mr. McIntyre thinking his daughter was dating a spineless jerk.

  “Mr. McIntyre,” I said, placing the drinks on the table beside me to offer my hand in greeting, “I know we haven’t been formally introduced…well, not since I—”

  “I know who you are,” he said, a pleasant smile on his face. He gave a nod to my outstretched hand but kept on toward the table with the task of refilling his drinks. “You’ll find I’m not nearly as formal as most other yahoos.”

  Yahoos? Is that even a word?

  “That’s good to hear. I’m not big on it myself.”

  He continued to pour his wine, and I smiled to myself, seeing Millie’s mother had an affinity for the same wine as her daughter.

  “Really?” Mr. McIntyre said. “I always thought the English were sticklers for propriety.”

  “Not when you were raised in the system.”

  He set down his glass and eyed me. “Foster kid, huh?”

  I simply nodded.

  “Is it much like it is here? Foster care, I mean.”

  I sort of shrugged. “I guess it depends on where you end up and with whom,” I said. “There are people who mean well and have their heart in it and those who don’t. Unfortunately, in the city where I grew up, I think the heartless outweighed those in it for the right reasons, and I wasn’t given the best upbringing, but at least I had brothers. Foster brothers. And that made it bearable.”

  He nodded silently to himself, thinking for a moment before replying, “Well, I don’t know much about that, but I do know what it’s like to grow up poor. Dirt poor. The only reason I was able to go to college was because I could throw a football. And thank God for that; otherwise, I wouldn’t have met her.” His eyes drifted to his wi
fe.

  “It all worked out,” I found myself saying, my own gaze finding Millie.

  He agreed, “It did, but there were days early on in our marriage where I would work myself to the bone, scared to death we’d run out of money—or worse, I’d fail the legacy her parents had given to us with this inn. I didn’t stop working, didn’t stop moving, until Molly took over a few years ago.” He chuckled under his breath. “I think I’ve spent more hours sleeping in these precious years of retirement than I have in my whole life.”

  I joined him in laughter.

  “I know the feeling,” I said. “I just earned my biggest payout on a show in my career.”

  “Will it hold you?” His voice held the concern of a father.

  “For a while,” I answered. “For a good long while.”

  Our eyes met and held.

  “And then? What’s your next move?”

  I knew where he was going, what he was asking.

  Are you going to leave Millie high and dry after this job finishes?

  What are your real intentions with my baby girl?

  This was my opportunity to put his doubts to rest.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Over the last few weeks, my priorities have shifted. My career is still important, but it’s no longer the primary focus in my life. Millie is. So, where I sculpt no longer matters as long as she is next to me.”

  His gaze narrowed, until, finally, a large hand rose up to my shoulder, pulling me into a welcoming hug. “That’s all I needed to hear. But, if you could talk her into staying here, I’d buy you a house as a wedding present,” he said in a low whisper, patting my back before stepping back.

  My eyes widened in shock.

  “Enjoy the fireworks,” he said before taking his wine and heading off toward the grass. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a thumbs-up.

  I followed his lead, grabbing the beer and wine off the table and walking back to Millie.

  “Looks like you and my dad were having a meaningful talk over there,” she said as I took a seat and handed over her rosé.

  “I’m pretty sure he offered to buy me a house.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Oh! The fireworks are starting!” She cuddled up to me, both of us ignoring the ridiculously humid temperatures as the first firework lit up the sky.

  “What were you doing on this day last year?” she asked.

  I thought back, trying to remember my Independence Day a year ago.

  “You’re smiling,” she said.

  “That’s because I just realized what I was doing at this moment one year ago.”

  “If you say banging another chick, I will literally end you right here.”

  I chuckled as the memory floated back in my mind. I could still feel the sweat dripping down my face as the sounds of fireworks had lit off in New York while I worked in my studio. “I was putting the finishing touches on the memorial.”

  “Our memorial?” she asked, looking up at me, her face aglow from the lights above.

  I nodded. “I chiseled the last part of the bird at the base just as the fireworks ended that night.”

  “Wow,” she said, her gaze turning upward. “I know this is horrible, but I’m really glad some asshat destroyed that thing.”

  A smile stretched all the way across my face as my chin rested on top of her head. “Yeah, me too.”

  Me, freaking, too.

  The sun had barely risen over the water when I rose the next morning, its golden rays sending glittery flecks of sunlight across the top of the water for miles. Millie still slept soundly next to me, a tribute to how thoroughly she’d enjoyed herself the day before. Usually, she was the one poking me in the ribs, calling me lazybones and telling me to wake up and grab a morning run with her.

  I savored this rare treat, watching her chest rise and fall and the peaceful way her mouth parted just ever so slightly as she dreamed. I silently chuckled to myself, wondering if her dreams were of giant dancing s’mores. God, that woman loved her junk food.

  I was going to have to learn how to hide some spinach in her food. That, or figure out how to make her love some sort of vegetable.

