Page 22 of The Liar in Room 5

The frustration was written all over his face, and I didn’t know how to fix it for him. Hell, I didn’t know if I could fix it for him.

“Is there a reason?”

“I came out to California because I didn’t want to stay in Iowa, and I met my first boyfriend, and then the next one, and the one after that. Now, it’s twenty years later, and I don’t even remember who I am. Do I like white wine? Shit, I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe I just drink it because I have for twenty years, and I don’t remember not liking it.”

“But what if you just started over?”

“Well, unless you’ve built a time machine, I’m probably S-O-L on that.”

“No time machine, but how about we try all the things? No pressure and no expectations. If you like it, you like it. If you don’t, you don’t.”

“These existential crises are getting to be an absolute pain in the ass.”

“I’ve got tortillas. We’ll put your steak in one. It’ll be fine.”

“I do legitimately like tacos.”

Drew gave me a watery smile through his tears. He probably wouldn’t agree, but with his red-rimmed eyes and pale skin, his hair a little messed up from where he’d run his fingers through it without bothering to style it back, he was the most handsome I’d ever seen him. Without the polish and veneer of respectability, he’d forgotten to smile like the practiced socialite he pretended to be and looked more like the country boy from Iowa that I was beginning to suspect was the real him.

I liked this version better.

When the tears leaked from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, the urge to wipe them away was too much. I used my thumb to trace the wet path down his cheek. I felt the almost imperceptible tilt of his head against my fingers. My hands returned to cup his cheeks. There was the faint bristle of stubble against my palms. Drew closed his eyes and sighed a little.

“I don’t know why you’re putting up with me.”

“I’m not putting up with anything. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I like who you are.”

“I’m not sure how you can like me when I don’t even know who I am,” Drew muttered. He pulled his hands away from mine and began plucking at a random loose thread on the chaise cushion we were sitting on.

“I know plenty about you,” I said quietly. “I know you’re kind. I know you’re always more worried about other people than yourself. You like tacos. You’re good with kids. You have an amazing ability to talk to anyone about anything and make them feel like you truly hear them. And you have great taste in food. I’m not sure there’s anything else I really need to know.”

“You forgot the part where I’m an absolute idiot who didn’t understand how my boyfriends were found, or that I haven’t had a real job in twenty years. I eat dinner in my room every night because I don’t know how to talk to anyone, and I don’t even know if I want to talk to anyone.”

I gave up. I couldn’t watch him be miserable without offering some comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, come here,” I said before I reached out, put my hands on his hips, and pulled him forward.

Drew snaked his arms around my waist and leaned into my chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed. That was enough for him to let go and let the tears come.

I had no idea how long we sat together on the chaise while he cried, and I let him. Every once in a while, he’d mutter some kind of apology, and I’d shush him. Mostly, though, I just rocked him, ran my fingers through his hair, and used my cuff to wipe away some of his tears.

Over time, the sobs grew quieter and quieter, and when they finally stopped, I realized he’d cried himself to sleep.

Absolutely nothing could’ve forced me to move a muscle. I had no idea how long we’d sit there, but I would hold Drew while he slept until he was ready to get up.

If this was who Drew truly was, then I wanted as much of him as I could get.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Drew said before he shoved himself off my chest.

His eyes were a mixture of horror and sleepiness, but I thought he’d never looked better. Between the messy hair, puffy eyes, and wrinkled shirt, I thought he looked real, and I liked it better than the polished man he usually presented to the world.

We’d fallen asleep. Well, he’d been asleep. For about thirty minutes, I’d had the distinct pleasure of holding him while he slept. It was a nice night for spending time outside, and I’d allowed my mind to wander, thinking about what it would be like if he were around more often. I think I’d like it.

“Don’t apologize. I liked being the big spoon.”

I leaned forward until our mouths were only an inch or two apart. Drew looked at me with searching eyes, and I hope I answered every silent question with steady acceptance.

“I’m sorry about getting your shirt wet,” Drew whispered.