Twisted Truths: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2 Page 4

  She didn’t do any of those things. She barely offered me a second glance and was irritatingly polite toward Natalie.

  It’s really over. She doesn’t want me.

  Sighing, I take a swig from my water glass. “It’s complicated and not worth talking about. What is worth talking about is why—”

  “You punched Gray in the face yesterday?” Natalie interrupts.

  “Heard about that, did you?”

  “You know how much everyone gossips on a movie set.”

  “He pushed me. Said a bunch of shit for the reaction he wanted for the scene.”

  “He’s a very skilled director,” Natalie murmurs, sipping her water.

  I nod.

  “Did he use me to get a reaction from you?” Her voice is soft, her eyes burning into mine. I can tell the answer is important to her, that if Gray somehow used her in his work, she’d feel less-than in his eyes.

  I shake my head and clear my throat. “Zoe.”

  “Ah.” Natalie picks up her menu, a small smile playing over her lips. “Is it serious, Eli?”

  “Could have been.”

  “What happened?”

  “Who’s the baby’s father?” I ask instead, going on the offensive. I swore I’d always be here for Natalie, but that doesn’t mean I need to confide in her like we’re still best friends. We haven’t been that in a long time, and I stopped confiding in her years ago.

  She looks up, her eyes boring directly into mine. “Gray.”

  “You guys are divorced.”

  “We’d been trying for two years,” Natalie continues, her voice wavering. “Fertility specialists, hormone treatments, two miscarriages. I thought God was punishing me, you know?” She dips her head before her gaze returns to me. The hurt that swirls there cuts at me and I swear, reaching out a hand to cover hers.

  Her hand feels small in mine. Fragile. Nothing like Zoe’s strength. Her independence.

  Natalie wants to be taken care of. She wants to be shielded and protected. Zoe wants to prove herself. To be taken seriously. They’re so different and yet, they both spit lies that make my heart turn to a lump of shaved ice in my chest.

  “Say it,” I whisper, tightening my grip on Natalie’s hand. All these years, all this suffering, and she still hasn’t given me the words I want to hear.

  “I thought God was punishing me for having an abortion. I was young, Eli. And scared.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Because I know you,” she breathes out. “You would’ve wanted the baby.”

  “Of course I would’ve wanted the baby.”

  This earns me a fierce glare.

  “I could have been there for you,” I hiss, the anger from years ago swelling to the surface. I’ve kept it tamped down but it’s never disappeared. It’s been waiting for this moment, for Natalie.

  “No. You would have convinced me to keep the baby.”

  “Would that have been so terrible?” I ask the question that has kept me up at night for years. Why didn’t she want our baby? How could she terminate our pregnancy?

  “We would have been trapped,” she admits, her voice low. “I didn’t want that for either one of us. I would have resented you. You would have resented me. And you know who would have suffered the most? The baby.”

  “We could have been a family.”

  “I was planning to break up with you,” she whispers, her body tight.

  “What?” I lean back in my chair, slipping my hand from hers. I’m grateful we’re seated in the back, tucked away in a tiny alcove where wandering eyes can’t land on us. If they could, we’d be trending on Twitter.

  “I wanted to end it. Then I found out I was pregnant.” Her eyes fill with tears, one slipping over to glide down her cheek. “I felt like I was suffocating. I know you, Eli. You would have talked me into keeping the baby, into being a family. I didn’t want that, so I didn’t tell you.”

  Her words sucker-punch me. I feel TKOed, unable to think clearly. All this time, I thought the baby had been the end of us. It turned out we weren’t on solid ground to begin with.

  “Why the hell didn’t you talk to me?” I ask, leaning forward again.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I snort, the sound derisive.

  “I didn’t. I just wanted us to move on with our lives.”

  “Then why didn’t you let me go?” I spit, slapping a hand across my chest. “You came to L.A., you married the best goddamn director in the industry, and then you called me every single time your life was spinning out of control while you eased your guilt with vodka. You never let me move on.”

