The Truth in Lies (The Truth in Lies Saga) Read online

  But I trusted that he remained faithful to me, even if he spent all those nights on the road. He knew how I felt about cheating. I’d told him countless times that if he felt the urge to be with someone else, that was the indicator that he didn’t want to be with me, and he needed to break things off with me.

  As for Olivia, she believed Nate had been screwing around on me from the beginning. In her mind that was his reason for never staying home. I couldn’t allow myself to believe he would do that to me. Not after everything we’d been through.

  Sitting up straight, I pulled my legs to my chest. A deep sigh expelled from my lungs, as the thought occurred to me that a few months prior, I wouldn’t have been able to fold my body together in this manner.

  Three months had passed since I lost my son. Three lonely, miserable months I’d been left alone in agony over the child I was never meant to hold. Nate and I never got the chance to celebrate the discovery of our child’s sex together. The day Nate returned home from his business trip was the very same day I miscarried Evan.

  For the first couple of weeks after my miscarriage, Nate was very attentive. I felt lucky to have him home with me. It had been a long time since I felt like we were a true couple, and for the first time in a long time, I had the man I fell in love with back. But as the weeks passed, things started to return to normal.

  Nate acted like a caged animal, plotting his escape. I, on the other hand, withdrew deep inside myself. He wanted everything to return as it was before I became pregnant, which was the last thing I wanted. Living with Nate, prior to my pregnancy, was like living with a roommate who happened to share the same bed. Of course, that was only when he was at home, which wasn’t often. While it wasn’t required of him to travel out of state for his job, he did it to obtain better revenue and earn higher profits.

  With him at home, arguments ensued between us. He rarely touched me. Even when the doctor gave me the okay to have sex again, he avoided physical contact. Instead, he grew cold and distant, until finally, I told him to go do what he wanted to do. In a matter of days, he was gone. Sure, he returned home every week or so, but that didn’t matter. The simple fact that he loved the road more than me was more than I could bear.

  Instead of breaking up with him, I stuck it out, convincing myself that things would get better. The man I fell in love with had to still be in there, and he would come back to me, someday.

  Days went by, then weeks passed, and Nate became more and more estranged. He would call me every night from the road, but our conversations always ended with us fighting. Depression became a natural part of my existence, and I relished in it. I rarely left the house, unless it was to go to work or the beach. I avoided my friends, and endured my mother’s calls only because I had to.

  The flaming orb of the sun now set high above the gulf. Periodically, a jet ski would fly over the water’s edge. How long I had been sitting on the shore, I wasn’t sure, nor did I care. For it was there that all my troubles faded away.

  A loud ringing invaded my solitude, along with the rumbling buzz of the phone in the pocket of my shorts. I groaned, arching my back as I dug my hand into my pocket. Removing my phone from my shorts, I gazed at it. The sun formed a horrible glare over the plastic screen, forcing me to hold it up in front of my face to see who was calling. The display screen noted that my mother was the intruder of my sanctuary.

  “Just what I need,” I muttered, sliding my finger over the hard surface of my smart phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s about time, McKenzie Paige Evans. I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. Where have you been?” Mom scolded me, her tone full of anxious energy.

  The sound of my mother’s voice made me chuckle. My mind associated her timbre with Molly Weasely’s voice from the second Harry Potter movie, when she scolded Fred, George, and Ron for disappearing to rescue Harry from the Dursley’s.

  “Sorry, Momma. After Nate called last night, I was spent, so I went straight to bed.”

  My mother released a heavy sigh, blowing a puff of air through the phone, making a horrible racket. “I take it you two fought again?”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees while holding the phone to my ear with one hand.

  “Yeah. It’s always the same. I ask when he’s coming home, and he rips me a new one.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “Three weeks. He was due back last weekend, but his trip got extended.”

  “I see.”

  My eyes rolled back, forcing my eyelashes to flutter. This was the reason why I avoided my mother. She may not say it, but I knew she was disappointed in me.

