Little White Lie

by Madison Night

  “You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”

  He shrugged. “I know. I wanted to be a gentleman.”

  “Well,” she said, stepping out and grabbing her purse, “you’ve been a perfect one. Thanks for everything, CJ. The ride back here, the food, the skiing, the company—everything.”

  “Sorry again about your car, Syd.”

  “You’re kidding me. Caleb, stop—it wasn’t your fault. You were kind enough to cover the cost of the repairs. You certainly didn’t have to do anything else.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m certainly glad I did. You’ve made the last couple days exceptionally enjoyable.”

  They stood there for a moment, Syd’s gaze to the ground, Caleb shifting from foot to foot. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say goodbye. Not without knowing if she felt something too.

  He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face up to his. Caleb leaned in and kissed her lightly, the same way he had on the trail and in front of his chalet. She responded to him, her body tilting toward his. He let his lips linger on hers, hoping that his kiss told her he wasn’t ready to part ways.

  But when he pulled away from her, Syd’s only response was a frown. A cold stone formed in the pit of his stomach.

  “Stay,” he said softly. “Just one more day.”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “I’d like to see you again,” he whispered.

  Her lower lip trembled.

  “Will I ever see you again, Syd?” he asked quietly, his stomach in knots.

  Her green eyes flooded with tears. She drew in a shuddery breath and shook her head. “Goodbye, Caleb,” she whispered, her voice hitching, as she turned from him and ran into the hotel and out of his life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Syd barely made it into her room before breaking into tears. She sank to the floor in front of the bed and covered her face as she sobbed. She was miserable from saying goodbye to Caleb and angry with herself for spending time with him in the first place. It only made everything impossibly worse.

  These last two days reminded her of what it was like to be truly needed and wanted by a man. It showed her that she had a right to be treated respectfully, that she had a right to laugh and that she had a right to be happy. Yet even though she had those rights, they didn’t matter. Her father, her family, came first and always would—and that meant she was stuck with Brett. To spend any measure of time with Caleb risked it all, but she did so anyway. And showing herself that she deserved better? That was dangerous.

  “Stupid,” she spat out. “I’m so stupid!”

  I don’t need to be reminded of what I can’t have, what I’ll never have if I marry Brett, she thought bitterly, shoulders sinking.

  But there was no way out of it, not yet. If they found a means to make the restaurants profitable again, they could sell the chain, take the money, and use it to find a solution for their family woes—if such a solution even existed. Until then, though, they were at Brett’s mercy. If he told the world what he’d uncovered…

  She shook the thought out of her head and reached for a tissue to blot her tear-stained cheeks. Her family was everything to her, and there was no way she’d risk it. Her father, and how frail he’d been looking as of late with all this stress on his shoulders—nothing was worth the risk of losing him.

  She stood and moved to the dresser to retrieve her cell phone. She plugged it in, turned it on, and was greeted by the little red message light, blinking away incessantly, urging her to call her voicemail and have a listen if she dared. She stared at the screen and wasn’t sure if she should laugh or start crying all over again.

  There were thirty-seven messages. Thirty-seven. In the span of thirty-six hours.

  Syd rolled her eyes and sighed, hitting the voicemail button and entering her password.

  The first two messages were from Brett.

  “Nikoleta, where are you? I need to speak with you. Call me.”

  “Nikoleta, why aren’t you answering your phone!”

  She groaned. All these years, and still only he, her father, and occasionally her step-brother when he was really worried about her, ever called her by her first name. According to Brett, going by her middle name was ‘silly, improper and unrefined’.

  Her father, well, he had been born in Greece. And he was her father. He had an excuse.

  The next message was from her step-brother, Theo, and she smiled.

  “Hey, Syd! When you get back in town, call me. I want to hook up for lunch or something. Love you!”

  Roughly a dozen hang-ups came next, followed by a message from her father.

