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“Your novels?” He smirked. “Bullshit. At least try to make your lie sound real.”
Her laughter ceased. A scowl replaced the jolly expression she’d had moments ago.
“Like when you told me you thought I was Keisha? Because that shit sounded real!”
Instinct had him wanting to walk over to her and pull her into his arms. But he didn’t want to upset her. At least, they were talking about the root of their problems. His infamous lie about thinking she was Keisha when they slept together.
He sighed. “You wore your feelings on your sleeve. I never doubted you wanted me, but I was scared to tell you I was in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I didn’t want us to end up like my parents, young and resentful of each other. I wanted to build my career and prepare myself for you. I wanted to be able to give you everything your heart desires.”
“My heart desired you,” she admitted, hurt written all over her face. “And I did everything possible to get you to recognize me. Then, we had that night together.” She paused, closing her eyes, remembering. Her voice sounded pained when she continued, “The next morning, I woke up feeling like all my dreams had come true because they had. I finally got to express the way I felt about you, Caleb. But what you did crushed me. I became jaded about finding love. So, I’ve poured my desires into fictional characters, creating the kind of love I once wished for myself.”
He walked over and sat on the bed beside her. “We can have that kind of love. I want that too.”
She rolled her eyes away from his. “Well, don’t fault me if I don’t believe you.”
“And don’t fault me if I think Cole is real.”
“Think what you want. But I never meant to hurt you by writing sex scenes. You snuck on my computer at your own will. However, you intentionally hurt me when you tainted the best night of my life by minimizing it to a case of mistaken identity.”
“Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
She shrugged. “What’s done is done.”
“Well, can I at least be your biggest fan? What’s your pen name, so I can start reading some of your books?”
“I’m not comfortable sharing that with you yet.”
“Yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Does that mean you will be comfortable sharing it with me in the future?”
“I said what I said. Take from it what you want.”
“I will do that.”
“Fine.”
“Back to your writing.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I scanned a few of your sex scenes when you left your laptop on the kitchen table. They aren’t realistic,” he lied. He hadn’t had the opportunity to read anything but the letter her heroine wrote to the fictional character Cole, who’d lived rent-free in his head all day.
“Whatever. You wish someone did the things to you that my heroines do to their men.”
“You know what they say, truth is better than fiction, or something like that.”
“Whatever.” She waved him off.
“I can create better sex scenes than the ones you write.”
“Right.”
“I can prove it to you.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, her voice low. “And how do you think you can prove it to me?”