  “It’s okay, really. Be proud of me. I finally did what you asked, and took down Evan’s room.”

  The sudden pain in my chest caused me to flinch. Nate and I had spent countless hours putting together the baby’s room for his arrival. For weeks after his death, I refused to allow anyone in there. Nate allowed me the comfort of leaving Evan’s room unscathed. However, over time it became the source of one of our arguments.

  Nate felt that leaving the room up after the miscarriage was unhealthy. I accused him of trying to destroy the only thing I had left of Evan. It crushed me when I discovered that everyone I loved, including my parents, agreed with Nate.

  “That’s good, sweetheart. I’m proud of you,” she said, followed by a short pause. “Um, did you go see that doctor I told you about?”

  A seagull swept down into the gulf, thrusting its beak into the water. I envied that bird for a moment. It was free to go wherever and do whatever it pleased. It didn’t have to answer to anyone or anything.

  “Mom, I’m not driving two hours to Orlando to see a doctor. I’m fine.”

  My mother had been hounding me for weeks to see a shrink. Of course, I refused.

  “But Jennifer says he’s the best in Florida,” she argued.

  “How would Jennifer know, Mom? She doesn’t live here.”

  Jennifer Conrad was a busy-body, know-it-all housewife, whose husband was a psychiatrist in Amarillo, Texas, where I grew up. For years the Conrad family lived next door to us, thus making my mother and Jennifer the best of friends. But as Lawrence’s practice began to grow, so did his ego, and living in our little community was no longer suitable for the Conrad family. So during my freshman year of high school, the Conrad’s moved to Lake Tanglewood. That, however, didn’t stop Mom and Jennifer from remaining friends.

  “Lawrence has connections all over the country, Mickie. I really think you should give Dr. Kelser a try. He might be able to help you put this whole thing with Evan and Nate into perspective.”

  “Forget it, Mom. I don’t need some shrink telling me that I’m fucked up in the head. I know that already,” I shot back.

  Instantly, I felt guilty for being snotty with my mother. She didn’t understand that I had no intentions of sharing my soul with anyone. This was my burden to bear, and I would do so alone.

  “I just think it might help if you talked to someone. That’s all.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you. If I feel like I’m getting worse, I promise I’ll make an appointment. Okay?”

  “Okay, sweetheart.”

  I tilted my head back, staring up at white clouds streaming over the big, blue sky. This was why I loved Florida. It was only January, yet it was still warm and sunny. Perfect for a day at the beach, and I was all too grateful for being there while having this conversation with my mother.

  A long pause ensued, only to be broken by my mother. “You know, your dad and I have been meaning to take some time off from the shop. We missed seeing you at Christmas and thought maybe we could come out there to visit you for a week or so. What do you think?”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my parents, because I did. They were the two greatest people on the planet, in my opinion, but they were also the two people I didn’t want to see me when I felt like the end of the world was nigh. I couldn’t disappoint them anymore than I already had
. They had given up so much for me while growing up, that now I only wanted to make them proud. Wallowing in my own self-pity wasn’t what I would call a proud moment in my life.

  There was no way I could break her heart; so, I came up with the quickest excuse I could muster.

  “That’d be wonderful. Why don’t you plan on coming during spring break when I can take the week off with you? I’d hate for you to come all the way out here and me have to work.”

  “I guess you’re right. That does sound like a good idea,” she conceded. “I miss you, baby girl.”

  “I miss you too, Momma. Tell Dad I said hi and I love him.”

  “I will.”

  “Well, I have to go. I’ve been sitting on the beach this whole time talkin’ to you,” I stated.

  “Okay. I’ll chat at ya later then. Take care. I love you.”

  “I love you too. Ba-bye.”

  “Ba-bye,” she replied and disconnected the call.

