Page 212 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Nash
I ran to my room and printed the shirt.
Who are we to defy the universe?
It felt like wearing Nash.
Chantilly left with Cayden, Ida Marie, and Hannah to do an interview with an architectural magazine about the hotel’s upcoming soft opening. Nash spent the morning with Delilah, schmoozing a local politician at an MLB game.
He entered the office around noon, sporting dark denim, a white Henley, and a baseball cap. When he caught me eating the sandwich he’d made, in the shirt he’d come up with, he leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms, and watched.
Self-satisfied and so damn cocky.
I popped the last bite into my mouth, incisors crunching on the Ruffles. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Will you trust that I have my reasons?”
“Yes, you want Gideon to tell me.”
“The fact that you’re calling him Gideon and not Dad is exactly my point.”
Actually, I always called him Dad to his face and mostly called him Dad in my head. In fact, I only used Gideon with Nash because I feared the unknown. So far, I understood the motivations behind everything Dad had recounted.
He stayed in a loveless marriage with Virginia, so he could keep me.
He made Balthazar partner, so he could keep me.
He didn’t turn them in, so he could keep me.
Understandable.
But what if the day came when he confessed he or Nash did something so bad, I could never forgive them? Or worse—I forgave them, because I wanted them both in my life that much.
I wrote my note in front of him and slapped it to his chest.
Nope.
Emery
P.S. The only cheeses I like are white cheddar and string cheese eaten correctly (re: peeled).
A few days later, Nash arrived late to take me to Dad’s, which meant I’d walked to the bus stop, boarded, and watched him trail the bus until the next stop. I hopped down and ambled toward him.
“I got held up at the mechanic’s.” Nash raked his fingers through his hair. Once. “You could have waited. I doubt Gideon would care if you showed up late.”
He leaned against his car, arms crossed. He had replaced the roof. Through the windows, I noticed the leather chairs appeared reupholstered. All evidence of our night baltering… gone.
Pain lashed at my stomach. Ridiculous, but also proof I cared.
“Actually, I waited and texted you.” I opened my Jana Sport. “When I didn’t get a response, I left. Couldn’t risk it.”
I retrieved my sketchbook, barely glancing at the “Come back to me?” on his note from this morning. My pen moved fast across the paper. I yanked the note out, crumbled it into a ball, and handed it to him.
No.
Emery
P.S. Out of all the lies, my favorite was you and me.
