“Yeah, the family. Your family. So, when are the big introductions going to take place? Seems a little overdue considering you two are cohabitating.”
I’m definitely regretting opening up to her now. Note to self: Anna’s vault is easily unlocked with copious amounts of wine.
“Babe, really?” Alex laughs as he moves a glass of water her way. Anna’s not done, though.
She ignores the water, turning to Alex and drunkenly waving her hand with dramatic flair. “Yes, really. What’s wrong with wanting to meet the family? Our third date was Sunday dinner at your mom’s house, in freaking Texas. We hadn’t even had sex yet, and there I was in your childhood home talking with your grandma about how your sisters liked to dress you like a girl.”
If Alex is embarrassed by her story, I don’t notice. My focus is on CJ right now. I put my hand on his and entwine our fingers before meeting his eyes. My brows and lips are squeezed tight and I give him the faintest shake of my head, hoping he’ll understand that I had no part in this. But my hope quickly fades, because just when I think he understands my silent message, he pulls his hand out from under mine and rests both arms on the table, out of reach from me.
We silently and separately get ready for bed, respectful of each other’s space, until we’re lying in the dark, on opposite sides of the mattress, facing opposite walls. Even though he’s only inches away, I couldn’t feel more alone. We’ve never done this before. Never gone to bed without saying, “I love you,” or kissing goodnight. Never fallen asleep without my head on his chest or his arms holding me close from behind. I’m shivering now, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m without his body heat or because I’m afraid of the damage that’s been inflicted, again, on our relationship. I need him to know how sorry I am for sharing our private business with friends. My mind is racing with the words I should’ve already said, the words I should be saying now. I need to fix this.
“CJ?” When I’m not met with an immediate response, I’m sure he’s fallen asleep.
But before I can expel a temporary sigh of relief, he answers. “Good night, Christina.”
I wake with a smile. Today is Saturday and CJ and I have the entire day to ourselves. But the second I roll over and my hand runs over empty, cool sheets, my smile dissolves as memories from last night wash over me.
I make my way out of the bedroom and immediately smell coffee. I slide my sock covered feet along the wood floor, but as I’m half way down the hall, I hear a whispered voice. Worried we have a guest, I quickly look myself over and consider throwing CJ’s sweatshirt on over my skimpy tank top, when I realize there’s only one voice coming from the room. CJ is on the phone. I’m sure he’s just whispering out of respect for his sleeping girlfriend, so I continue my way down the hall.
“You don’t think I know that, Nate? That’s why I called you,” CJ hisses out to his brother. It’s quiet as he listens intently, allowing me the opportunity to peek around the corner, just enough to see him pacing the length of the kitchen while pulling on his hair with his free hand. “I fucked-up with Christina, I know, all right. You don’t need to keep saying it. But what the hell am I supposed to do now? How do I put an end to this? Help me.” He releases those last two words on a strangled breath as his pacing comes to a halt at the far end of the kitchen. I’m barely able to see as he shakes his head in defeat while whispering, “It’s my own fault for letting this go on so long. I just … I just need to end it.”
I just need to end it.
I wrap my arms protectively around my middle as those words play on a loop again and again in my head. Fighting back the sudden chill that’s running the length of my spine, I take a deep breath, shake out my hands at my sides then walk the few steps into the living room, making my presence known. By the sober look on my face, he knows I’ve heard every word.
“Nate, gotta go.” He sets the phone down and swiftly walks my way.
I grit out, “Don’t.” The devastation in that single syllable causes him to stop instantly, just a few feet away. I bring my hands to my hips, looking away and shaking my head in disbelief as a pained laugh escapes me. “I am such a fool. Such a fucking fool.” I’m speaking to myself more than him.
“Christina …” There’s hesitance in his voice, like he’s approaching a scared child. But if that’s what he thinks of me right now, he couldn’t be more wrong.
My frame solid and tall, I turn my head his way. “I heard every word, CJ. Every. Single. Word.” Although quiet, the anger and hurt radiating from my body and dripping from my tone fills every corner of the room.
