Twisted Truths: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2

by Azzi, Gina

  “Okay, Dad. You?”

  “Not too shabby. How’s the movie?” he asks easily.

  I smile in spite of myself. Dad knows more than anyone how awful it feels to be pitied. The note of worry hovers over his words, but he’s trying his hardest to give me the normalcy I crave.

  “It’s coming along really well. Brooke and Eli,” my voice cracks on his name and I wince, hoping Dad doesn’t notice, “are stellar together.”

  “Well, there’s a history there, right?”

  “Look at you. I didn’t know you read Gossip,” I tease.

  Dad chuckles, “Spending too much time with Charlie.”

  “How is she?”

  “She misses you. A lot. She’s been working extra hours lately, but she isn’t her usual peppy self.”

  “Dad,” I warn, not wanting to hear any more talk of everyone worrying and obsessing over me.

  Dad laughs again, “It’s not all about you, Zo. I was just going to say that she had some kind of fight with Evan.”

  “Evan?”

  “Yeah, the lawyer.”

  “Eli’s brother?”

  “You’re mentioning Holt a lot, Zoe. And calling him Eli?” He lets the question hang between us and I know he knows.

  “We were dating,” I say carefully.

  “Were?”

  Sighing, I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know what we are. It’s complicated.”

  “Because he’s an actor?”

  “Because I’m me.”

  Dad’s silent for several long seconds, trying to gauge all the things I’m not saying. He’s a master at picking up on the subtleties and subtext. “Give him a minute, kid. Not everyone is as adept at handling grief as we are.”

  My throat squeezes and I clear it, unable to respond. Drawing in a sharp breath, I try to calm my wayward emotions.

  I know Dad is right. Eli needs time to process. To understand my diagnosis. To understand my motivations for lying to him.

  But it still hurts. Being alone when I don’t want to be hurts deeper than I thought it would.

  “I miss you, Zoe,” Dad finally says. “It’s all going to be okay.”

  “I may come home.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Don’t make any decisions before getting a good night’s sleep.”

  I snort. “Yeah. You’re not mad about Eli?”

  “I’m not mad about anything, Zo. Sure, I wish you’d told me. I knew something was up, and I knew it was a guy, and I knew you were talking to Charlie, so I figured I had to trust that you were making the best decisions for yourself.”

  “You’re quite evolved for an old-school dad sometimes.”

  Dad chuckles, the sound zapping some of the emotions I’m struggling with until I grin. “Yes, well, not having you here has been eye-opening for me too.”

  I sit down at my desk chair. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, maybe I relied on you too much, Zo. Maybe the distance has been good for both of us to navigate life on our own for a bit, not place so much pressure or all of our burdens on each other. You need to have your own life, and I need to give you the space to do that, to grow into the life you want.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Don’t say it, Zoe. You’re not dying. Do you hear me? I won’t allow it.”

  “So much for evolved,” I mutter, and Dad snorts. “I miss you, Dad. I’ll let you know what I decide.”

  “Take some time to think about it. Keep your appointments, keep in touch with Dr. Salinas, and we will figure everything out.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

  “I love you, Zoe.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Call Charlie. She could use a friend right now.”

  “I’m already on it,” I admit, tapping out a text to my best friend.

  “Talk to you tomorrow, then.” Dad says, then ends our call.

  I place my phone on the desk, frowning as I note that Charlie had read my text but hasn’t messaged back.

  After deciding everyone can use some space, I take a hot shower, wrap myself up in a fluffy robe, and crawl into bed.

  The next morning, there’s still no response from Charlie.

  And no messages from Eli.

  12

  Eli

  I catch the tennis ball easily as it bounces off the wall.

  Release, thud, catch. Release, thud, catch.

  I’ve already made calls to specialists around the United States. Should I reach out to a contact in Europe? Maybe France?

  Release, thud, catch.

  Preventative surgery. BRCA mutation. Fertility concerns.

