Thief (Love Me With Lies #3)(21)

“She-”

“-Is,” I said firmly. “In college I was the * that slept with everyone because I could. I’ve been with many women, and she is the only one who makes me want to be a better person … and a better person for her. I don’t even need to be good, I just need to be good for her.”

My mother stared at me blankly.

“Forget it,” I said, standing up. She grabbed my arm.

“Have you told your father?”

I felt myself flinch. “No, why would I do that?”

“Your brother?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“They’ll confirm what I’m saying. You’re young.”

“I wouldn’t be too young if I’d bought this ring for Sidney, would I?”

She bit her bottom lip and I pulled my arm from her grasp.

“My father is so against commitment he’s managed to date a new woman every month for the last ten years. Seth is so reclusive and neurotic; he’d rather be alone for the rest of his life than have someone leave a dish in the sink. I don’t think I’ll be going to either for relationship advice. And just for the record, it’s your job to be supportive of me. Everyone told you not to divorce my father and marry Steve. Had you listened to them, where would you be now?”

She was panting by the time I finished saying that. I glanced at the door. I needed out of here, fast. I wanted to be with Olivia. See her face, kiss her.

“Caleb.”

I glanced down at my mother. She had been a good mother to my brother and me. Good enough to leave my father when she saw how damaging his influence on us had been. To others she was not a particularly kind woman, but I understood that. She was verbally cutting and critical. It was common among the wealthy. I never expected her to embrace Olivia. But, I had hoped for a less trite reaction. Maybe even forced happiness for my sake. I was growing weary of her pronounced cattiness.



She placed her hand on my arm again, squeezing lightly. “I know you think I’m shallow. I probably am. Women in my generation were taught not to think too deeply about our feelings, and to do what needed to be done without dissecting it emotionally. But, I am more perceptive than you think. She will be your destruction. She’s not healthy.”

I gently removed her hand from my arm. “Then let her destroy me.”





I take Cammie home first. When she steps out of the car, she kisses my cheek and holds my eyes for a second longer than is normal. I know she’s sorry. After all these years of Olivia and me, how can she not be? I nod at her and she tucks her lips in and smiles. When I get back in, Olivia is watching me.

“Sometimes, I feel like you and Cammie speak without speaking,” she says.

“Maybe we do.”

The rest of the ride is quiet. It reminds me of our drive back from the camping trip, when there was so much to say and no courage to say it. We’re so much older now, so much has happened. It shouldn’t be this hard.

I carry her bag upstairs. She holds the front door open for me when we get to her floor, so I step past her and walk into the foyer. Once again I feel Noah’s absence. It feels like she’s been living here on her own. The air is warm. I can smell traces of her perfume in certain spots. She turns on the air conditioner and we move into the kitchen.

“Tea?” she asks.

“Please.”

I can pretend for a few minutes that this is our house and she’s making me tea like she does every morning. I watch her put the kettle on and get the tea bags. She rubs the back of her neck and tucks a foot behind her knee while she waits for the water to boil. Then she carries a glass jar of sugar cubes and a small milk jug to the table and sets them down in front of me. I turn away and pretend I wasn’t watching her. This pierces my heart a little bit. We always said we’d have sugar cubes instead of plain sugar. She fetches two teacups from the cabinet, stretching on her tiptoes to reach them. I watch her face as she drops four cubes into my cup. She stirs it for me and pours in the milk. I reach for the cup before she pulls her hand away, and our fingers touch. Her eyes dart to mine. Dart away. She drinks her tea with only one cube of sugar. We find the tabletop increasingly interesting as the minutes pass. Finally, I set my cup down. It clinks against the saucer. There is a storm brewing between us. Maybe that’s why we are savoring the calm. I stand up and take both of our cups to the sink. I wash them and set them in the dry rack.

“I still want you,” I say. I surprise myself by saying this out loud. I don’t know if she’s having the same reaction because my back is to her.

“Fuck you.”

Surprise, surprise.

She can’t hide from me with her dirty mouth. I see how she looks at me. I feel the sting of regret when our skin accidentally touches.

“I built you that house,” I say, turning around. “I kept it even after I got married. I hired a landscaper and a pool guy. I’ve had a cleaning service go in once every two months. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a nostalgic fool who only lets go of the past long enough to marry another woman.”

“You’re right. I am a fool. But, as you can see, I’m a fool who never quite let go.”

“Let go.”

I shake my head. “Uh-uh. This time you found me, remember?”