Beloved Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 3)

“Can’t wait to see you do it.” I kiss the top of her head. “Now, come on. We don’t have tons of time for our workout before we have to meet Isabel for lunch. Annihilate me, Ginger.”

Georgina flashes me a wide smile that makes my heart burst wide open. “You got it, Freddie Boy.” She hops up and heads to her closet, swishing her naked ass as she goes. And the minute she disappears, I grab my phone, eager to see what I’ve missed in my conversation with Josh and Henn.

Not surprisingly, my two best friends have roped their wives into our conversation, and all four of them have been littering our group chat with gifs—images of people popping champagne and jumping for joy and getting down on bended knee. Finally, I reach the end of the long text chain, and tap out a reply.

Me: Thanks for the enthusiasm, guys. I can’t wait to blow her away. CeeCee already said she’ll help me pick out a ring.

Kat: I’M SO EXCITED!!!

Me: Really? I couldn’t tell.

Hannah: When, when, WHEN are you going to ask her?

Me: I don’t know yet. Once I have the ring, I’ll take her somewhere with white sand beaches.

Henn: Josh, you owe me $1000.

Josh: No, the bet was RR getting married, not engaged. I don’t have to pay until RR actually says, “I do.”

Me: Josh, pay Henny on the bet now.

I look up. Georgina’s just now re-entered the bedroom in her workout gear, looking like a wet dream. And there it is again. Hello, wife. I return to my phone and quickly finish tapping out my text: Because, I assure you, the deed is as good as done.

Chapter 33

Reed

I’m in an upscale restaurant with Georgina. We’re sitting in a private dining room, awaiting Isabel. When she finally walks into the room, twenty minutes late, and sees me with Georgina at our table, her features contort with surprise.

“Reed?” Isabel says. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to sit in on the interview,” I say, rising and giving her a polite hug. “Also, to tell you some news, so you won’t hear it first on social media.”

Isabel looks anxious. “Okay.” She politely hugs Georgina. “Hello again. Nice to see you.”

“You, too.”

We take our seats at the linen-covered table, just as a server appears to take our drink orders.

“Water for me,” Isabel says.

“Why don’t we have martinis all around?” I suggest. “I think you might thank me later, when you hear what I have to tell you.”

Isabel’s face drops. She looks at Georgina. And then again at me. But since she’s an actress by trade, she forces a stiff smile and says, “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Martinis it is.”

When the waiter leaves, Georgina motions to me, giving me the floor. So, I put my elbows on the table and jump right in.

“I thought you should know Georgina and I are in a committed relationship. She’s the one I told you about at my party. The one I’m head over heels in love with. Actually, my love for her has only grown exponentially since that night.”

Isabel swallows hard, but otherwise remains stoic.

“Georgina lives with me,” I continue. “We’re as committed and serious as two people in love can possibly be.”

Well, that does it. Isabel can’t keep her poker face intact any longer. Her chin trembles. Her eyes flash with acute rejection. And I’m not surprised. How many times did Isabel declare her love for me over the years, and I told her I’m not cut out to say those words in return? “It’s nothing personal,” I’d always say. “I’ve never been in love. I’m not cut out for it.” How many times did Isabel say she wanted to move in with me, and I’d say, “I value my space and privacy too much to share my bed and home with anyone. It’s nothing personal.” How many times did Isabel say I “broke her heart” because I wasn’t capable of loving her the way she so clearly needed to be loved? And now, here I am, breaking her heart one last time—forcing her to hear that I’ve given everything she’s ever wanted from me to another woman. And not just any woman, but someone who’s Isabel’s physical opposite in every way. Plus, Georgina is ten years Isabel’s junior—a fact that’s probably hitting Isabel where it counts, considering how much she’s been using Photoshop lately to smooth away all signs of her actual humanity.

But it can’t be helped. As much as I don’t have any impulse to brutalize Isabel, she needs to understand, without a doubt, my heart is now irrevocably taken. Not to mention, I feel like I owe this moment to Georgina as my final act of penance.

“Why are you telling me this in front of her?” Isabel spits out. “Did she demand you do this, and let her watch, as some sort of test of your—”