Page 13 of The Liar in Room 5

“Thirty-two, and pretty sure you don’t qualify as my elder. You’re what…thirty-nine? Forty?”

“Yeah, sadly, I look my age.” My laugh sounded a little forced, but I think I covered it well.

“Which is?”

“Thirty-nine for another minute.”

I wasn’t sure where Henry was headed, but I knew it wasn’t Halo House. It was the opposite direction. Someone with more self-preservation would ask where we were going. Since that wasn’t me, I just enjoyed the quiet of the car. The afternoon had been so much fun, and exploring the creek with Ben was a definite highlight, but now, I was inexplicably exhausted. We hadn’t been in the sun that much, but I was still worn out.

“For what it’s worth, I like your looks.”

Henry’s declaration sounded sincere enough that I wasn’t sure whether to say thank you or laugh. I settled on looking out the window to count the passing houses. They eventually gave way to more industrial spaces.

“Thanks. They’re all I’ve got to work with, so I’ll take it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’m tired.”

“Of what?”

Oh, for cryin’ out loud. I needed to learn to keep the intrusive thoughts in my head. A lie would be easier to say but harder to defend. The real answer was tired of all of it. Not living, because I definitely wanted that to continue, but of gauging and measuring and figuring out how to make myself as pleasing as possible. It was frigging exhausting, and I was half-tempted to tell the truth.

“Being kept.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I said with a melodramatic sigh, “come for the company and stay for the existential crisis.”

“As it turns out, those are best solved over tacos.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“It’s my job to know things.”

“I thought your job was to be a lawyer?”

“Ha, practically the same thing. Existential crises are my Tuesdays. In fairness, yours sounds more interesting than theirs, but still solvable.”

“You sure about that?” I’d returned to looking out the window.

With the top down, I was hopeful the dust would blow away, but more likely, I just looked windblown and bedraggled.

“I’m hopeful, and even if I’m wrong, there’s tacos, so it’s a win either way.”

Henry’s hand found its way back to mine. While he steered with his left, he wrapped his fingers around mine. Together, they rested on the center console and stayed that way until he needed both hands to pull into the parking lot. It had been longer than I could remember since comfort without strings was offered. I hoped this was the first time in a long time because if it wasn’t, I would be pissed. And more than a little disappointed.

“Don’t let the truck fool you. These are the best tacos you’ve had in your entire life,” Henry assured me with an emphatic nod in the direction of the neon-clad truck plastered with hand-lettered signs. “I suggest the carne asada, but the chicken is an excellent choice too.”

“The best usually do come from trucks,” I assured him.

“The tortillas are homemade perfection.”

“How’d you find this place?” I asked after Henry pulled into a parking spot.

After putting the car into Park, his hand found mine again. This time he laced our fingers together, and it…wasn’t terrible.

“It belongs to the parents of a client. I insisted that all our meetings take place here after I tried it the first time,” Henry said with an easy laugh.