Liar Liar

‘Everett, get out.’

‘No, you stay. I’m out of here.’

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ I growl, grabbing her arm as she turns.

Her gaze flicks pointedly down to where I’ve creased the sleeve of her dress. ‘Let. The. Fuck. Go.’

‘Everett,’ I repeat.

‘Got it.’ He begins to gather the grease-stained burger bag in one hand, the half-eaten burger in the other. As the door closes behind him, I unfurl my fingers, almost surprised she hadn’t pulled away.

‘I am at a loss to explain what just happened,’ I begin as the blood in my veins seethes. ‘But this isn’t about lunch or the way you wear your hair, or your terse texts.’

‘My terse texts?’ she retorts, folding her arms. ‘Let me tell you, yours were hardly a barrel of laughs to read. Demanding and childish and—’

‘Let me finish.’

‘Was it one woof for yes and two for no?’ Her response is sweet yet full of malice, but I brought it on myself. And I won’t be baited.

‘I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.’ Her lips purse, but I carry on. ‘But I was provoked.’

‘Pretty sure that’s the excuse all bullies use.’

‘I was provoked, and you are doing the provoking,’ I continue, not rising to her tone. ‘But more importantly, you’ve been avoiding me.’

‘I am not avoiding you,’ she replies immediately. ‘I told you, yesterday I had a headache. I was tired.’

‘That’s not it.’ And I feel it in my bones as I step into her, forcing her to tip her head back to look at me. Is that confusion in her eyes or regret? ‘Friday was, as always, wonderful. Yesterday? Today? You’re not the same.’ I wrap a wisp of her hair around my finger as she angles her attention away. ‘What’s going on, Rose? Are we done here?’ My words are cool, yet my insides burn. I both desire and dread her answer as something inside me screams that this isn’t the end. It isn’t over because I’m not ready to let go. ‘Tell me what I can do.’ To make this go away. To make you look at me like you did before the weekend.

‘I’ve done something.’ The words fall in a rush, her eyes rising slowly to mine, this time full of tears. ‘I know everyone does it sometimes, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling terrible.’

A fist suddenly twists my innards in its grip. ‘Tell me. What did you do on Saturday?’ As my hands grip her shoulders, I’m surprised my tone sounds so even given the sudden eruption of violence bursting in my head.

Has she—I can’t contemplate it.

Whoever it is, I swear I will fucking kill them—I’ll make her watch as I ruin them.

‘Saturday?’ A tiny line forms between her brows.

‘Tell me,’ I grate out, my grip tightening as I ignore the hypocrite I am.

‘But what has Saturday got to do with anything?’

‘Remy. Avez-vous un moment . . .’

At the sound of Benoît’s voice, Rose springs from my arms and moves toward the wall of windows as though she’s discovered something of great interest there.

‘No, Ben, I don’t have a moment. And I don’t quite know why my office has suddenly become la Gare du Nord!’ With each word, my voice becomes louder until the name of the Paris train station roars across the office.

‘My apology. But your assistant isn’t at her desk,’ he offers, unmoved by my outburst. ‘And I did knock. Perhaps you didn’t hear it.’ His eyes move to Rose; a silhouette in the window. ‘Perhaps you were busy.’

‘I’m going to have a better lock put on the door. One that engages immediately upon closure. ‘I don’t have time—’

‘Rose?’ Benoît fills her name with such surprise. ‘What a place to find you!’

She stiffens, though she begins to slowly turn.

‘Where did you disappear to on Saturday?’

She raises her chin, her arms still folded, and I notice how her fingers make deep indents in the sleeve of her dress. ‘I went home. With Fee. You remember Fee? And Charles?’

As her attention moves to me, I bite back the torrent of recrimination forcing it back down my throat. I don’t give a fuck who she was with—who will swear blind she had nothing to do with him. I refuse to have this conversation with him here, though I will have answers. She’s done something. Something everyone does. I know deep in my gut that my cousin is involved somehow, and nothing good can come from that.

‘I do remember them. Such a shame we didn’t finish our talk.’ He’s all agreement and openness; an act he’s thoroughly perfected. ‘Remy, you remember when I said there was a beautiful new member of staff?’ His attention skates back to Rose, to where she stands as still as a statue. ‘I think someone has been hiding you. What department do you work in, chérie?’

‘This is my office, not a coffee shop,’ I bark, my hands gripping the back of the chair. ‘Pick up girls elsewhere unless you want to find yourself facing a sexual harassment suit.’