  I dropped the now silent cell phone onto the sand beside me. The beach was once again at peace. My lonesome friend was there to comfort me. The air around me was calm, but in the distance, I could hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, children laughing and playing, and the roaring engines of boats and jet skis rushing over the open water.

  This was Heaven, but it didn’t last for long. In a matter of minutes, my cell phone was vibrating again. I glanced down to see Olivia’s name appear on the screen.

  I refused to answer it. Olivia was the last person I wanted to speak with. She had recently started dating some divorce attorney that my Ob/Gyn had introduced her too. Like most people who’ve recently acquired a new love interest, she couldn’t stop talking about him. Not that I wasn’t happy for her, but my world was shattering around me, and all she could do was go on and on about how perfect he was.

  To say I avoided her like a plague was an understatement. She knew it too. Olivia was many things and intuitive was one of them.

  When she discovered her previous boyfriend, Tristan Wilder, was cheating on her, she waited until she knew that he and what she referred to as his ‘blonde bimbo’ were together before confronting him.

  Tristan came from a very well-to-do family. Owning a majority of the gas stations in Sarasota County produced a name and wealth for the Wilder clan. It came as no surprise to me when Olivia started dating him, because Tristan was her usual type, so to speak. While he was outside her preference for appearance –being the lead singer for a local rock band– his sizable bank account compensated for his, in her opinion, horrible fashion sense.

  They had dated for a year when she discovered his affair. Instead of confronting him immediately, she orchestrated the moment she would catch him bed with his mistress. From what she told me, she threw the key to his place at his head and walked out of his apartment without so much as speaking to him. I found that hard to believe, but went with it. Who was I to argue semantics?

  While Olivia swore that was the end of things for her, it seemed too coincidental that mere days after their breakup an article appeared in the society page of the Sarasota Herald Tribune entitled, ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock –n– Roll: The real life of Tristan Wilder.’ What was even more precarious was the fact that it was written by Jeremy London, who happened to be one of Olivia’s former clients.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

  Picking up my cell phone, I swiped the sand off the cover and stuffed it back into my pocket. It was impossible for me to ignore Olivia for long. She had a knack for catching me off guard, but today, I was determined to be left alone.

  I stood up, wiped the granular sand off of my bare skin, and cast one last glance over the water. Then with a heavy heart, I adjusted my shirt and darted off in a fast sprint toward my car that was bound to take me back to my living prison.

  Chapter Two

  The house was just as empty as I left it. Casting a soft glow over the beige carpet, the afternoon sun blazed in through the slats of the white shades which covered the windows.

  I kicked off my sneakers and trampled barefoot down the hall to the master suite. After a long, relaxing shower, I changed into my comfy jeans, white t-shirt, and favorite oversized brown cardigan. The thought of food nauseated me, but after running, I knew I needed the fuel. Reluctantly, I made a peanut butter sandwich and forced it down my throat.

  Satisfied with my accomplishment, I decided to reward myself by sneaking into Evan’s nursery. The hinges of the door creaked as I opened it. The room was completely devoid of anything resembling the fact that a newborn baby was meant to reside there, save the lone rocking chair that sat by the window, facing where the crib should have been.

  White walls stood bare and the carpet still held the impression of the furniture that had once been placed lovingly around the room. I tiptoed inside and closed the door behind me. The soft clank of the latch clicking into the frame calmed my nerves.

  The room was dark, and I had no urge to turn on a light. Even the dank light that tried to creep into the room, through the window, was obliterated by the sorrow this room held. The sun sought to demolish that darkness, but the battle was a lost cause. Treading into the room, I stretched out my hand, touching the stained wood of the rocking chair that had been placed with love near what would’ve been the baby’s crib. Instead, all that remained was crushed carpet where the crib once stood.

  I sat down in the rocker, thrusting my toes into the carpet. Usually, I would sit in the chair, rocking to and fro, until my sorrow overwhelmed me. In the depths of my despair, I’d dream of the child that should be in my arms, cooing and crying, needing my attention.