  “I know.” She closes her eyes, her voice laden with sorrow. “I was selfish. I felt like you owed me. Like if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with your baby, everything would have been easier, better. The drinking was…” she shakes her head, “it was stupid, but the only way I knew how to cope. The only way to make myself numb.”

  “How bad did it get?”

  “Pretty bad. Depression, it’s hard to understand.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m doing a lot better.” She says the words, and I can tell by her expression she’s telling the truth. “Having an abortion changed me in ways I couldn’t comprehend. But I love Gray, and I want to have a family with him.”

  “That’s why you’re here? For Gray?”

  “I’m here for my family.”

  Hurt scrapes against my heart at that. She’s here for the family she wants, not the one she callously discarded.

  She’s being honest and, after years of not understanding her motives, acceptance coupled with her apology soothes some of my hurt. “Why did you divorce in the first place?” I ask, the realization that I don’t know anything about Natalie and Gray’s relationship smacking me in the face.

  “The fertility issues put a lot of pressure on our marriage. Gray wanted a break. He said we could look into adoption or fostering but I… I was adamant. I wanted to have his baby. I wanted to be pregnant. It became my only focus, the only thing I could talk about. And he…he felt like he didn’t know me anymore. He said I was changing too much. We just grew too far apart, I guess. And now,” she glances down at her still-flat stomach, her hand hovering over her belly button, “now we’ve created a miracle. In the middle of our tearing each other down, we made something beautiful.”

  I swallow, my throat burning with all the terrible things I want to say, to tear Natalie down. Too many years of pain and resentment, too many moments of inadequacy and desperation.

  Seeing the love flash across her face for the tiny miracle inside of her, they die on my lips.

  I know what it’s like to yearn for a child. I know what it feels like to want the expression she’s wearing right now.

  I know, and I won’t take that away from her.

  “I’m assuming you’ve been sober since finding out?”

  She nods.

  “So why the phone calls to me? Why did you message me when you landed here?” I finally ask, suddenly tired of the whole thing. Carrying onto the anger, cloaking myself in distrust, battling against the kindness of others. It’s exhausting to be so closed off all the time.

  “I need to tell Gray the truth. About the abortion.”

  My eyes widen. “You haven’t told him?”

  “Not yet,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I want you to tell him with me. I need your help.”

  “Jesus, Natalie.” I hang my head, confusion rocking through me. Is she really asking me to help her convince her ex-husband to give her a chance at raising their child together? I glance back up, meet her glistening blue eyes.

  Yes. Yes she is.

  “Please, Eli.”

  “Nat, why haven’t you told him? And why the hell would you want me there?”

  She dabs the corners of her eyes with the napkin. “It’s complicated. I need him to understand how difficult this has all been for me. He needs to know it wasn’t, I wasn’t, I…” She breaks off, h
er expression desperate.

  I blow out a breath. Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the woman I once thought made up my whole world.

  It’s strange how she could only be a shadow now. Now that I’ve had Zoe, Natalie could never come close. I thought I’d never feel as broken as I did after Natalie. I was wrong.

  Will I ever meet a woman who outshines Violet?

  God, I hope so.

  Or maybe I’m doomed to always desire the kind of women who put themselves first. The ones who break down my walls but never let me past theirs. First Natalie and now Zoe, took all my truths and gave me lies instead.

  The word is on the tip of my tongue. I should tell her no, push back my chair, and slip from the restaurant. I don’t owe Natalie anything, especially after all the years of her lies and all the times I’ve cleaned up her messes. But staring at her, all the selfish things she’s done to hurt me fade away, and I still see the woman I once gave my heart to. That woman is the one I want to help. The sober, trying, mother-to-be. “Fine.”

  She grins, the movement slow and cautious. “Really?”

  I nod, gesturing to the menu. “Let’s eat something really quick.”

  “Thank you, Eli,” her voice is soft, filled with gratitude. “I’m trying to think of the best way to tell him. Maybe after we’ve had a few conversations.”

