The (Half) Truth

by Harper, Leddy

“And telling her that we were sleeping together somehow made you look better?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. This all happened before we started hanging out.”

  There had to be an answer in there somewhere; I just wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Do you remember that picture your aunt took of us on my phone after you first moved back here?” she asked, waiting for me to answer. There was no way in hell I could’ve forgotten it, so I nodded and let her continue. “Well, when people asked to see what my new boyfriend looked like, I used it to show them.”

  “I’m confused. You told her we were dating before we started sleeping together?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think before I did it, which was stupid, because if I had—or if I had planned better—I would’ve shown her a photo of some other guy. But we were at Taste of the Town, and that was the first picture I could find.”

  Well, that explained the hug and her odd behavior, though I was still confused. “You used me to make the others stop feeling bad for you every time your ex’s new girlfriend talked about their relationship?”

  “Yes,” she said with a sigh, as if relieved that I understood.

  “And then what? Got the idea to tell your ex about me, too? To make him jealous?”

  “No. I didn’t tell him directly. I’ll admit that I kind of hoped he’d hear about it and then realize I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines waiting for him. And he did.”

  “Think,” I corrected. And when her brows dipped in confusion, I added, “You said he’d realize you weren’t waiting around for him, but you were, so really, there was nothing for him to realize, only think.”

  “Okay, fine. Think. Whatever.”

  Honestly, this shouldn’t have been a big deal. So she had told people we were dating when we weren’t. But technically, we were sleeping together and hanging out, as well as talking every day, so it wasn’t that big of a stretch to say we were more to a bunch of people who didn’t know us.

  “Is that why you never wanted us to be seen in public together? In case someone came up and started talking to us, possibly saying things you didn’t want me to find out?”

  “No. By the time we started hanging out, they all thought we were broken up.”

  Oh, this just kept getting better and better. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. Admit it, Jason . . . no guy wants to find out that the girl he’s sleeping with has gone around telling everyone they’re dating—especially when they’ve both agreed to keep things casual. You would’ve freaked out and disappeared.”

  “Or I would’ve found it funny.” I couldn’t guarantee that, but it was certainly a possibility. “You have done and said the most random, off-the-wall things ever since I first met you. I’ve laughed them all off, so I don’t understand why you automatically assumed I wouldn’t have done the same with this.”

  “You don’t understand, Jason. That all happened before us. By the time I got comfortable talking to you, where I felt like I knew you well enough to just be me, warts and all, they believed we weren’t together anymore.”

  “Exactly, which should’ve made it easier to tell me.” I took a deep breath to rein in some of the frustration I felt. It wasn’t fair to attack her on this; it was silly, and there was no point in making it bigger than what it was. “So why did you tell them we broke up? If it kept others from pitying you, why end it?”

  “I didn’t. You forced my hand.” She seemed a little bitter about that, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Me? How?”

  “You came into the restaurant with another woman. Everyone thought you were on a date with her—including me. I didn’t know it was an interview, because we didn’t really know each other at the time, so it wasn’t like I could justify it to everyone.”

  An image of Tatum came to mind. A plate of chocolate cake, a couple of very confused customers, singing, a fake candle . . . utter humiliation in her eyes. Then I recalled the way the hostess had regarded me, the snide comments and horrible service from the waitress. It all made sense.

  But before I could say anything about that night, Michael’s words from earlier came back to me. And suddenly, this became a much bigger deal than it had been. “So they all think I’m some piece-of-shit asshole who cheated on you?”

  “What was I supposed to tell them? That I had lied and we’d only met twice?” Fear darkened her eyes, and the longer I stared into them, the less angry I was about it.

  I ran my hand through my hair and then dragged it down my face. “I don’t know, Tatum. I’ve been in there a couple of times since—I brought you flowers the next day; I stopped in once to see you on my way home from the office.”

  “Yes, and the card on the flowers basically reiterated what everyone thought.”

  I didn’t care to waste my time trying to remember what I had written on a card, so I ignored it and moved on. “You don’t see it, do you? When everyone looked at you with pity, you fabricated a boyfriend. Yet you don’t think there’s anything wrong with allowing me to walk in there and have all those same people look at me with disgust? Unfairly, at that?”

  “I’m sorry, Jason,” she cried, her eyes sad and remorseful. “The whole thing just spun out of control. One lie led to the next until I was buried under them all.”

  “What do you mean? What other lies have you told?”

  “That’s just it . . . I haven’t told any others. They just keep assuming things, starting these rumors I don’t know how to get out of, all because I would have to admit that the very first one was a lie. It’s gone on for so long now that I can’t do that without looking like a freaking psychopath.”

  I took a few slow breaths, hoping enough oxygen would reach my brain and things would start to make sense. “What rumors?”

  “Just stupid things that are being said behind my back. None of it’s true. And I only found out because Amanda—the hostess with her nose in everyone’s business—mentioned it in the parking lot last week.” There was a reason she circled her ass to get to her elbow, and I had a feeling it wasn’t to save time.

