Another Shot At Love Page 8

  My loud, panicked voice had everyone’s attention. Finally.

  Lexie sniffed in amusement and shook her head. “If you had a boyfriend why didn’t you say so before?”

  Indeed, why? I struggled to come up with an answer. “Because I didn’t want you guys to know, that’s why. I’ve been keeping him a secret from all of you. I don’t want you to meet him yet.”

  “You’re lying.” Catherine turned her big sister suspicious gaze on me, as if trying to shake the truth from my very soul. I pretended interest in the couch fabric just to the right of Mom’s shoulder. If I made any kind of eye contact with Catherine there was a definitely possibility I would crack under her super powers.

  “We just decided to, uh, be exclusive. Just last night, actually.” I added a nod for authenticity and smiled a toothy smile. “Because I had to tell him Catherine forced me into another date.”

  “I did not,” Catherine denied.

  Yes she had.

  “And then he got really jealous and confessed his love.” I jerked my thumb toward my chest. “For me.”

  Mom’s eyebrows puckered together and a familiar crease between her brows appeared. The one she got when she was really irritated or upset.

  Oh crap, I’m in trouble.

  I shifted nervously on my feet.

  Lexie said, “You are such a spaz.”

  She was right; I was acting like a spaz. So, I dropped down into the loveseat and folded my hands in my lap. If lying had come easily to me, I probably wouldn’t have looked so guilty. But I didn’t lie to my parents. I didn’t lie to my sisters. There’d never been a reason to. Until now.

  White lies didn’t count. Like the time I borrowed Lexie’s lip gloss and lost it after not returning it for a week. I pretended not to have a clue where it was because it was Lexie’s favorite and she’d told me not to take it. To make up for it, I’d rushed to the store and bought a replacement. No harm done.

  But making up a boyfriend? This was on a whole different level.

  “Who is this boy?” Mom asked. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

  “Yeah.” Lexie said, her interest finally piqued enough to put the bridal magazine down.

  And when had Lexie perfected Catherine’s eagle-eye stare?

  “Because I like him and I don’t want everyone scaring him away.” It was a sort of true statement. If there was a guy in my life, I probably would keep him away from them until after the engagement party and Catherine’s pregnancy so my sisters would be back to normal again. They were too intense, even for me. It was a good thing this fictional boyfriend wouldn’t ever have to actually meet them.

  Catherine scrunched up her nose. “Why would we scare him away?”

  I didn’t bother to answer—it was like talking to a wall. Or an alien.

  “So are you bringing him to the engagement party or are you bringing Paul?” Lexie asked and her indifference made me suspicious. She’d dropped the phantom boyfriend questions way too quickly. Her attention was back on the magazine; she ripped out a page and handed it to Mom.

  Mom didn’t take it, though. Her eyes were fastened on me, the guilty party.

  “I’m not bringing Paul and I’m not bringing my boyfriend, either.” I said it firmly, hoping they would all let it drop.

  “I don’t know if I like you dating someone you haven’t introduced your father and me to.” The hurt in Mom’s voice put a lump in my throat. “What will your father think?”

  “Very strange you never mentioned him,” Catherine said.

  “It’s not serious,” I mumbled. Catherine opened her mouth to point out the flub in my story, so I quickly added, “I mean, it wasn’t serious. But now it is.”

  “It’s serious and I haven’t met him?” Mom’s voice raised an octave.

  I sighed and hung my head. When had everything gotten so screwed up?

  “Mom, I just didn’t want you getting any premature ideas, that’s all. It’s new, our relationship. New, but exclusive. You know?” I hoped Mom understood what I was talking about because I sure as hell didn’t.

  “Well, you should have at least told me about him, Imogen Mae Gorecki,” Mom scolded.

  Crap, crap, crap. She was really upset. She never used anyone’s full name unless they’d done something very wrong. And not only was she giving me the disapproving eye, but Catherine’s intense gaze had me freaked out too. Catherine rubbed her belly, her stare never wavering.

  “You probably aren’t dating anyone,” Catherine finally said. She turned to Mom. “I’ll just invite Paul to dinner on Saturday. He loves your lasagna. We’ll ask him to be Gen’s date for the engagement party after we have dinner and everyone’s settled in for the football game.”

  “No! I’m not going to cheat on my boyfriend with Paul or anyone else. Drop it.”

  “A date to a party is not the same as cheating.” Lexie laughed and set the magazine on the couch. She seemed way too amused by the situation for my taste. Lexie asked, “Why are you being so dramatic?”

  “Why are you all being so pushy?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “So what’s this new boyfriend’s name?” Catherine asked.

  “His name is…” I couldn’t think of a name. Name, name, name. “Matt Sesnick! His name is Matt.”

  Holy crap, had that come out of my mouth? My belly rolled as if I’d consumed too much vodka.

  Lexie grinned. “You’re making him up.”

  “No I’m not. I’ll prove it.” I hurried out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen. My purse was where I’d left it on the kitchen counter. I muttered a curse while I searched through it frantically. Where is that damn card?

  “Ha!” I exclaimed triumphantly, clutching it in my hand. I hurried back to the living room and stalked right up to Catherine, Conspiracy Theorist #1. I waved the card under her nose and said, “He’s a financial advisor. A really good one.”