  I scan the menu, unable to meet her gaze again. While part of me feels like I’m doing the right thing, the larger part feels used all over again.

  And the worst part is, it’s my own damn fault.

  5

  Zoe

  “Three more. Come on, Holt. Push.” I shout as Eli drops into a burpee and presses up into a triple-clap push-up. Sweat pours down his face, pooling in the neckline of his T-shirt. His veins pop against his forearms, all corded muscle and strength. His legs must be on fire, but you’d never know as he maintains his form throughout the entire set.

  “Done,” I breathe out, throwing a towel at him as he collapses to the sand, rolling onto his back and staring up at the sky. “You did really great. Your times are better than last week’s. I know you have that scene coming up where—”

  “Thanks for the workout,” Eli says suddenly, pulling himself up to standing. “We don’t need to talk about anything else, do we?” His tone is snide, his eyes blank.

  I exhale again, trying to remain calm even though my blood boils just under the surface of my skin. My fingers twitch and my chest burns with embarrassment.

  Yeah, I hurt him. But he hurt me too. Just because I ended things doesn’t give him the right to be a callous, rude, infuriating dick.

  Eli stalks off, his shoulder grazing mine as he moves to pass me. The smirk on his face, the stupid, taunting chuckle that sounds in my ear, pisses me off.

  My hand reaches out and wraps around his forearm, tugging to stop him. He glares at me, his jaw clenched. Anger rolls off of him, dragging me into the undertow of his emotions. Right now, though, mine are ready to put up a fight.

  “Yeah, we do. We need to talk about why you’re acting like such an asshole.” I quirk an eyebrow, trying to feign casual when inside I feel total turmoil.

  “Me?” Eli scoffs, pulling his arm free and squaring his shoulders. His mouth twists into a sneer as disbelief washes over his expression. “I thought you were done with me, babe.”

  “Eli, enough. Okay, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. Truly. But you hurt me too.”

  “Oh, so this is a competition, then?”

  “Jesus.” I throw my hands in the air before fastening them to my hips so I don’t reach out and punch him. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

  “I’ve been told. And by women feistier than you,” he throws back, an edge to his words.

  “I’m trying to do my job.”

  “Then do it.”

  “You’re making it really hard.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know that in addition to paying you a high salary and bringing you to paradise,” he spreads his arms wide, encompassing the beach, “I was also supposed to make your two hours of work a day easy.”

  I snap my mouth shut, biting my tongue. Rage blasts through me, causing my hands to shake and my eyes to smart. “Screw you, Holt.”

  “You already have, sweetheart,” he smirks, his hand darting out to grab my hip. He pulls me forward and I stumble, colliding with his chest.

  My palms come up, slamming into his pecs, the sweat from his shirt seeping into my skin. His heartbeat, strong and angry, ticks up several beats, thumping against my hand. I curl my fingers, scraping my nails against his chest and he hisses. Tension pulls the air between us until it’s too thin, reedy and not enough to hold the intensity of our anger. My breath catches as my fingers visibly shake against Eli’s shirt.

  Eli widens his stance, his hands lifting to lock around my wrists. His thumbs press into my pulse and he drops his head. My body stiffens as his scent invades my space. Memories from weeks ago slam into me, unbidden and unwanted.

  I try to shuffle back a step, but Eli tightens his hold, the scruff from his cheek scraping against mine. His breath fans over the shell of my ear and I shiver, my own anger at war with the way he manages to manipulate my body, lighting me up like a firecracker, with his presence alone.

  “You want another go, baby? Is that what this is?” His voice is low but hard in my ear. I tug on my arms again.

  Eli chuckles darkly, tugging my earlobe in between his teeth and biting down. “I’m not opposed to a good, hard fuck. Is that what you need? For me to trail kisses down your neck?” He presses an open-mouth kiss just under my ear and I whimper.

  I fucking whimper.