  “Nikki, it’s Papa, honey. I need to talk to you. Brett is very upset because he can’t reach you. You cannot do this.” A pause, a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just…just call me when you get this, okay, Nikki? Okay.”

  Syd sighed and deleted the message. Her father knew she was hurting, but he was frightened. And he was right to be—she was scared, too.

  Still going through her messages, she deleted a few more hang-ups, then she was blessed by another message from Brett, this one showing the Brett she despised.

  “Nikki, where the fuck are you and why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone? It’s past midnight! You call me as soon as you get this!”

  The next message was from Cara—the best friend and sista’ from another mista’ who never ceased to make Syd smile.

  “Syd, I’ve got this great idea, ya know? You, me, wine. Sound good? Yeah, I thought you’d like it. Call me!”

  Finally, Syd made it to the last of the thirty-seven messages, and of course, it was another from dear Brett, less than half an hour ago.

  “Nikki, you better have a good fucking explanation for this! I’ve been calling you since yesterday morning—where in the hell are you? If you don’t call me before noon I’m going to have to have a little discussion with your father. And we all know what that means, don’t we?” he said before disconnecting.

  Syd was nearly unable to resist the urge to throw the cell against the wall. “Asshole,” she grunted, tossing the phone onto the bed instead. She stripped out of her clothes and quickly donned a dark green pantsuit and cream-colored silk blouse. She wrapped a gold lariat chain around her neck and began rummaging through her purse and suitcase.

  “Where the fuck are my earrings?” she muttered impatiently.

  She stood straight, eyes widening as it came to her. She had taken the gold chandelier earrings off after dinner last night while they were sitting in front of the fire. She had put them on the coffee table, but didn’t recall picking them up.

  “Damn, I liked those,” Syd grumbled, opting for a pair of gold and diamond studs instead.

  She surveyed the room quickly. “Okay…purse, laptop, cell. Ready to go.” She snatched up her coat and swung it on when her purse starting buzzing.

  She groaned and glanced at the clock. She had fifteen minutes to make it to the restaurant. She pulled the phone out of her purse and checked the call display.

  “Brett,” she said flatly, answering the call.

  “Nikoleta! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you! I thought something was wrong!”

  She sighed. “No, Brett. You weren’t worried about me. You were checking up on me and you got upset when you didn’t know exactly where I was or what I was doing.” Fuck, she mouthed, angry with herself. Why the hell did she have to say that? It would only piss him off even more. When would she learn that giving Brett grief was never a good idea?

  “Well, my beloved, you’re in a dangerous mood this morning, aren’t you? You were supposed to be heading back home today—you’re still in Banff?”

  “Yes, and look, Brett, I’m sorry, but I need to get to the restaurant. I pushed my meetings to today and I have one to be at in ten minutes. If I don’t get out of here now I’m going to be late.”

  “I called the restaurant and found out you rescheduled your meetings, Nikoleta. You had to realiz
e I’d find out what you were up to, one way or another.”

  Oh God, he knows.

  “Now tell me, why did you move them? What reason could you have possibly had?”

  A rush of relief washed over her and she sighed. There was no way he knew. Brett was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn’t one to play dumb. “I was tired, Brett, that’s it. I’ve been running myself ragged lately and I needed a recharge.”

  “And I need you back home where I can keep an eye on you! We have a deal, Nikki. Don’t forget that.”

  How can I?

  “What were you doing yesterday?” he persisted in his interrogation.

  “Relaxing, as I said. Listen, I really do have to go or I’m going to be late.”

  He huffed. “Fine, go. But I’m not done with you, Nikki. We’ll finish talking about this when you get home!”

  “No, Brett. We won’t,” Syd said wearily as she broke the connection and left the room.

  The day went agonizingly slowly, but eventually her meetings ended. In a rush, Syd hadn’t picked up her Escape from the mechanic prior to her appointments and she had to swing by the shop before heading back to the hotel.

  Finished with errands, finished with meetings, Syd wearily dragged herself into her room and packed up her stuff. In the morning, she’d make the ten-hour drive back home.