His hands up protectively, he pleads, “It’s not what you think, Christina. I swear to God. It’s not what you think. I lo …”
“Do not tell me you love me right now!” My chest heaving, I fight back the tears that are burning my eyes. I take a moment, then repeat myself, calming my voice. “Do not tell me you love me.”
His hands remain out, begging with every part of him. “Please, just give me a chance to explain. It’s not what it sounded like.”
“How do I put an end to this?” I pause and force him to listen to his own words. “I just need to end it.” He winces, his face pinched in pain, but I take a step toward him and continue, whispering harshly, “How long have you felt this way, CJ? Have you felt trapped to stay with me after Thomas died? Did you think I was too fragile?”
He boldly steps forward in protest. “No. Never Christina, never. You are one of the strongest people I know. If not the strongest.”
We stare each other down until I break the silence, speaking calmly, “Explain yourself. Give me anything to help me understand what you meant by those words. I beg you.”
I wait, allowing him an opportunity to dig himself out.
Wiping his hands down his face, he doesn’t take it.
I give him one more chance. “CJ? Please … ”
Even with his head dropped in apparent shame, he remains silent.
I walk to his room, slip on my shoes and grab my purse before returning to the living room to look for my jacket. I’m about ready to face the world in a thin tank top and no bra when I spot it on a chair and quickly cross the room to grab it. As I put it on, CJ snaps to life. He’s suddenly in my space, toe-to-toe, grabbing my shoulders and giving them a small shake. “Please don’t go Christina. Please. I don’t know how to do this without making it worse.”
Worse? I clench my jaw and look away as a few tears finally manage to break free. I jerk away from him and head for the door.
“Wait! Christina, Jesus Christ, wait!” I turn only my head. If I’m not worthy of an explanation, then that’s all he gets. He rushes up to me, holding my arms desperate to keep me in place. “I’ve completely fucked this up. It was never meant to happen like this. I don’t know the right words right now to make this better, but I think I know someone who does.” Frantic, he rushes back to the counter, grabs his phone and immediately dials a number. He walks towards me as it rings and stops right in front of me.
“Hello, Mom?”
Mom?
What. The. Hell?
I’m standing slack-jawed and shocked as CJ goes back and forth with his mom for a minute before handing the phone to me.
“Here, she wants to talk to you.” He holds it out, eager for me to take it.
I gingerly take it from his hand, stare at it, then him, then back at the phone again, before bringing it to my ear.
“Hello?” My voice shakes nervously.
“Hello, Christina? Oh my goodness! Finally, it’s about time I get some answers! All I know is my son comes home and announces he’s going to work in New York full-time. New York! I mean he couldn’t pick something closer to home? So, I knew. I knew there had to be a girl. And that’s you! The girl that’s got my son all tied up in knots, moving away and forgetting to call his parents. I have to practically beg him to come home. Speaking of which, when do we get to meet you? We absolutely need to meet you!”
Whoa. I don’t think I�
��ve ever heard one person say so much in such a short period of time. “Well … I …” But I’m not quick enough.
“How about this weekend? Is that too soon? We’re having a barbecue Saturday and you can meet everyone. Everyone! I should order more ribs. Do you like ribs?”
I switch the phone to my other hand, then wipe the sweat from my palm onto my pajama pants. “Um … this weekend would be great. Ribs, whatever is easy, Mrs. Whitford. I would love to finally meet you as well.”
“Please, call me Liz.”
“Okay … Liz. Oh, shoot!” I bring my hand to my head in frustration. “I have a family commitment Friday night and unfortunately I can’t get out of it. Maybe the following weekend?”
“Not a problem at all, sweetheart. Now that I think about it, we have plans on Friday night as well. Remind my son he needs to be home for that, would you?”
“Of course, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Hey, I have an idea.” She pauses in thought. “What if you come out Saturday morning instead? Maybe stay till Monday? All my family will be here for the barbecue—my sisters, their husbands and kids, we’ll swim and play Cards Against Humanity. Have you ever played it?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard of it. You mean the one with …”
“All the four letter words and graphic sex talk? Yep, that’s the one. It’s a great way to get to know people. You’ll love it!”