  But today was different. Instead of seeing the faceless image of my unborn child resting in my arms, the moment I closed my eyes, I found myself transported back to the beach. It was a day just like today, warm and sunny, and oddly enough, I felt happy. A faint smile twitched across my lips, as someone took my hand. My whole body tingled at the sensation of his imagined touch.

  I looked up into the eyes of the man, only to gasp when I realized who I had manifested in the role of my companion. It was the nameless man that I encountered on the beach earlier.

  My mind reconstructed him inch by inch; his perfect white smile, the flare of his sharp nose as he breathed, his rounded lips, striking dimples, and his toned, smooth physique.

  Warmth flooded my body at the memory of him looking back at me. His piercing blue eyes burrowed into the depths of my soul. I imagined him cocooning me in his arms, and planting the most delicious kiss on my lips.

  Lost in my daydream, I hadn’t heard the sound of a car pulling into my driveway. A knock at the bedroom door startled me.

  “Kenz, you in here?” Olivia’s voice called out from behind the door.

  I jumped up from the chair, knocking it to the floor. “Liv?” I caterwauled.

  Light flooded the room from the hallway. My eyes squinted as they adjusted to the intrusion. A tall, svelte silhouette darkened my path. I bent over and picked up the rocking chair, placing it back on its feet.

  “How the hell…” I began.

  Having adjusted to the light, my eyes focused in on Olivia. Her jet black hair hung over her left shoulder. She looked like a model dressed in a peach fuzzy sweater, dark-wash skinny jeans, and black knee-high boots. Leaning against the doorway, her thin lips curled into a smug smirk, as she dangled my house key from her long, bony finger. She stood almost a foot taller than me, and with heels she could tower almost any man. I envied her height.

  “You gave this to me in case of emergencies, remember?”

  I wrapped my cardigan around my chest, stomping out of the room with a tepid snarl on my face. “Invasion of privacy doesn’t constitute as an emergency,” I sneered.

  She waved her hand up and down my body, as I walked past her. “Look at you. Your hair is a mess, you look like death, and my God, woman, that wardrobe needs help.”

  “I’m fine,” I grumbled. “You came all this way for nothing.”
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  “Liar,” she countered.

  That one word stopped me cold. “I beg your pardon.”

  Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. She stood at her full height, looking down at me with a menacing scowl. Her sculpted eyebrows furrowed tight together.

  “Look at you, Kenz. I’ve seen you sick. I’ve seen you drunk, but this is the worst I’ve ever seen you. You need help.”

  I threw my arms in the air. “I’m not seeing a shrink!”

  “I didn’t say…” she started.

  But I wasn’t hearing it. I was sick of everyone telling me what I needed. “God, you sound like my mother.”

  Like a statue, she stood in my hallway staring at me. “I’m not telling you to see a doctor. I could give a rat’s ass if you do or don’t. What I do care about, is you getting out of this hell hole for a night.”

  I turned away from her, walking back down the hall toward the living room. “And what do you suggest? Clubbing, no doubt.”

  Olivia followed me into the living room and landed with a soft thud on my couch. “Nope. I want you to come over for dinner tonight.”

  I plopped down beside her, hugging my sweater around me. “Liv, no offense, but I really don’t feel like going out right now.”

  She turned her body to face me, propping the heel of her boot against the edge of my coffee table. “You need to get out of this house,” she pointed toward the hallway and continued, “and out of that room. Why that prick of a boyfriend left you here alone again is beyond me.”

  “He had to work.”

  “Bullshit!” Olivia bellowed. “He’s not man enough to say he wants out. Instead, he’s stringing you along with the hope that things are going to change. Wake up, Kenz. They won’t!”

  A single tear washed down my cheek. Olivia had just voiced the one fear I held deep down inside of me. She brushed her thumb across my cheek, wiping the tear from my face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please, come over tonight. What do you have to lose?”