Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2)

by Carey Heywood

  Sell the house?

  Only the stragglers remain. Sydney is in the kitchen helping Gigi clean up. I’m doing my best to keep my dad from drinking himself sick. Turns out, after half a bottle of whiskey, he gets chatty. He hasn’t stopped talking once in the last half hour. Only a quarter of what he’s said has made any sense.

  “Sell the house?” I ask.

  He refills his glass. “I can’t stay here without her.” It’s slurred but I get him.

  “We can talk more about this later.”

  There’s a decent chance he won’t remember any of what he’s said tomorrow. Everything else, no matter how much he’d like to forget, he won’t.

  I won’t either.

  I won’t forget how hard it was to walk through the tears to get back to my seat. How the moment I sat down someone, I’m not sure who, from the row behind ours squeezed my shoulder.

  How I held on so tight to Sydney’s hand while I watched them lower my mom’s casket into the ground. How once I got back to my parents’ house, people kept coming up to me to say, “She’s in a better place,” or “Heaven gained another angel.”

  How I wanted to shake them and argue if she wanted to go to heaven, she wouldn’t have fought as hard as she did to stay here; that they don’t know what they’re talking about; that they think it’s comforting but it’s not.

  The only thing helping is the quiet strength Sydney gives. If she weren’t here, I’d probably be as drunk as my dad. In all the planning, in all the days leading up to her death, why hadn’t I thought about what I was going to do for my dad?

  We’ve both been on autopilot, checking one item off after another of her last wishes. He’s cried, yes. We both struggled with letting her go when it was time for them to take her away. Since then, he’s been a robot.

  Until now.

  Now he’s breaking and I haven’t the first clue what to do for him.

  There’s a warm hand on my shoulder, so familiar I realize it’s the same hand from the cemetery. I look back and see it’s Mr. Fairlane.

  “Heath, do me a favor and see if the ladies need a hand,” he mutters, his eyes on my dad.

  I look back at Dad and he shrugs, not a dismissal but not a request for me to stay. When I stand, Mr. Fairlane takes my seat.

  When I reach the kitchen, I see Sydney standing next to the sink, drying dishes as Gigi passes them to her. I move to her, not quiet about my approach, and circle her waist with my arms. With her back snug to my front, I press my face into her hair, inhaling the fruity scent I’ve come to miss whenever we’re apart.

  “How are you doing?” she asks, setting a plate and the dish towel down so she can cover my arms with hers.

  “Better now,” I reply.

  “Is Pops talking to your dad?” Gigi asks.

  I turn my face toward her and nod. “Told me to come in here and see if you needed help.”

  She shakes her head. “I told you the first time you asked we had it covered. That was his way of getting rid of you.”

  “I figured,” I reply.

  “How’s your dad?” Sydney asks, giving my arm a squeeze.

  “Not good.”

  Gigi dries her hands and then motions for us to sit at the table. “Your dad has been in caretaker mode for a long time.”

  “I think he wants to sell the house,” I say, sinking down into a chair.

  “You sound surprised,” she replies, sitting in the chair across from me.

  When I don’t say anything, she keeps going, “Did you think he’d want to stay in this big ‘ole house all by himself?”

  I frown. “Not when you put it like that.”

  “We’ll help, honey. Best thing to do for your dad is just be there for him.”

  Sydney reaches out to rest her hand on my thigh. “And I’ll be here for you.”

  I cover her hand with mine.

  “We’re going to take Tom home with us tonight.”

  Gigi, Sydney, and I, all look to the doorway. Mr. Fairlane is standing there, his eyes on me.

  Gigi stands, and smooths her skirt down. “Should I go upstairs and pack him a bag?”

  His brows knit together. “I hadn’t thought about that but it’d most likely be a good idea.”

  She moves to him, pausing to press a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. “That’s why we make such a good team.”

  Before she can get past him, he sweetly touches his mouth to hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  My gaze moves from them to Sydney. Her attention is still fully on her grandparents, her expression soft. It comes back to me, my earlier thought of how beautiful she is. Yes, it’s partly her physical appearance that will always make me attracted to her. There’s more though; it’s who she is, how she loves, and her compassion that take her natural beauty and make it so much more.

  It’s happening now in the expression on her face as she watches a tender moment between two people she loves. What’s important is this is how she also looks at me. This was also, in brief moments here and there, how she looked at me before I hurt her. It’s up to me to make sure that this will be how she looks at me forever.

  That’s all there is. That’s what Mr. Fairlane and Gigi have and it’s what my mom and dad had. It’s why he’s so crushed now. There’s a risk in someone else mattering that much. My dad is broken in a way I’m not sure will ever be fixed. Still, I am absolutely certain he would still risk it all for the time they had together.

  I lift her hand to my lips. “I’m going to do a quick walkthrough. Then we can all head out together.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she says, standing as I rise.

  It doesn’t take long to walk through almost all of the rooms on the first floor and check to see that the back and side doors are locked. Dreading the den, it’s the room we head into last.

  The hospital bed is gone. It was taken away the day after she died. The negative space it once existed in is cavernous. This is where she died. This room will never be the place we played board games and watched movies in. Once it became her room, it’s identity permanently changed. As attached as I am to this house, and as much as my dad’s declaration to sell it threw me, I get it now.

