Fat Cat Liar

I walk her to the door. “Text me when you’re ready and I’ll come get you.”

She nods and I watch until she disappears into her apartment. In those five seconds, I try to think of how to explain this.

“Before I lose my ever living shit, tell me it’s a huge fucking coincidence her last name is Palmer.” His voice is packed with venom and fury.

I turn to face him and brace. “It’s not a coincidence.”

“Does she have any idea who you really are?”

I shake my head.

“You are one nasty son of a bitch. It makes sense now. Your evasiveness, disappearance from social media, the crazy ideas about the building plans. You’re using her.”

“It may have started out—”

“Don’t tell me how it started out. She described it perfectly. You couldn’t get your furniture through the door? That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. You are the most spatially gifted person I’ve ever met. I’ve seen you actually fit a square peg in a round hole. You’re an architect for God’s sake. From the moment she met you, you’ve been lying to her.”

I stay quiet, shame and guilt clawing at me.

“My God, Lawson, what are you thinking? You have the talent and expertise to create a world-class design. Why would you stoop to this level? I know you’re competitive, but this is below even your standards. Thinking only of yourself and your precious fucking career. That sweet, beautiful woman is in love with you, and you’re using her! How do you even live with yourself?” By the time he’s done, his face is red and his chest heaving.

My own anger boils to the surface, and I lash back at him. “Stop saying I’m using her!”

“It’s the truth!”

“I’m in fucking love with her!”

He twitches, shock spreading across his face. “The fuck you say?”

I stumble to my sofa and sink down, my heart racing so fast I drop my head and breathe deeply to try to gain control. There’s a ringing in my ears and head, anxiety spiking high. When I feel that I can talk without losing my mind, I tell him what I’ve been holding inside.

“Clay, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to be a stuck-up socialite that lives on her daddy’s money and makes it easy to dislike her. The idea was to befriend her, get her to talk about herself and her life. It was an in-and-out plan. I wanted to know what makes her old man tick and what I could implement in our design that would make it stick out from the rest. It was completely professional. There would be no feelings, no loyalty, and I’d go back to my life. Everything was precise, right down to my goodbye. She wouldn’t care.

“The night I met her, it was all blown to hell. She is nothing like I imagined. There’s not a socialite bone in her body. She’s the antithesis of the woman I created in my mind. Her face peeked around her door, and those green eyes landed on mine. It was a jolt to my system. She was wearing sweats, her hair tied to the top of her head, and not a stitch of makeup. I was screwed. It’s not even her beauty. She’s kind, funny, sweet, and smart. She owns a thriving business and helps people who have been affected by cancer. And when I say she’s smart, I mean brilliant.”

He exhales loudly, the sound hissing through the air. I raise my eyes to his and see his expression has changed, the stony hatred and judgment vanished. I should stop talking, but for the first time in two months, a weight is lifting.

“I tried to walk away. It was after you came to my office and saw the design. Something happened, and I knew it was time. Things were getting too deep. I packed a bag and went back to my loft. I was going to figure out a way to make a clean break. I bought a bottle of Jack and sat on the floor, planned to get drunk and channel my old self. The same guy who fucked for fun, lived hard, and didn’t give a shit about the consequences. Greer would despise t

hat person. I’d move out, get on with my life, and never run into her again.”

I draw in a deep breath and keep going.

“Then I looked around. It was so cold and sterile. I stared at the walls, trying to remember a life before Greer, and nothing came to mind. I had small visions of growing up and our family and friends. But everything else faded away. My heart started to beat so hard I was certain I was having a heart attack, but it was a full-blown panic attack. I passed out cold. Something supernatural started to happen. Out of nowhere, I could smell the scent of her all around. My fingertips prickled with the feeling of the silky smoothness of her skin and hair. Then I pictured her that morning. We woke up, and the first thing she did was give me her blinding smile. Her eyes sparkled so bright, I swear I could see my reflection. Instantly, I calmed down. I left the liquor and drove back here with a physical need to hold her. I knew then, I am in love with her.”

My body deflates, and I fall back, scrubbing my hands over my face.

“Jesus Christ, Lawson, what the hell have you done?”

“I’ve fucked up beyond repair.” I answer honestly.

“Hasn’t she asked you about your career, your life?”

“She thinks I’m in construction with Dad. As far as she knows, you are in finance.”

“At least there’s one truth.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, staring at the ceiling.