  Syd buried herself in the thick down comforter and rubbed her grainy eyes, yawning. She reached to turn off the bedside lamp and froze, catching a glance of her hand.

  She’d forgotten that she hadn’t put Brett’s ring back on.

  She didn’t love him. She didn’t want to marry him. But it was either that or fail her father, and she couldn’t lose another parent—it would be unbearable.

  She flicked the lamp off and rolled onto her side, curling her knees up to her chest.

  Alone in the dark with her thoughts, Syd began to cry.

  Chapter Twelve

  Syd woke up somewhat rested, at last able to have had a good night’s sleep now that she was back at home in her own bed. She had survived the long drive back to Vancouver and had turned off her cell as soon as she stepped in the door, wanting nothing more than to shut out the world and sleep for a while. That quick nap turned into a whole night of slumber and then some, she mused, rubbing at her eyes. She glanced at the clock—it was closing in on eleven in the morning. She plucked her cell phone from the nightstand beside her, unplugged it and turned it on.

  “Huh, what do you know, only one message this time,” she snorted.

  She listened to the voicemail, and was unbelievably relieved to discover Brett had been called away on business to Montreal for a couple of days, trying to close a big real estate deal. Between his appointments and travel, Syd had some breathing room before she had to worry about seeing him again.

  However, she still had her father to answer to.

  She grunted as she got out of bed and padded down the stairs to the kitchen. Syd’s Pomeranian, Puff, followed her, hopping about, eager for some morning love.

  “Give Mommy a minute, baby. She needs coffee,” Syd cooed, bending and scratching the fuzzy beast behind her ears. “And you,” she continued, opening the French doors that led to the back yard, “you need to do your business.”

  She set the coffee to brew and popped an English muffin into the toaster. Dog treat in hand, ready for Puff when she came back inside, Syd walked over to her CD player in the family room, turned it on and hit shuffle. She was hoping a bit of music would help soothe her battered nerves before she called her dad. Spirits momentarily lifted by the music, she danced her way back into the kitchen to the tune of the Beatles classic A Hard Day’s Night.

  A few moments later, Syd sat on the floor in front of the sink, buttery English muffin in one hand, wrestling Puff with the other. The song ended, the CD changed and suddenly Caleb’s voice drifted out of the speakers. She had completely forgotten she had a Divine Intervention CD in the rotation. Stomach now roiling, Syd groaned and tossed the remainder of her breakfast over her head and into the sink behind her, knowing there was no way she was going to eat another bite.

  Puff curled into her lap as she sat there listening to the music. Head leaning back against the cabinets, eyes closed, she focused on the soothing lilt in his voice. Goosebumps spread across her skin as she recalled what his lips and teeth had felt like on her neck, his hands on hers, and the unspoken promises of pleasure when his body pressed against hers…

  ‘Baby, you have no idea…’

  She jumped up, ran into the family room and turned off the stereo. “No, no, no,” she whispered. She needed to get him out of her head, not fantasize even more. She took out the CD and returned it to its case. She wouldn’t be listening to that one again any time soon.

  She moved back into the kitchen, poured coffee into her mug and was about to take a sip when her phone rang. She glanced at the call display, and picked up quickly.

  “Hi, Papa.”

  “Nikki! I hadn’t heard back from you and I was getting worried. Is everything okay?”

  “No need to worry, Papa. I’m fine. I meant to call you last night, but I was pooped from the drive and collapsed in bed with Puffy as soon as I got home. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay, good, that’s good. And me, I’m okay, Nikki, you know how I am. Listen, can you come visit me today? We need to talk.”

  She sighed. “Sure, Papa. Lunchtime work for you?”

  “Yes, that’s perfect.” He paused briefly. “I love you, Nikoleta.”

  “I love you too, Papa. I’ll be there soon.” She put the phone back in its cradle and frowned. Her father would undoubtedly talk to her about Brett—again. She didn’t need him to review what was at stake, she understood quite clearly. After all, she was the one who had convinced her father and Theo that accepting Brett’s proposal made sense, at least for the moment.