  If it’s hard for me to even walk into this room, what must it be like for him? He can’t live here, not like this.

  “Heath?”

  I tip my chin down and meet Sydney’s eyes. “Hey.”

  She lets go of my hand and wraps her arms around my middle before pressing her cheek to my chest. No words, just support. Encircling her in my arms, I rest my cheek on the top of her head. With her, suddenly being in this room doesn’t sting as much as it did a moment ago.

  “We’re heading out,” Gigi murmurs from the doorway.

  I let Sydney go but not fully, tucking her to my side so we can walk together. “We’re right behind you.”

  My dad is standing by the already open front door with Mr. Fairlane. His shoulders are slumped, his face down, eyes on his shoes.

  Watching my mom die was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Now, watching my dad fall apart and not having the first idea of what to do about it is the second.

  I close the distance between us and let Sydney go so I can hug Dad. “I love you.”

  His breath hitches and he hugs me back. “Son.”

  Staring ahead, my vision is marred by the wetness that fills my eyes. I blink it back, give him an extra squeeze, and then step back. Sydney’s hand claims mine.

  We’re quiet on the drive back to my place. My silence is reflective, hers to give me mental space.

  Even though my house was empty of people when we left, the earlier crowded feeling had stuck with me. Now, walking into my cold and dark apartment, I’m even more grateful for the warmth and light Sydney exudes.

  Her friend Cecil wasn’t here the night my mom died. He came back the day after but, given what was going on, he didn’t want to intrude. He stayed an extra day with a girl who works at Lola’s and then had to go back to
San Francisco. At the time, I had argued he could stay.

  Now, I’m relieved it’s only Sydney and me here. Before I royally screwed things up with her, I was overly concerned with appearances. It was my way of trying to make life better for my mom. She had it rough enough as it was so I tried to be perfect for her to have one less thing to worry about. I tried like hell not to make mistakes and then hid the ones I did make. It was exhausting.

  Sydney changed all of that for me. In my quest for perfection, I almost lost her. That was the wake up I needed to stop living my life for other people and to start living it for myself. Now, when the pain of losing my mom is still so raw, there isn’t anyone else in the world I’d want by my side.

  She leads me through my dark apartment, already so comfortable in my space. It isn’t mine anymore; it’s ours. She ignores the light switches as she goes, taking me right back to our bedroom.

  Quietly, in the dark she undresses me. This is different, not that she’s never undressed me before. No, we’ve undressed each other. I lift my hands to the zipper of her black dress but she pushes them away. They fall to hang by my sides. My tie is gone, dropped by her slender fingers onto the floor. One button after another, my shirt comes undone. She lifts my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles as she unbuttons my cuffs. Her fingers push under the fabric then continue to push it up, over, and off my shoulders. It falls to the floor behind me.

  My undershirt is tugged from my pants and I lift my arms as she pulls it up and over my head. It too falls to the floor, this time beside us. She presses her lips to my chest, her fingers pulling my belt free. The button comes next, the zipper lowered after it. She crouches down, now untying my black dress shoes.

  I don’t fight her.

  When she moves to lift my foot, I do it for her. She slides off my shoes and then my socks. Looking up at me, she reaches for my slacks and gently tugs them down my legs. Still crouched in front of me, she pulls my boxers down. I’m not hard. The way she undresses me isn’t sexual. She presses her cheek to my thigh and hugs my legs before standing.

  Again my hands reach for her zipper but she pushes them away. I stand in front of her and watch as she lowers the zipper of her dress. With a shrug of her shoulders, it falls forward, opening for her to peel it from her body. She steps out of it and stands before me in one booted foot, one flat black slipper, and her underwear. Reaching behind, she unclasps her bra. The straps slide down her arms before she lets it fall to the floor.

  She steps out of her slipper and bends forward to undo the Velcro straps of her boot next before stepping out of it as well. Then she eases her panties over her hips until they fall to the floor with the rest of our clothes.

  Taking my hand, she leads me to the bed, pulling back the covers and then crawling in beside me. She tugs the covers up and over us before wrapping me in her arms.

  “You can let go now,” she whispers.

  As if a dam bursts, I crumple, clutching her to me. I let all the pain I’ve been burying within me out.

  To see someone so big and so strong fall apart was heartbreaking. I cried with him.

  It was wrong of me to assume that the strain he was under would go away once his mother passed. It didn’t. It only changed to concern for the mental wellbeing of his dad, combined with his own grief.

  Since his mom was sick for so long, people around him only see her death as a blessing, as an end to the physical suffering she endured for so long. It’s all she was to them, and before I fell in love with Heath, to me.

  None of us were there for the booboos she kissed or the bedtime stories she read. Sick or not, she was his mother, a bond even illness does not erase.

  Putting myself in his shoes, I’ve tried to be for him what I would want the person I loved to be for me. We haven’t discussed the night of her funeral. If and when he wants to talk about it, I’ll be here for him. Right now, he’s more focused on his dad than himself. He’s spent years being a partial caregiver to his mom, now that attention is focused on his dad.

