Page 2 of The Lie

“Hey, Riley,” I reply, forcing my voice to stay calm. “Did you forget you were supposed to come to the hospital today?”

There’s a pause. A long enough pause for my stomach to twist.

“About that ...” he says slowly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

My brow furrows. “What? Why not?”

He exhales, down the line, and that sinking feeling I have intensifies. “I just ... look, I’m not really into you like that, okay? And pretending to be your boyfriend feels weird.”

I straighten as heat rushes up my neck.

“I’m not into you either,” I snap. “Jesus, Riley, I thought I made that perfectly clear. This was never about us. It was about my grandmother and giving a dying old lady some peace. I only did this because I didn’t want her thinking I’d be completely alone when she …” I let the rest of my sentence die off because I’m not ready to admit the truth. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept that her time is almost up.

“Yeah, I know. I get that, but I don’t want to make this more complicated than it already is.”

“So, you’re not coming?”

“No,” he says quietly. “No, I’m not.”

I bite down on my lip as disappointment twists into anger. “Right,” I say coldly. “Thanks for having the decency to let me know you were bailing. I paid you fifty dollars to come today, you scumbag.”

“Fuck, Poppy, there’s no need to be a bitch about it.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You know what I don’t understand, Riley? Why agree to something if you never intended to follow through? You could’ve just said no from the start. My Nanna’s expecting you, and now I’m the one who looks like an idiot when you don’t show up.”

“Maybe don’t lie then.”

My jaw clenches. “It’s not a bad lie. I told you how distressed she is about dying and leaving me on my own.”

“A lie is a lie, no matter how much you try to justify it.”

“You know what? Forget it, you double-crossing douchebag. And you owe me fifty bucks.”

I end the call before I completely lose it. I still have to work with that dick, after all. I’m not even angry that Riley changed his mind. I’m angry he agreed in the first place, let me believe I’d solved this one problem, and then bailed when it mattered most.

For a moment, I just stand here, staring at my reflection in the black screen of my phone.

The boyfriend whose car supposedly broke down last time never existed. It was a stupid lie I told because I needed her to believe someone would be here for me after she’s gone. Someone to make sure I was okay.

The problem with lies is that they never stay small. One question leads to another. Then another. Before you know it, you’re inventing stories to support the first one.

When Nanna kept asking to meet him, I panicked. Riley seemed like the easiest solution. We work together, we’re around the same age, and fifty dollars didn’t seem like a ridiculous price to pay for half an hour of his time.

Clearly, I was wrong.

I shove my phone into my back pocket and scrub both hands over my face. What the hell am I supposed to tell her now? Do I say his car broke down again? Do I tell her we broke up? Or do I finally admit there never was a boyfriend in the first place?

None of those options feels right.

I tip my head back and let out a frustrated groan that echoes down the corridor. I need a minute. Time to pull myself together before I walk back into that room.

I push away from the wall as my mind scrambles for an excuse when movement catches my eye.

A man in an expensive charcoal suit is sitting several metres away on one of the plastic chairs lining the hallway. His forearms rest on his thighs, his hands loosely clasped together, and his attention is fixated on me.

My stomach drops. How long has he been sitting there? The sympathetic look on his handsome face tells me he’s heard every mortifying word.

Heat floods my cheeks. Great. As if being stood up and lying to my dying grandmother weren’t bad enough, I’ve now got an audience.