  “What did she tell you?”

  “Well, it all started that night I was sick at work and left—the same day I got that ring stuck on my finger. Apparently, throwing up meant I was pregnant, and wearing a ring, no matter what kind, on my left hand couldn’t mean anything other than I was engaged. Put the two together, and they all convinced themselves that you knocked me up before I dumped you, and now we’re planning a shotgun wedding.”

  My chest tightened, my throat closed up, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get enough air to make the room stop closing in on me. “You corrected them . . . right?”

  “I thought I did.”

  “What do you mean by you thought you did, Tatum?”

  “I told Amanda that it wasn’t true. If anyone could spread the truth, it would be her. And considering no one said anything to me, that was my only option to clear the air. Oh, and I moved the ring to my right hand.”

  “I’m confused . . . are you saying this girl didn’t tell everyone?” The longer this went on, the more frustrated I became.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you just walk in and set the record straight instead of waiting for someone else to do it? You wouldn’t have even had to admit to any of the other lies by doing so.”

  Her posture grew rigid, and she began to fidget with her hands in her lap. “I don’t know, Jason. I was so pissed when I found out what was being said that all I wanted to do was storm in there and tell them all off. But by the time I got to work the next day, all I kept thinking about was how I’d have to relive the whole Michael thing all over again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were engaged. If I wasn’t asked about when the wedding was, they were asking when we were going to have babies. After he broke it off, everyone felt sorry for me and felt the need to console me by pointing out how I’m still young, ther
e’s a guy out there for me, my chances of having a family aren’t over. So, walking into work and announcing to everyone that I wasn’t engaged, again, and that I wasn’t pregnant just brought all that back. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t attempt to make the truth known in another way.”

  “You said no one has said anything to you . . . so how do you know your friend didn’t clear it up?”

  “I honestly thought she did until Michael came over. I just found out today—like ten minutes ago—they didn’t believe her. They think I’m embarrassed and trying to hide it because I don’t want to look like the fool who’s marrying a cheater simply because I wasn’t responsible enough to use protection.”

  “Oh, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, Tatum.” I couldn’t hide my anger or rein in the frustrations that burned within me. “Everyone you work with thinks I’m a complete piece of shit who not only cheated on you but also knocked you up. I’d say at least I look like the kind of guy who’d step up to the plate and do what’s right, but they think I gave you a piece of recycled trash stuck in fucking tinfoil. So apparently, I’m not only an asshole who doesn’t respect women, but I’m also a cheap son of a bitch. Thanks.”

  When her lower lids lined with tears, I had to look away, though that didn’t save me the agony of hearing it in her voice. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to go this far. It was just a stupid little lie to keep me from looking like a fool. How was I supposed to know this would happen?”

  “A stupid little lie?” My throat was sore, like someone had choked me with their bare hands, yet I didn’t let that stop me from forcing out the gritty words. “I find it a little ironic that your motivation for that little lie was to keep you from looking like a fool, yet it sounds like you made that worse. Because now, they don’t pity you for some guy breaking your heart; they think you’re stupid and likely believe you’ve ruined your life. And on top of that, they think I’m a deadbeat, washed-up piece of garbage.”

  “They don’t know you, so their opinion is worthless.”

  I fisted my hands, wondering how she didn’t get it. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know you at all. Or maybe, you don’t know me. Ever since I moved back, I’ve done nothing but hear about what a player I am, how I’m just a womanizer, that I’ll fuck anything that walks and not think twice about who it hurts. And now, not only am I still dealing with that, but it seems I have a whole new reputation I have to battle. What’s worse is I can’t defend myself to people who don’t know me. At least with Kelsey, I can prove her wrong; I can fight and yell and argue until she sees how wrong she is. With these other people . . . I basically have to sit back while my character is torn to shreds. No thanks to you.”

  “Jay, wait . . .” Tears filled her soft yet desperate plea, and if I didn’t get out of here, the sound alone would leave me completely unraveled. I didn’t handle a crying woman very well, but that woman being Tatum would be the end of me.

  I moved the few feet to the front door and grabbed the knob to open it. “It seems you got what you wanted, Tatum. I served my purpose—your ex came back. Let him save you from the douchey cheater.”

  She stood just as the first tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t say anything.

  And then I left, refusing to give her the power over my destruction.

  When I’d driven out of Langston on my way to see Tatum for a sexy evening alone in her apartment, I never expected I’d be heading back so soon. But there I was, navigating the roads on autopilot while I tried to work through it all in my mind.

  And by the time I pulled into my driveway, I realized why I hadn’t been able to give Jen my decision—why I hadn’t been able to make one until now. Regardless of the arrangement Tatum and I had made, her presence in my life over the last month had prevented me from seeing where things would go with Jen. Somewhere in the back of my mind, unbeknownst to me, I hadn’t wanted to give her up for someone who had already failed me once.

  I no longer had an excuse.

  I pulled out my phone and sent Jen my answer.