  Mr. Mackey stayed with my grandparents the night of the funeral, and the night after it as well. Today he’s meeting with Heath and a realtor to list their house.

  I’m at Lola’s working on our weekly order. He’s going to call me when he’s on his way back to his place. Then he’s packing up some stuff to come stay with me at mine. His dad is going to take over his apartment until his house sells and until he’s able to find a new place. As great as the house is, Heath doesn’t think it will take long to sell.

  When I told him I would be staying at my place, he tried to talk me out of it. He did not succeed. Then I tried to talk him into staying with his dad so he could be supportive. I did not succeed. He was pretty clear he’s certain he can be supportive of his dad while sleeping at my place. I couldn’t come up with an argument against that.

  Besides, I want him with me.

  It’s strange how much has changed for the both of us. We haven’t used the words boyfriend or girlfriend. It’s like we jumped past that into something more serious than either of those terms. We live together. Sure while I was staying with him my mailing address was still technically Lola’s and he isn’t changing his address while he’s staying with me. All that aside, there is no question that when we go to sleep at night, it will be together. There’s also no question that our plans for the future now include each other.

  There’s a knock on the side of the office door and I look up to see Clarey leaning there.

  “Hey, Clarey,” I greet.

  Her eyes move to the computer screen than back to me. “Are you busy?”

  I shake my head and ask. “Someone covering your section?”

  When she nods, I gesture for her to sit down. “What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if I could rearrange my schedule for next week?”

  I click the mouse a few times to pull up the schedule. “What days do you need to change?”

  Clarey isn’t full time, but she’s still scheduled three days next week.

  “If I can, I’d like to trade my Thursday with Alex for her Wednesday and then see if I can get someone to take my Friday.”

  I lean back in my chair. “Have you already talked to Alex?”

  She nods. “Yep, she’s on board with switching.”

  “That works for me. I can cover your Friday since I won’t need to wear my boot anymore by then.”

  “Really?” She grins huge through her question.

  I shrug. “Of course. I need to get my butt back out there so you’re doing me a favor.”

  “Thank you so much, Sydney.”

  I wave her off. “It’s no big deal. Just make sure to update the schedule on the door.”

  She stands, still smiling and nods.

  “Are you doing anything fun those days?”

  Pulling a pen out from her apron, she makes the changes on to the sheet pinned to the door. “Yep, I’m going up to visit Cecil.”

  Leaning toward her, I excitedly say, “No way. That’s awesome.”

  She sinks back down into the chair. “I really like him.”

  “He wouldn’t have invited you up if he didn’t feel the same way,” I reply, my smile as full as hers.

  Her smile falters a bit. “He didn’t invite me. I’m surprising him.”

  Oh no.

  Cecil hates, and I mean hates surprises.

  I can’t help it. I cringe. “Are you sure about this?”

  She bobs her head decidedly. “Positive.”

  I reach out to cover her hand with mine. “I’m not going to ruin your surprise so I promise not to say anything to him but I’ve known Cecil a long time, and I’m telling you as a friend, you should text him or call him to let him know you’re coming.”

  Her mouth tightens. “Do you think he’s already seeing someone else?”

  I shake my head emphatically. “No, I do not and I do know he likes you.”

  She grins at this so I go on, “I also know surprises are not his thing.”
>
  She considers this, pausing before replying, “I’ll call him first.”

  Oh thank God.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Once she’s gone, I have to stop myself from texting Cecil. I also cross my fingers and toes she wasn’t joking when she said she’d call him.

  I update the electronic schedule and finish placing this week’s order. Then I glare down at my booted foot. Only four more days to go. It’s not like I have plans to run a marathon or anything. I’m just so sick and tired of wearing it.

  With a sigh, I stand and make my way past the kitchen to the entrance to the seating area.

  Gigi walks over as I slide onto a stool. “Order done and I’m taking Clarey’s shift this Friday.”

  She frowns. “Will you be okay that long on your feet?” Says the woman who was supposed to retire months ago.

  “I can stop wearing my boot on Thursday. I’ll wear my most supportive shoes and take breaks to put my foot up if it starts bothering me.”

  She rests a hand on the top of the counter and leans toward me. “No, what you’ll do is call me and I’ll come relieve you.”

  “Gigi,” I argue.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

  Lifting my eyes to the ceiling, I thank heaven that my mother lives on the east coast. I love her and I love seeing her but if she was here hovering over me as well, I’d lose my mind. I take a moment to choose to be grateful my Gigi loves me the way she does, instead of being annoyed by it. “All right.”

  She grins like she didn’t already know I would cave. “Are you hungry?”

  My phone lights up with an incoming text from Heath letting me know he was on the way. “I’m going to wait for Heath,” I reply.

  She gives me a small smile. “All right, honey.”

  A few minutes later, at the chime of the door, I swivel on my stool and watch Heath walk in.

  It still hits me how beautiful he is. He worked a half day before meeting with his dad so he’s still wearing his suit for work. Watching him undress is like opening a Christmas present.

  He comes right to me and presses his lips to mine. “Hey, baby.”

  As he sits on the stool next to mine, I ask, “How’d it go with your dad?”