  It was harmless to use him. He’d never know.

  Catherine snatched the card out of my hand and peered down at it, but Mom took it from her before she could get a good look. I was nervous while Mom inspected the card under the lamp light on the end table. She mouthed Matt’s name. Lexie leaned over to get a look at the card, but Mom nudged her away so she could study it.

  “Oh, this is perfect,” she finally said, her eyes bright. “He sounds wonderful, honey. I was really worried about you!”

  “Let me see that,” Lexie said, but I took the card from Mom’s hand before Lexie could get to it. I dropped it back inside my purse. I’d burn it when I got home. There was no way I could ever call him now. Not after what I’d done. Just as well; he was clearly dangerous. I’d almost jumped into bed with him on the first night—who knew how I would have reacted the next time I saw him.

  It seemed like a good idea to give up men for an indefinite period of time. Maybe become a nun.

  “I’m going home. You people drive me crazy.” I kept my head down to dig inside my purse for my keys.

  “Wait! What’s he look like?” Lexie asked.

  Matt’s image slide easily into mind, the way his lips turned up into a lopsided smile, all dimples and sexy. I shivered and my cheeks grew warm. .

  “Oh,” Mom said on a breath and clasped her hands together against her chest. “You really like this one.”

  “Mom, please don’t get any ideas,” I pleaded, losing the smile. “It’s still new.”

  Like nonexistent new. But the attraction? Yeah, that was real. Just the thought of him made me tingle all over.

  “Hmm,” Catherine said with pursed lips. She still didn’t believe my story so I did what any desperate girl would—I took out my cell phone and flipped to the picture of me and Matt. Truthfully, I’d been looking at it all day.

  I flashed the picture at Catherine, let her have a good look at it, before turning it so Mom and Lexie could see. Then I dropped the phone into my purse and said, “He’s real, so quit looking at me like that.”

  “He’s cute,�
�� Lexie said then gazed back at me with question in her eyes. She seemed hurt I hadn’t told her about him.

  “Bring him to dinner Saturday. I want to meet him,” Mom said.

  I shook my head and grasped the front door handle. “No. It’s too early for that. Love you guys.”

  I escaped before they could ask me anything else. Outside the sun was low on the horizon, the sky a shadow of orange and red. Normally, I would have stopped to take in the sunset, breathe in the colors and smells of a May evening, but I was too deep in the load of crap I’d just made up.

  And why the hell had I used Matt’s name?

  What is wrong with you?!?

  I threw my car into reverse and backed out of my parents’ driveway with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Catherine could sniff out a lie from a mile away, and I was no good at telling them. Obviously—I’d just made up a boyfriend in a moment of panic. How pathetic was I? And if they found out my story was a load of bull, they’d all be pissed.

  This is all Catherine’s fault, I reasoned and flipped on the stereo. And Lexie hadn’t been any help in the matter.

  They’d forced my hand!

  I never would have made up such a stupid story if it weren’t for them butting in the way they had. They were ruthless, really.

  “They’re crazy!” I said to my empty car. I stopped at the stop sign and looked both ways before turning onto the street. “I mean, they’re really bat-shit crazy right now. I had no choice.”

  My fib had been a matter of survival. Drastic situations called for drastic measures. It was the only way…

  How hard could it be to maintain a fabricated relationship with a guy who would never find out?

  “I’ll have a fake break up after engagement party,” I muttered and turned the corner. “Piece of cake.”

  Chapter Seven

  My passion had always been art. When I was little, I’d been content brandishing a pack of crayons and doodling on any surface available—walls, sidewalks, the refrigerator door, but mostly on paper. Especially after my parents had threatened to take away my art supplies. As I grew older and learned a bit of self-control, I focused my creativity on surfaces that wouldn’t be scrubbed or repainted. I’d fallen in love with color and it was a part of me, like breathing.

  Art was an outlet for my every emotion, and a fundamental aspect of my life that I never once questioned. I painted whatever moved me, mostly visions from dreams so vivid that I spent days, sometimes weeks getting an image out of my head before I lost them forever. Color made me happy and creativity through art was the only thing that kept me sane through the teenage drama that had plagued high school. Some kids penned angsty poetry; I had always preferred sharing my emotion through pencils or paints. That would never change.

  Despite my family considering it just an expensive hobby, I knew it for what it was—my soul. Without it in my life, I wouldn’t be the same person. I missed the gallery I used to work at, the smell of the paintings, the thrill of a show, being around others who enjoyed it as much as I did. I’d gone to the other three galleries in town, but none of them were hiring.

  I needed a new plan and I was ready to make one.

  Peering at the canvas in front of me, I dabbed more blue onto the painting. The sunlight streamed through the double windows right onto the canvas. The oceanscape shimmered with vivid colors, just as I remembered from a trip I’d taken over spring break a few years ago.

  My eyes drifted over to the corner of the room where last week I’d stacked pieces of barn wood on a blue tarp. I’d been browsing the classifieds when I came across an ad for free wood from a nearby farm; they’d torn down their barn to erect a new one. Reading the ad, I suddenly had a vision: I would paint farm scenes on them and maybe take them to the gift shop downtown. Lexie and I had taken our parents’ SUV out to the farm and loaded up as much as we could into the back.