  Release, thud, catch.

  Why the hell didn’t she tell me?

  Catch. I grip the ball in my hand, squeezing it hard and swearing loudly.

  “Guess you spoke to Zoe,” Harlow’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

  I turn, glaring at her. “How could you keep that from me?” I know my anger is misplaced, but I need to unload my fury—no, my fear is more accurate, on someone.

  Harlow sighs sympathetically and takes the tennis ball from my hand. “Eli, it wasn’t my story to tell. Not my truth to share. But now that you know—”

  “She shouldn’t be here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She needs to be with the best doctors. Specialists. Her family.” I throw an arm toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, paradise, and wish I could shatter the glass with the damn tennis ball. “She has no support system here. What is she even thinking?”

  Harlow sits next to me on the couch. “Maybe she doesn’t want to leave.”

  “What the hell could possibly be keeping her here? Me?” I slam my hand against my chest and Harlow winces. “I’m not worth her fucking health, Harlow. Her goddamn future.” I stand, pacing back and forth in front of the windows.

  I wanted to be alone. Needed it. I couldn’t bear to look at my girl’s beautiful face and not want to rip the Earth right off its fucking axis.

  Preventative mastectomy. Preventative oophorectomy. Lobular carcinoma in situ.

  But now that my thoughts have had time to stack on top of each other, now that my energy is twitching in my veins like a damn heroin user, I’m ready to unleash on whoever’s around to absorb my turmoil. As usual, it’s Harlow. One of the many perks of her job.

  She sits quietly, her expression carefully blank though her eyes give away the empathy she feels. Zoe is her friend too, and I’m sure she’s just as worried as I am. Of course, she’s better at hiding it. Handling it. Whatever.

  “She’s…fuck,” I spit out. “She’s everything.”

  Harlow nods.

  “I don’t deserve her. I never have. All this time, I’ve been making her jealous, blowing her off, messing with her head. And why? Because I felt like she scorned me? She’s…Jesus, she’s trying to manage a diagnosis like…” I trail off, my voice breaking. Turning away from Harlow, I hang my head. “I don’t fucking deserve her.”

  Silence stretches between us, inflating the space with a false sense of security, of calm. The eye of the storm before I go off the rails and trash the penthouse.

  That’s what I really want to do. I’m looking for a fight, a release for the energy sparking in my fingertips, pumping in my temples. If Connor were here, he’d lead me to a punching bag.

  But Harlow’s not Connor. She sits quietly, giving me a moment to regain my cool. Except I can’t. How the hell can I be cool when Zoe’s dealing with cancer, or pre-cancer, or whatever the hell it is? “I don’t even understand what she fucking has.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  My chuckle echoes, hard and humorless, “I can’t keep her here.”

  “She wants to be here, Eli. If she didn’t, she would have left already.” I hear her stand from the couch. Her presence shadows mine as she moves behind me. A soft hand on my forearm. “Eli, give her more credit than this. She’s capable of m
aking her own decisions.”

  I turn, quirking an eyebrow. “She’s making the wrong one by staying.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. She shouldn’t be here, Harlow. She shouldn’t be training me, pushing herself to the limit every single day. How am I supposed to show up to train, to work out with her, seeing her struggle with weights or unable to catch her breath?”

  Harlow raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s about you?” .

  “Fuck off, Low. You know that’s not how I meant it.”

  “Eli, just give her a minute. It’s been a lot for her to process, and she’s just started confiding in people…me, you, her dad, about her diagnosis. Stop trying so hard to solve the issue, to do what you think she needs, and try letting her tell you what she needs.”

  I scrub a hand down my face, hearing Harlow’s words but barely listening.

  I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her. Even if I have to give her up now that I just got her back. Her future is my priority, with or without me.

  “Eli?” Harlow nudges me.