  Careful not to make a sound, I shifted out of the bed and made quick work of throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

  No need to scare any of the other guests by running around half-naked through the inn.

  Not that any of them were up.

  Grabbing my phone, I stepped out into the hallway and headed for the patio. The house was quiet, but the old floors creaked under my bare feet. Making my way across the parlor, I opened the door that led out to the large patio and stepped out, the heat blasting me in the face almost instantly.

  “Damn,” I muttered. “Starting early today.”

  Taking a seat in a chair nearby, I stretched my legs out in front of me and took a moment to appreciate the view. Beyond the patio, bright green grass spread out in front of me before giving way to sand.

  And then there was nothing but water as far as the eye could see.

  Millie called it a bay, but from where I was sitting, it might as well have been the whole damn ocean because the view seemed endless.

  I could have sat here all morning, staring at that view, but I’d come out here with a purpose. Pulling out my phone, I dialed a number and waited.

  “Do you know what fucking time it is?”

  I grinned. “Why yes, I do. Good morning.”

  “Jesus, why are you so bloody chipper?”

  “It’s the day after a holiday. Don’t people usually get those off?” I asked, leaning back in the chair.

  “What? No, not the Fourth. Those of us who aren’t temperamental artists actually have to go in and work today.”

  “Oh,” I said. Why didn’t I know that? “Well then, consider me your alarm clock.”

  James groaned. “My alarm clock was set to go off in an hour.”

  Pulling the phone away from me, I checked the time once more. “Really? An hour from now? Isn’t that kind of late? What kind of doctor are you?”

  “A tired one.”

  I let out a laugh.

  “Seriously, Aiden, what do you want?”

  I blew air out through my teeth. “Help,” I answered. “I’m ready to ask for help.” I looked out at the view before me, squinting more than I had a few weeks before, and I knew I needed it.

  A solid few seconds went by. “Are you serious?”

  “I am.”

  “What changed your mind?” he asked. I could hear him rustling. Obviously, he had decided to get out of bed after all.

  “You know what.”

  “So, you told her?”

  I swallowed hard, the blue water of the bay winking back at me. “No,” I replied.

  “What? Why?”

  “I…” I couldn’t find my words. No, that wasn’t true. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I was just ashamed to say it. “I just want to be me a little while longer,” I confessed.

  I could hear him sigh on the other end. “You’ll always be you, Aiden.”

  “No,” I argued. “Once I tell her, I’ll be different. I’ll never be this Aiden again. I’ll be a different version of myself. And, for now, I want to be uncomplicated Aiden—the guy I hope she is falling in love with.”

  “All right,” he relented.

  “So, you’ll help me?”

  “Of course I’ll help you! I’ve been trying to help you from the very beginning! It’s you who’s been avoiding—”

  “I get it,” I said, making him chuckle. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Why don’t you come home and—”

  I adamantly shook my head. “No.”

  “But, Aiden, I need to be able to examine you. To retest and see how much worse it’s gotten and then come up with a plan.”

  “Then, come here.”

  “To North Carolina?” He sounded incredulous.

  “Yes. Why not?”

&n
bsp; “Well, for starters—”

  “Can we figure it out? That’s all I need to know.”

  He breathed out a sigh of frustration. I could hear his wheels turning from here. “I guess I could figure something out. It might take me a few weeks though. Your case isn’t exactly textbook. If you were a fifty-year-old patient coming into my office, I’d know exactly what to do, but you’re not. You’re thirty-three, and this is—”

  “Rare. I get it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Yes, I can do it. I’ll research everything. I’ve already put some feelers out, trying to get in contact with a couple of colleagues who’ve had similar patients. But can I ask why? Why are you so intent on not coming home?”

  I paused for a moment, my gaze focused on the lawn and the sparkling water beyond. “Because this is my home now, James. With her.”

  “And when your brother shows up to help you out with this mystery medical problem you haven’t told her about?”

  “Let me handle that,” I said. “Just worry about your end.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  This time, it was me who chuckled, hearing my brother say the word that drove Millie crazy.

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t sound odd when you say it,” I said before hanging up on my clueless brother.

  I rose from the chair and slid my phone back in my pocket. With one last glance at the bay, I headed back toward my suite.

  To Millie.

  James had said it might take him a few weeks, which meant my time as this Aiden was limited.

  It always had been, but now, it felt real.

  I’d always known I’d eventually have to tell her, but knowing and doing were two very different things.

  And the closer I got to the reality of it, the more scared I became.

  “Is this your daily routine now?” My sister’s voice filled the parlor as her quick steps came up behind me.

  “Nice to see you, too,” I replied, leaning back in the plush sofa chair I’d repositioned to face the large glass windows that overlooked the backyard and bay. “What about you? Is this your daily routine? Showing up after breakfast to inspect Mom’s handling of things?”

  I glanced up to see her standing next to me, Ruby snuggling up to her chest in one of those infant carrier devices that always baffled me.