  Eli’s mouth curves into a smile against my skin. “I’d make it so good for you, Zoe,” he continues, pulling me even closer against him so his knuckles graze against my nipples, my abdomen, lower.

  My mind is racing, my body pulled so tight, I could snap like a rubber band. Dusk surrounds us, muddling my brain as my moral compass turns murky.

  Eli drags his tongue up the side of my neck, his teeth nipping once at my jaw. “I could fuck all that anger right out of you, make you break apart in my arms. Is that what you want?”

  Before I have a chance to respond, he presses against my clit, circling slowly but hard through my yoga pants and underwear.

  I cry out, dropping my forehead to his shoulder.

  “I bet you’re soaked for me. Aren’t you, babe?” he taunts in my ear as he shifts us, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of my pants and finding my core. He hums his approval. “So fucking wet.”

  I moan, unable to respond as he drags his fingers through my folds, the pad of his thumb pressing against my clit as two of his fingers enter me.

  “Eli,” I whisper, biting the ball of his shoulder. My body tightens in anticipation, in need. Sensations rock through me as I close my eyes, knowing anyone could see us. We’re in the middle of the beach at dusk and I’m not strong enough to back away from his hand. Not when I’m craving the friction. Not when I’m chasing the high that only he can provide.

  For a moment, all the stress disappears and I’m right here, grinding against Eli’s hand as he brings my body pleasure in the smallest increments, his mouth spilling dirty words of even dirtier thoughts into my ear.

  “You still want me so goddamn much. I could fuck you in the sand right now, couldn’t I, Zoe?” My name is a curse on his lips, his fingers pumping faster now.

  “Eli, I—” I bite down as pleasure floods through me, my body shattering like a smashed mirror, shards flying in every direction, pieces crashing to the ground. I fall slack against him and he pulls his hand out of my pants, easing my body to the sand.

  I fold into myself, my lust-filled brain clearing as reality sweeps back in. What the hell is wrong with me? What did I just do?

  Swallowing past my shame, I look up.

  Eli looms above me, his eyes haughty, the twist of his mouth amused. “That’s all it takes, hu
h? Keep your thoughts of professionalism and friendship to yourself, Zoe. I could still have you naked and writhing beneath me in three seconds if I wanted to. I just don’t want you anymore.” He turns, chuckling as he leaves the beach.

  I sit there, shocked and scorned, hurt and hating, as the sun dips lower in the sky and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.

  * * *

  “I’m fine, Dad. I promise. I decided to stay.” I squeeze the phone between my shoulder and chin as I apply a face mask in the bathroom mirror.

  “Are you sure, Zoe? You can come home whenever you want,” his voice rumbles through the line. I hear the edge of concern he doesn’t want me to detect.

  “I know. Thank you. I’m sure. I want to see this through to the end. It’s only another seven weeks. Dr. Salinas isn’t concerned as long as I do some follow-ups here and take this time to consider the preventative surgeries she suggested.”

  Dad’s sigh is heavy through the line. I hold back my grin. The old guy worries about me as much as I worry about him. It hasn’t always been easy, especially with the overwhelming grief our family has experienced, but it’s always been worth it. “Okay, Zo. But keep me in the loop.”

  “I will. As long as you keep me in the loop with your upcoming tests.”

  Dad mumbles under his breath.

  “Didn’t catch that, Dad.”

  “Promise. Mean it.” He swears and then chuckles, “Come home already, would ya? I’m spending too much damn time with Charlie.”

  “I can tell,” I laugh. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Promise and mean it too.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Love you.”

  “Love you. ‘Bye.” I disconnect the call, stare at my muddy-green face in the reflection and blow out a long breathe.

  I’m here to work. I came for the job. For the experience. To expand my business and pad my bank account.

  Offering myself a stern nod, I return to my bedroom and open my laptop. I spend the next few hours working on videos and posts for That Fit Bitch Life. I came here for a purpose, and I’m not going to let Eli Holt’s head games distract me from my end goal.