Tequila Rose by Willow Winters (any book recommendations .TXT) 📗

already breaking in half. We’re only friends, I remind myself. This was bound to happen. We had a good run … the thought lingers on the tip of my tongue.

“I didn’t answer him. I left.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Do you want me to tell him no?” he asks me. Like his life decisions should be in my hands.

“Why would I want that?” I question him back even though my throat feels suddenly so much smaller than it should. Tighter and dry.

“I don’t want you to be upset if I—”

“We’re just friends,” I say, cutting him off and reach forward for my laptop. “It’s totally fine,” I add with as upbeat a tone as possible. “If you really like her, though—”

“I don’t even know her,” he blurts out, interrupting me and he immediately sounds defensive, like it’s a fight. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t imagine either of those possibilities right now so I shush him and look him dead in the eye when I tell him, “Seriously, Robert. It’s fine. We’re just friends and I’m not upset.”

“Yeah,” he answers, his gaze falling from mine to the floor, “just friends.”

Present day

It’s taking everything in me not to cry right now. The radio is barely on, but it’s on nonetheless, playing a love song and mocking me as I lean back in the driver’s seat and focus on taking deep breaths. The keys are still in the ignition even though the car is parked in my designated spot for the development.

I didn’t tell my boss, Mandy, that I locked up shop for the day and came right home. I have no idea what she’ll do or say when she finds out but I imagine I can’t confess to her and that she’ll understand. I saw a man who I loved and have been sleeping with for years while on a date with a man who might be the father of my child. I haven’t told either of them so I had to get the hell out of there before my little girl comes home so I can try to pull myself together.

Yeah, I can’t do that. Mandy doesn’t care about the mess I created. And yet, I did it anyway and I’m already coming up with another lie to add onto the pile. This one is the first for my boss: I felt absolutely ill out of nowhere and I had to go home. I suppose it’s not a complete lie. I could throw up right now just thinking about the look on Robert’s face when he saw me with Brody.

For being such a bad liar, I sure have told a lot of them to Brody.

I imagine what would have happened had I stayed seated there and a soap opera plays out in my head. Entertainment for the entire town.

It still hurts. It all hurts right now. Brody sees right through me. He sees that I’m a liar. I could see it in his eyes and it freaking hurts but that’s what I deserve, isn’t it? All these lies piling up. White lie or not. All I could think when he looked at me, even now when I close my eyes and see his handsome smile curve down, is: he’s never going to believe me about Bridget. And if he does, he’ll never forgive me.

The soap opera would have ended with me in tears and a broken heart. I knew it, sitting there and glancing between the two men. I can take my karma, and I will. Just not in front of everyone else. Please, whoever is up there, listening to this prayer, please let me go through it without an audience this time. Please. I’ll take what’s coming to me, but I just don’t want everyone to see my heartbreak again.

The console clicks as I open it, rummaging through the clutter of old sunglasses and sunblock for a napkin. I just need something to dab at the corner of my eyes in the rearview mirror.

I’m so caught up with just breathing and gathering my thoughts that I don’t hear the heavy thud of a car door beyond my pathetic sniffle.

It’s not until he calls my name that I’m aware there’s anyone outside my car door.

“Mags, please.” My chest tightens, painfully so. “Mags.” The way he says my name cuts through me, like he’s sad for me, drawing it out and before I can respond, my door is opened.

“I need a minute, Robert.” It’s all I can get out, balling up the napkin, and struggling with my seat belt. He was halfway crouched down to meet me at eye level but my words bring him to a halt. He takes a single step back even though the door is still open and his hand is on top of it.

“Did he hurt you?”

“What?” With the keys still in the ignition, the car scolds me, but yells nearly as loudly as my inner thoughts do to confess to Robert, right now. “Hurt me?” My brow scrunches as I rip the keys out of the ignition and grab my purse off the passenger seat.

Robert takes another half step back so I can get the heck out of the hot car. Deep breaths. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

I can barely look Robert in the eyes. When I do, there’s confusion, but mostly hurt. He knows darn well I was on a date. He’s never seen me with another man. Not once. The next deep breath is a torturous one as I shut the door to my car and make my way up the stairs. With every click of my heels there’s a