Page 4 of The Liar in Room 5

In my rush to get home this morning, I’d skipped my skincare routine, so now my skin felt tight and dry. Crow’s feet had appeared in the last few months no matter what new serum or cream I tried, but my hair was on point. There was no sign of thinning as yet. My dad hadn’t been able to give me much, but there was a lot to be said for his good hair. The cut was professional but long enough that Jonathan could fuss about brushing it out of my eyes. He especially liked doing it when we were on his boat.

With a sigh, I splashed water on my face before admitting I’d have to go back into the kitchen. Jeanne needed to lay out the news I already knew—I was out on my ass.

Awesome. Wow.

If only I had the money of King George…

Ugh, now wasn’t the time to quote lyrics from musicals I wouldn’t be attending again anytime soon. Since my current predicament wouldn’t be magically removed from my life, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and go back to the kitchen.

Well, hell.

Jeanne was still at the sink. My bags had made their way from the front door where I’d dropped them to a pile by the back door. I supposed this meant I’d be allowed to keep my clothes. It was a small thing, but it made me feel slightly better about the whole ordeal.

“Thank you for bringing my bags in here.”

Jeanne nodded and said, “Mr. Waite wouldn’t like Kayden becoming upset. He’s a sensitive one.”

“Kayden’s my replacement?”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed with a definitive nod, but I heard the pity and sympathy in her voice too, which was its own kind of humiliation. “Where are you going to go?”

“Truthfully?” I asked.

She studied me like I was a specimen on display, but my only answer was a shrug. There was no one to call, nowhere to crash, and no one who’d likely care anyway. “I don’t know.”

“Then it doesn’t matter where you end up.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” I laughed harshly.

“Andrew, you had to know this was how it would end.” Jeanne said it so plainly that I had to decipher the words for their actual meaning. It was like she was speaking in code, but only one of us understood it.

“That my boyfriend would dump me?”

“Boyfriend…? C’mon, Andrew, we both know Jonathan was never that.”

“Uh, no, actually, I very much did not know that. I lived in his home and slept in his bed. I…I…had my own stocking at Christmas, for Pete’s sake. A stocking means family.” Her bafflement at my bafflement baffled me.

“Yes, you were his companion, and now he has a new one. You knew that would happen eventually.” She hesitated, then added, “For the record, I bought that stocking so the mantel wouldn’t look lopsided.”

“How could I know that?” I retorted.

“How could you not?” She looked genuinely confused, which made two of us.

I alternated between squirming and preening under her scrutiny because I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to land.

“Lord, save me from clueless men. I know someone who can help.”

“Thanks for the ride.”

The Uber driver nodded his acknowledgment but was too distracted by his next pickup to bother answering. I didn’t blame him. His part of the job was over, and now I was just wasting his time. There likely was a metaphor in that, but I was too tired to piece it together. Every step took more effort than I wanted to put into it.

Well, damn.

Anything was preferable to walking up the stairs, knocking on the door, and admitting I was an abject failure with nowhere else to go, so I took a few minutes to study my surroundings. I was like a writer trying to avoid actual writing, but at least the scenery was a nice distraction. The grounds were gorgeous. The house was lovely. The land was quiet, and the only thing out of place was me. Except I wasn’t out of place. My luggage was fancy. My clothes were on point. My hair was excellent, my world was falling apart, and now, oh shit, the door was opening.

“You’ve made it. We’ve been expecting you.” A smoothly masculine voice wafted down the stairs from inside the open door.

The back lighting kept me from seeing him clearly, but the voice was firm and kind, which was good enough for me. They were standing there waiting for me, and so, with a sigh I felt to my toes, I picked up my luggage and made my way up the steps, huffing and puffing because it had been a while since I had carried anything heavier than a shopping bag. Was that why Jonathan kicked me to the curb?