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“Just a bit.” Her small laugh sounds through the phone. “Anyway, I have a few minutes before I’m back on set. Distract me. What are you up to?”
“Nothing much. Just about to go for a run I think.” I push my hand through my hair, a sick feeling coating my skin. Another lie to mark on the tally, but I can’t tell her, "Oh hey, your soon-to-be-husband is a father." That needs to be done in person.
“I wish I had time to jog. I haven’t been able to get any workouts in since I arrived. I’m going to have back fat in my dress at our wedding.”
“You’re going to look beautiful. You don’t need to change anything.” I step over to one of the rocking chairs on the porch and sit.
“You have to say that, you’re my fiancé.”
“I’m saying that because it’s true. Now when do you think you’ll be home?” Nausea rolls my stomach because once again, I’m asking so I can beat her back to LA, not because I’m an eager fiancé waiting to see his would-be bride.
“Well, despite the delays we’ve had with rain, I should still be home by the end of the week. If it changes, I’ll let you know.”
“Good. I'm glad.” And I am. I haven’t really had time to miss her, with everything going on over the past couple of days, but I’m looking forward to seeing her. Just not the part where I have to admit why I sought Lilah out in the first place and what I discovered once I did.
“I hope you’re ready to get down to all the wedding details once I return. We have a lot of decisions to finalize.”
“You just give me my marching orders and I’ll make sure it gets done.”
“You’re the perfect fiancée, you know that?” She giggles. “I’ve gotta run, they’re calling me back to set.”
“Okay, break a leg. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too.” I hit the red circle on my phone and slide it into my pocket.
I've officially crossed a line in my relationship with Adelaide. I’ve never lied to her before. Yeah, I never confessed to how horrid the conditions were growing up and what I had to do to survive back then, nor will I ever tell her about that night on the mountain… but I always considered that to be more withholding information than outright lying.
Now I’m a liar, which doesn’t make me much different from Lilah.
Chapter Fifty-two
LILAH
When Jimmy leaves to take the call from Adelaide, I peek out of my bedroom window to make sure that Monica is still next door with Eileen, playing with Charlie. A breath of relief leaves my lungs when her blonde ponytail flits behind her while she runs around the yard. I’m not sure if she’s chasing Charlie or if he’s chasing her, but she’s smiling and laughing.
Normally I wouldn’t feel the need to check on her, but Jimmy’s reappearance in my life has me wanting to keep her close. Jimmy thinks I should know he wouldn't take her, but kids are game-changers. I should know. I never thought I’d keep my child from her father.
I head back into the kitchen and concentrate on cleaning the counters and table. Turning on the kettle, I pretend I’m not bothered by the fact that he’s out on my porch, talking to the woman he’s going to marry in a few short months, if the tabloids are telling the truth. The woman who, six years ago, he swore he had no feelings for. Does she call him Jimmy now?
Once their relationship was officially in the press, a barrage of questions hit me. Did he care for her when we were together? Was something going on between them back then? What does he see in her? Does he feel more for her than he ever did for me?
All those same questions push at me now, demanding to be answered. I grit my teeth, centering myself to remember he’s not mine and never will be.
The kettle whistles. Jimmy’s not back yet, so I pour hot water into two mugs with the tea bags, not sure if he’ll want one or not but trying to be a good host. By the time I’ve done a final wipe of the counter, he still hasn’t returned, so I pour some milk into the mugs and carry them out to the front porch.
His back is to me, his front leaning against the railing with his hands out to his sides. His position bunches the muscles in his arms and his upper back, causing a flutter to wobble in my stomach—something I haven’t felt in longer than I can remember.
He’s an engaged man.
But our falling-out had nothing to do with me falling out of love with him, so rather than feel guilty about the feelings I still have for the man in front of me, I ignore them. “I brought you a tea.”
He faces me, his straight-line brow suggesting he’s worried. “Thanks.”
Our fingers brush against one another’s for a split second during the exchange, and our gazes meet. I look down and back away, sitting in the rocking chair on the far side of the porch. Jimmy follows, sitting in the one beside it.
“Things okay with Adelaide?” I ask when I shouldn’t. It will only bring up my own agitation over the fact they’re engaged.