  The thought of coffee now making her sick, she left it steaming on the counter and went back upstairs to shower and start her day.

  An hour later, as Syd was throwing her hair up into a haphazard ponytail, her cell rang.

  Without checking to see who it was, she answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh well, fuck, there you are!” Cara squeaked.

  “Hey, girl. What’s up?”

  “Um, you never called me back, that’s what’s up. I was heading over to your place to check in on you and make sure you weren’t, ya know, dead before I headed to a meeting.”

  “Oh crap, I’m so sorry, Car. It’s been a hell of a few days.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Syddie. I figured you were busy with something or other, but it’s very unlike you to ignore me for that long. I got worried.”

  “It’s impossible to ignore you, darling,” Syd chuckled. “So, you mentioned wine in your voice mail. I’m ready for it. Lots of it. Does tonight work for you?”

  “Hell yeah! Wait…no. Something’s not right. You don’t usually give in that easily to an offer of wine, madam. I hardly ever drink. What’s going on?”

  “What? Nothing, why?”

  “Hmm,” Cara said, hesitating before continuing. “You sound different, too.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do. You sound…I don’t know…extra tense. Kind of like you’re about to cry. I’m coming there right now.”

  “No, Cara, come on. You said yourself you have an appointment to get to, and I’ve proven I’m still alive and well. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “Alive, yes. Well—I’m not so sure on that one. I can spare a few minutes, Syd, and like I said, I was already on my way over to your place. I’ll be there in,” she paused, “two.”

  “No,” Syd laughed. “Cara, seriously, I’m fine!” Was she though? Ever since her rendezvous with Caleb, even she noticed she wasn’t acting herself. She was short on patience with Brett and her anxiety over the situation had increased tenfold. Tack on that normally Cara had to work to convince her to share a bottle of wine, let alone have a si
ngle glass—of course her friend would think something was up.

  “Yeah, no, seriously, you’re not fine.”

  The doorbell rang and Syd began to laugh. Still on the phone with her friend, she replied, “No, really. I’m fine,” as she opened the door.

  Cara shoved her out of the way, hit end on the cell and slipped it into her purse. “No. You are not. I can tell. I’ve known you for far too many years. Like I said, I’ve got five minutes. So spill it,” the leggy blonde said, tapping her high-heeled foot on the slate-gray ceramic-tiled floor. Her bright blue eyes shone with intelligence, and a perfectly manicured eyebrow was arched knowingly.

  “Damn it,” Syd said, leaning against the wall in resignation.

  Puff ran into the room and bounced around at Cara’s feet. She bent to scratch the pup. “Hi, little baby girl. Auntie Cara has to talk to Mommy, okay? But I’ll be back tonight, sweetie,” she cooed. She straightened up again and met Syd’s eyes. “I’m waiting. Clock’s a-ticking. Tickety-tock.”

  “What do you want me to say, Cara?” Syd asked, shrugging.

  “Tell me why you’re acting all different? Did you finally break up with that twit?”

  Syd felt like crying as she shook her head.

  Cara’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. Tell me you didn’t get that from the slug.”

  “Get what?”

  “That!” her friend squealed, turning Syd around to face the mirror that hung in the foyer and pointing to her neck, just below her left ear. “That! There!”

  “Oh no.” Syd raised a hand and gently traced the tiny bite mark on her neck. “Caleb,” she whispered.

  “Caleb?” Cara said, perking up. “What Caleb? Who’s Caleb? Oh my God, Syd, what’s going on?” She checked her watch and cursed. “Right when this gets good! Fuck! Okay, I’m coming here later, around sixish, and I’m bringing Chinese food, and two—yes you heard me—two bottles of wine. And so help me God, if you don’t tell me absolutely everything, I will kill you. And then bring you back because I’d still want those details.”