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard you. She should take some time and think about everything. And so should I. Let her know today’s session is cancelled.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I’m going for a run.” I brush past Harlow and swipe my earphones and phone from the kitchen island. Already clad in shorts and sneakers, I head straight for the beach. The sunlight, ocean view, and bright colors do nothing to ease the anxiety mounting in my chest.

  I start down the beach at a slow pace, gradually kicking it up until I’m in a full run. I run until my heart feels like it’s going to explode. Until my shorts stick to me like a second skin. Until my body is slick with sweat and my throat is as dry as the Sahara.

  Even then, my mind is consumed with worry for my Violet.

  * * *

  It’s past midnight when I slip the key for Zoe’s room, one she left in my suite weeks ago, into the lock and push inside.

  I’ve done every single thing I can think of to distract myself from Zoe all day long. It didn’t help, because here I am, longing for her.

  She stirs in her bed but doesn’t wake up.

  Shadowing her doorway like a fucking creeper, I watch her sleep. I breathe in the peaceful expression on her face. I grin at the soft snore that whistles on every exhale. I memorize the soft curves of her body.

  I can’t lose her.

  As the door closes behind me, I toe off my sneakers and drop my wallet and phone on top of her desk. I climb into bed beside her, wrap my arms around her, and gather her into my chest.

  “Eli?” she whispers, sleep and wonder heavy in her tone.

  “Shh, baby, just sleep.”

  “What are you doing here?” She tries to turn but I hold her closer, breathing in the coconut scent of her hair.

  “Missed you, Violet. Always do.”

  “Me too.” She snuggles deeper, her hair tickling my chin. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Shh, stop. I could never hate you.” I kiss the back of her head, her words causing my chest to squeeze painfully. I could never hate her. Even when I wanted to, even before I knew the truth, I loved her too much.

  “Promise?” She turns fully this time, her eyes serious when they bore into mine.

  “Swear it.” I drop my mouth to hers, pressing a kiss against her lips.

  The kiss lingers. Zoe deepens it immediately, her hands tracking up my chest, her fingers wrapping around the tops of my shoulders. My forehead touches hers as her tongue slips inside my mouth, lazy with sleep, hungry for more.

  I kiss her reverently, wholly. I kiss her with all the words I can’t say and all the truths I keep denying. My hand settles on her back, splayed wide to hold her against my chest. She moans, breathless and needy, as our kissing escalates to touching, exploring. Accepting.

  The blankets of her bed wrap us in a cocoon, protected from the world, sheltered from its harsh realities.

  Her skin is soft under my touch, pebbling with goosebumps. My body burns under her hands, desperate for more.

  We move, slow and languid, an ancient rhythm that’s never felt so enchanted, so singularly mine. Hers. Ours.

  I make love to Zoe Clark like it’s the only chance I’ll have. Because it is. She breaks apart in my arms, and I shatter under her gaze. We ride the high together and let the silent serenity of the night wrap us in promises we’re too scared to make.

  She shifts closer, erasing the space between us, her back against my chest. I hold her close, my arms curling around her frame, shielding her from everything except the things that matter most, the things I can’t protect her from no matter how desperately I long to.

  I close my eyes, letting the moment, this moment, imprint on my soul. The warmth of her body as it seeps into mine, the caress of her hair as she snuggles into sleep, the pout of her mouth as she drifts into dreams.

  She’s an angel. My angel. I hold her until sleep claims her once more.

  “I’m going to tell you a secret, Violet,” I whisper into her ear, but she doesn’t stir again. “Three secrets. Three truths.”

  I pause, holding my breath. Her eyelids flutter but her breathing never changes. I kiss the spot under her ear and watch her beautiful face as I tell her the truth. “I’m a selfish, arrogant man. I want to keep you, but I can’t. I love you. I love you so goddamn much I don’t know what to do with it.”

  I hold Zoe for the rest of the night and slip from her bed when dawn colors the sky in pastels.

  I hope when she opens her eyes, my love is only a part of her dreams.