  Living alone meant I had a lot more time to bask in creativity. I could sit for hours in my studio, no interruptions, and I loved it. I was lost in thought, lost in color, when my land-line rang from the kitchen, startling me. It rang again and I hopped off the stool, carrying the paintbrush with me as I hurried to the kitchen. I swept the phone up and clicked to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Gennie-bear.”

  The sound of Brent’s voice was like a slap in the face and I flinched. I set the paintbrush down on the edge of the sink with a glare. “What the hell do you want?”

  And he’d used a nickname reserved for people who cared about me, not for someone who’d betrayed me.

  “Hey now, I was just calling to check up on you. See how you’re doing.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice and wanted to shake it from his face until his teeth chattered. Wrenching open the refrigerator door, I said, “Brent, I changed my number for a reason. Obviously, I don’t want to talk to you.”

  I eyed the beers on the shelf. They were leftovers from a night with Roxanna and Ghost Adventures and throwing popcorn at the screen every time something almost happened, but never did. It was too early to hit the bottle, though, so I grabbed an iced tea instead.

  “Gennie, it’s not fair how you just up and left.”

  “It’s not fair that you slept with a hooker, either.” I shut the refrigerator door a little harder than necessary.

  “She’s not a hooker.”

  “Stripper, whatever.” Before he could protest, I said, “And I don’t really care if she’s a neurosurgeon or cleans toilets for a living. Also, I don’t care that you think I should care what Stripper Barbie does for a living.”

  There, it felt good to get that out. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t just hang up, but I’d always been the curious sort.

  “Come on, Gen. After you threw all of my stuff out on the sidewalk the way you did, I think you owe me this talk.”

  I sputtered, literally at a loss of words. Or maybe sputtering had more to do with the sudden spike of rage. I snapped my mouth open and shut as I searched for words that eluded me—the only thing crossing through my mind was swear words, in bold lettering.

  “I owe you a talk, huh?”

  “You never even gave me a chance to explain!”

  “Explain why you didn’t show up at the art show to spend the evening with me? Explain why you were in bed with your ex instead?”

  “I made a mistake. I wanted to be there, I did!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, you weren’t. You were doing your ex on our bed. And really, it’s not as if you could have shown up without your pants on and a relationship-wrecking whore in your lap. I gave that bed to the Goodwill, by the way.”

  “Gennie, please. Meet me for dinner. Or let me come see you. We can talk about this.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, I’m not. And some of those clothes you threw out were really expensive. A homeless guy got to them before I did.”

  I laughed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Damn, I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to see that.”

  “It’s not funny. I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “I saw him wearing my suit jacket at the gas station. It was all stained up and ripped,” he said and I pictured him shuddering. What a baby. “A homeless guy, Gennie—in my suit.”

  “You’re such a snob.” I twisted the cap off the tea bottle and took a drink then wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. “Did he get all of the clothes?”

  “No, most of them, though.”

  “Damn, that’s too bad.” I smiled.

  “Very funny,” he pouted.

  “I’m not trying to be funny, Brent.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “This isn’t going the way I planned.”

  “Shocker,” I said.

  “Gen, that’s not fair.” He sounded hurt and I narrowed my eyes. He had no right to be hurt.

  The guy was definitely from Mars. Maybe in my five-year plan I needed to pencil in: Write a book entitled I Dated a Gray Alien. The
kind that did unspeakable things, like human torture. Of the cheating sort.

  “I hate those damn grays,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  I straightened and began pacing my small kitchen. “I said I hate aliens. Anyway, that’s not the point right now. The point is that I’m being fair—I haven’t hung up, have I? You’re lucky I’m not adding some choice, well-deserved words to this conversation. I’m being much nicer than I should be.”

  During our relationship I’d never doubted Brent was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I now recognized how naïve I’d been in thinking I could tame the womanizing jerk. I’d fallen for the wrong guy and I would never make that mistake again. After all this time away from him, I couldn’t remember being as in love with him as I should have been. Maybe I’d been more in love with the idea of it, of my twin and me marrying best friends and doing everything together like we’d always done.

  I couldn’t even clearly picture his face anymore. All I could see was Brent’s big, pearly white teeth and spray tanned face. I giggled and switched direction to the living room.

  “What’s so funny now?”

  His irritation only made my grin widen.

  “You wouldn’t get it.” And he wouldn’t because he was too full of himself to laugh about his big white teeth and fake tan. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re really calling, Brent. How’d you get my number?”

  “Jeremy gave it to me. I wanted—”

  “That little weasel,” I muttered. Jeremy would definitely get an earful as soon as I hung up on Brent.

  “Damn it, Gen, why are you making this so difficult?” Frustration dripped from his words and I collapsed in satisfaction on the couch.

  “Well,” I said after making him wait a few seconds and sweat a little, “because, number one, you are a cheater.”

  “Gen, you didn’t let me explain—”

  “And number two, you never tried calling me after I moved.”

  “You changed your number!”