I turn and look at CJ, my mouth hanging as wide open as my eyes. “Oh … kay, that sounds great, Liz.”
“Excellent! Christina, we are so happy to meet you. All this time, we thought he was up to no good, then we find out about you. We couldn’t be happier! All right, sweetheart, I will have a big hug ready for you on Saturday! Be prepared to have some fun!”
“I look forward to it as well. Thank you so much for the invitation. Goodbye, Liz.”
When I hear her end the call, I pull the phone away from my ear and face CJ. “What the hell just happened?”
He smiles and motions towards the phone. “That, my beautiful girl, is what we in the family like to call, ‘Hurricane Elizabeth.’”
Stunned, I can’t help but speak slowly. “She wants me to play Cards Against Humanity with your family. The nurses talk about that game. Will they … will they want to talk about … sex and … you know.” I raise my brows, trying to will the words into his brain, but fail miserably.
“No, I don’t know. Talk about what?” He’s already looking amused and I haven’t even brought myself to say the words yet.
I whisper, even though we’re all alone. “You know … the back door.”
A laugh bubbles up his chest, but he clears his throat in an attempt to fight it down. “The back door? You mean …” he looks left then right before whispering, “anal?”
I put my hands up to quiet him, like someone may hear us in the otherwise empty apartment. “Shhh! CJ, stop! I can’t talk about that with your parents. Oh my God, what am I going to do?” My hands are flying wildly at my sides. “Maybe this was a bad idea? I shouldn’t go. But I told her I’d go. What do I do? I can’t talk about anal with your family!” I hide my face in his chest, frantic and thoroughly embarrassed by this conversation and the thought of what’s to come this weekend.
The panic has taken over any elation I momentarily felt, the words “graphic sex talk” in Liz’s kind, motherly voice swirling around my head. My body begins to vibrate with nervous energy, adding to my anxiety. The vibration slowly turns into shaking that’s building by the second until it turns into out-right laughter. I lift my chin and peer, eyes drawn to slits, into CJ’s. He tries to look away but I follow his movement and force him to look at me. “Are you laughing at me?” My annoyance only propels him into a full-on belly laugh. “This is serious, CJ!” This time I smack him in the arm, but his laughter only grows. He digs his face into my neck, trying to stifle the sound, but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the fact that I’m now ticked off. “Okay, enough. You can stop now. I get it. I’m hilarious.”
His shaking subsides, but his face stays in its place as he slowly begins to plant kisses up my neck, instantly tamping down my attitude. He keeps on the path, traveling along my jaw and finally to my lips. When he stops, his heated blue eyes meet my gray ones. “They’re going to love you, Christina. I mean it when I tell you, don’t worry about it. If anything, I should be the one freaking out. My mom is going to smother you, my sister is going to worship you, and with my aunts, uncles and cousins all there, well, I’m going to have to fight them just to see you. Actually, forget that. Because my grandpa will get one look at you, and probably ask you to marry him on the spot.”
The thought of being part of a healthy, happy, functional family changes my mood instantly. With my voice hopeful and eager, I sigh, “You really think so?”
“I know so. You better be prepared. You still have time to back out.” He leans back, watching to see if I might actually reconsider.
My smile explodes as wide as my face. “No way. I can’t wait.”
With all the excitement of talking to Liz and the frenzied anticipation of the weekend to come, I neglect to press him about the conversation with his brother.
I’m standing in the doorway of Grandmother’s dressing room, arms crossed, trying my best to rein in my agitation at her latest stunt. “There will be no discussion, Christina,” Grandmother firmly states as she rifles through the rack of gowns the stylist has sent over.
“Grandmother, I haven’t seen Katie in ages, and since I didn’t get to go to her wedding, I was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow night. In fact, she’s expecting me.” I take a step closer into her space, pressing her for an explanation.