  13

  Zoe

  My bed is empty in the morning. Empty and cold, and I hate that Eli left before we had a chance to talk. I know my diagnosis is a lot to process, but it’s more than that. There’s also us to consider. Me and him and our messy, convoluted feelings for each other.

  Every time one of us pushes, the other stumbles but doesn’t entirely let go.

  Does last night mean he’s still holding on? Or was last night his way of telling me goodbye?

  I pull myself from bed and throw myself into a hot shower. Today, Eli and I will talk. I’ll answer all his questions, explain all my thoughts, tell him the truth about my feelings. Today is the day I admit how much I love him, how scared I truly am, how I can’t give him what he wants, and how much that guts me.

  Today, I will be brave.

  After blow-drying my hair, I apply some make up and slip into a sundress. I’m dressing for success here, turning a meaningful page as I begin writing the next chapter of my life.

  I pick up my phone to message Eli when I see the reminder to meet Laurence for breakfast. Shooting off a text to Harlow to join us, I decide Eli can wait. After all, he left without saying goodbye. Maybe he needs more time to process everything?

  I grab my purse, leave my hotel room, and head into Victoria.

  “Mon amie, bonjour,” Laurence greets me as I step into the restaurant.

  “Tell me you know how to make waffles,” I grin, dropping my purse on the bar and leaning over to kiss his cheek in greeting.

  “The American kind. With strawberries and powdered sugar.”

  “You mean Belgian?”

  “I mean American pretending they’re from Belgium,” he smirks, stepping back to pour me a mimosa.

  Laughing, I slide onto a barstool. “Are you working?”

  “Nope. I’m joining you in just a moment.”

  “So am I!” Harlow announces her arrival, striding to the bar in a denim miniskirt, tank top, and sandals.

  “You look cute.” I wrap her in a hug as she stops next to me.

  “I look like a hot mess. Eli had me running errands from the moment I woke up.”

  “How’s he doing?” I pull back so I can read her expression. “He cancelled our workout again.”

  “He’s…processing,” Harlow says slowly, smiling her thanks to Laurence as he hands her a mimosa. “He’s worried about you, and
his mind is spiraling in a million different directions.” She sits, clinking her glass against mine and Laurence’s before taking a sip. “When Eli is unsure, angry, or confused, he lashes out.”

  “He came to my room last night,” I admit, taking a large gulp.

  Laurence’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Harlow just sighs.

  “What? Why the sigh?” I press .

  Harlow and Laurence exchange a look. My palms grow clammy as my nerves rattle and my doubts surge forward. So much for being brave. “Guys, just tell me.”

  Harlow squeezes my hand. “Don’t read into anything with Eli right now. He’s all over the place. I know he’s worried about you. I know he cares about you. But I honestly don’t know what he’s thinking, and I don’t want you to end up hurt.”

  “Hurt?” I scoff, finishing off my mimosa. Laurence jumps up to fix me another one. “How the hell could I hurt more than I have the past few weeks?”

  My question hangs in the air, large and looming.

  Harlow grips my hand tighter. Laurence hands me a new beverage. A plate piled high with waffles is placed in front of me. But my appetite has vanished, my self-recrimination dashing my hunger away.

  “Just talk to him,” Harlow suggests, cutting my waffles for me like a child.

  “Do you think he’s done with me?”

  “I don’t know, Zo, honestly,” she blows out, slathering my breakfast with syrup from a small decanter. “Look at me. I’m still pining for a man who gives it to me so damn good in the bedroom but won’t give me the time of day outside of it.”

  “Well, I’m looking at you both,” Laurence says with a smile. “And I think you’re both strong, capable women who just happen to be beautifully beguiling.”

  Harlow snorts as I crack a smile. “What would we do without you, Laurence?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes serious, “I honestly don’t know.”

  Harlow spears a waffle and holds the fork out to me. “Eat up, Zoe. I’m sure you’ll hear from Eli today. I just have no idea what he’s going to tell you.”