  21

  Tatum

  In four and a half hours, I ran through every emotion known to man.

  Shocked.

  Confused.

  Offended.

  Defensive.

  Angry.

  By the time Kelsey came home and found me in my room, guilt and grief consumed me. The tears wouldn’t cease, and the pain in my chest only grew worse the longer she stood in the doorway, assessing the entire situation.

  “What happened, Tater?” she asked, concern dripping from her tone as she attempted to find a safe route to the bed.

  “I cleaned.”

  Her wide eyes met mine before observing the chaos that was my room again. “Okay . . . that explains a few things. I guess at some point, I’ll need to clarify the definition of cleaning, because it seems you have that a bit backward.” She took a few more cautious steps while mumbling, “I’m sure walking in heels isn’t the safest choice, but I doubt being barefoot would be much better.”

  Less than two feet away, she more or less jumped onto the mattress and situated herself in front of me. She placed her hands on my knees, which acted as my own personal barrier, and regarded me with a level of pity I wasn’t comfortable with.

  “We’ll discuss the mess later. I’m sure you aren’t crying over that.” She waved her hand around my room. “Unless you’re crying because you twisted your ankle getting in here. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. I’ve seen these tears and bloodshot eyes before, which can only mean this is about Michael.”

  “No,” I argued, and then I shook my head. “I mean, kind of, but no.”

  “Let’s go back to the kind of. What did the asshole do to you now?”

  I let my head fall to the headboard behind me and stared at the ceiling fan for a moment. “He broke up with Rebecca and came here to tell me that he’s ready to work things out.”

  “Oh, really? Does this mean he no longer feels you’ll want what Tanner has?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get that far into the conversation before we were interrupted.” A longer explanation was needed, though I didn’t have the words quite yet.

  “Interrupted by who?”

  I took a deep breath and prayed this wouldn’t blow up in my face. “I had invited someone over today while you were gone.”

  “Okay . . . you’re being a little vague here, Tatum.”

  Huffing, I admitted, “Yeah, because you’ll be pissed if I tell you I was going to have sex on our couch.”

  Her nose scrunched in disgust. “Ew. I don’t want Michael’s naked ass on my sofa.”

  “No. Not Michael.”

  “Then who? How many people are you sleeping with?”

  “I wasn’t sleeping with Michael.”

  Silence passed the time, her mouth wide open and eyes full of bewilderment. “Then what were you doing with him when you spent the night? And before you answer that . . . oral and anal are both considered sex.”

  “No, I mean I wasn’t with him. At all.”

  “But he came over today?”

  This could take all night. “Yes . . . uninvited.”

  “When someone else was supposed to be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “To have sex with you?” The way she asked that made it sound like I had put out an ad.

  “The same person I’ve been sleeping with ever since you caught me coming home that one morning. Not some random guy I found online or anything.”

  “If you weren’t having sex with Michael, why did you tell me you were?”

  “Because I didn’t want to tell you who I was with.”

  I could visibly see the wheels spinning in her head. “Tater, I would’ve been more accepting of you boning Old Man Wilcox downstairs. You could’ve literally told me anyone, and it would’ve been better than telling me it was Michael.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Try me.”

  “Jason.” Let the sho
w begin.

  She blinked a few times, opened and closed her mouth without speaking for several seconds, and then shook it off. “Jason who? Because I only know one, and there’s no way you would’ve been dumb enough to climb into his bed.”

  I could only stare at her, unable to verify anything with words.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m gonna kill him.” She moved to climb off the bed, but I stopped her.

  “He didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh, so you just enjoy sitting in your room alone, crying like a child who lost her puppy? I doubt that. What the fuck did he do, Tatum?”

  Her anger was enough to scare even me, which meant I had to put a stop to this before she led Jay to believe I had told yet another lie that painted him in a bad light. “I’m telling the truth. He didn’t do anything. I’m the one who messed up. I told one innocent little lie a month ago, and it spiraled out of control. He found out about it and stormed out of here. He won’t answer my calls or texts.”

  At least she calmed down some, though now she just stared at me, utterly perplexed.

  This was the time to come clean . . . about everything.

  I started at the beginning, at Taste of the Town—Rebecca going on and on about Michael, Amanda trying to help me out, and Jason showing up. Then I explained the early rumors at the restaurant and Michael’s change of heart, which I used to defend my choice to carry on with the lie. Once I’d filled her in on Jason’s job interview and the debacle that ensued with the cake and my subsequent suspension, she stopped me.

  “Wait a minute. So that’s why he came here that night to see you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “He came to make sure I was all right.”

  She didn’t have to speak for me to understand the battle in her head at the idea of her cousin being concerned about me. “That means it was his house you stayed at that first night. When you came home and told me you were with Michael.”

  It was about time it started to click for her.

  “In my defense, I never told you I was with Michael. You assumed it was him, and I didn’t correct you. I thought you knew I was talking about Jason until you said otherwise. And by that point, I figured it’d be easier to let the lie stand.”