Huffing in obvious annoyance, she pushes one elaborate gown aside after the other. “Don’t fool yourself, Christina. She’s only saying that because she was being nice. And you didn’t go to her wedding because she didn’t invite you. Somehow you keep forgetting that.”
When my family showed up without me at the wedding, Katie called the next day on the way to her honeymoon, hurt that I chose not to come. Apparently, Grandmother told her I had accepted another invitation against her wishes. Katie, understandably, was upset until I explained what really happened. Then we were both left hurt and angry, because in the end, I missed watching my friend walk down the aisle. And, once again, Grandmother won.
I look away and shake my head in disbelief before looking back to her. “Yet somehow I didn’t forget that you lied to Katie.”
Her body jerks. I hold my stance, staring her down and waiting for her to fire her venom back at me. Just as I’m bracing for the worst, she lifts a gown from the rack, inspects it, then returns it casually. As if I never spoke a word, she says, “It’s more important that you’re at the Stanford gala, representing the family and supporting our Alma Mater.”
I continue to stand in challenge before responding slowly, deliberately, “Fine, Grandmother. But I’ll be sure to call Katie and pass along my regrets personally.” Not missing my defiance, she stops what she’s doing and finally turns to look at me, fully, from top to bottom. I watch her lip lift in disgust, but instead of slinking away like usual, I meet her glare and raise my chin in challenge. When she finally gives in and turns back to the rack, breaking our stand-off, I turn on my heel and leave. I don’t fight her any further. Not because it’s futile, but because it’s where I’m headed Saturday, anyway. A fact she doesn’t need to know.
I manage to read an entire novel on my flight to California and still fit in a nice nap before heading to the hotel to shower and wait on my hair and make-up team to arrive. I order them up a bunch of hors d’oeuvres and a couple bottles of wine before syncing my phone to the room’s blue tooth speaker and pumping music throughout the suite. I’ve used this team many times and we always have a blast together. So it’s no surprise that the next three hours fly by and, before I know it, they’ve got me primed, buffed, tucked, zipped, and out the door.
The crowd tonight is large, as
far as these things go. This is Stanford’s grandest gala of the year, and they must have close to five hundred people in attendance. Cardinal red and white, the school colors, cover the majority of the space. From table linens to centerpieces and lighting, the colors saturate the room without making it appear too gaudy. That’s why I chose a simple, fitted, black strapless, floor-length gown with ruching at the hip.
I make my way around the room, chatting with fellow donors and being courted by numerous department heads and school administrators. As annoying as these fundraising events can sometimes be, I’m glad for the opportunity to attend an event without my family, allowing me to truly be myself. I can laugh a little too loudly. I can talk animatedly, gesturing with my hands (Grandmother’s pet peeve) and I can eat, drink, and dance without being ridiculed. I can actually have a little fun.
I’m talking with a former professor of mine, when my eyes do a double-take. I must have CJ on the brain because I swore I just saw his twin from across the room. My professor continues to talk as I casually arch my neck and twist my body, trying to get another look. There’s no way this guy is as good-looking as CJ, but I’m intrigued enough to see how close the resemblance is. Curiosity is getting the best of me, so I take advantage of a lull in the conversation to excuse myself, and seek out CJ’s doppelgänger.
I catch sight of the mystery man and subtly make my way across the room. From the back, this guy is a dead ringer. Similar height and build, but he’s surrounded by a group of flirtatious debutantes, keeping me from getting a clear view. I don’t want to be confused as another one of his admirers, so I make sure to keep my distance, and only glance at him out the corner of my eye. But it’s not enough, I need to get closer and see him full on. I casually stroll around the group surrounding him and, just as I begin to lose my nerve, he turns my way.
Through an opening in the crowd, I’m able to confirm I was right. He resembles CJ in almost every way. He’s tall, toned, and fairly broad with the same dark blond hair, although he wears his a little longer. When he catches me staring, I see his top lip has the same prominent dip in the center, his jaw has a similar strong line, but his eyes are a warm chocolate brown, not the same sapphire blue as CJ’s. But other than that, he resembles him in every way.
Beautiful Lies Page 15
