Page 117 of This Beautiful Lie
She didn’t answer right away, but her eyes told me everything. That she saw my anguish. That she’d read between the lies and knew the truth I hadn’t yet spoken out loud.
I looked away, heat creeping up my neck.
“I see the way he looks at you. The way you look athim.What’s going on here, Em?”
My chest tightened, and I turned back to the window. “It’s just a job.” But in that moment Dean lifted Emma into his arms, her head tipped back as they laughed and twirled beneath thelights. The sight of it hit like a bruise I hadn’t seen coming—tender and deep and impossibly painful
Tuesday’s voice came softer this time. “Just a job, huh?”
Dean’s words from earlier in the week echoed in my head, hollow and steady.When it’s over, we walk away.I drew in a slow breath and forced myself to face her. “When the week’s over, he’ll go his way, and I’ll go mine. We’llbreak upin a couple of days.” I added air quotes, tried to laugh, but the sound came out hollow. “We have a contract.”
Tuesday’s expression softened, she leaned forward, and her hand found my knee. “Oh honey,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Her kindness undid me more than judgment ever could. Because we both knew she wasn’t sorry about the plan—she was sorry because she could see the truth I wasn’t brave enough to say out loud.
I’d come here to live a lie, but the truth was simple and cruel. I’d fallen deeply in love with a man for the first time in my life, and there was no version of this story where I got to keep him.
Thirty-Four
The cabin wasquiet when we stepped inside, the low hum of cicadas carrying in through the open window. George trotted over the moment we entered, tail wagging like we’d been gone for days instead of hours. He pushed his nose into Dean’s hand, then mine, warm and expectant—something which had become a ritual in the few days we’d been here. As though I’d become part of them. As though it was no longer just him and Dean, but us.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean murmured, scratching George behind his ear, before setting the key on the counter. “Missed us, huh?”
I managed a small smile, but the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted since leaving Tuesday in the lodge. Every laugh, every glance tonight had been one more reminder that this would all end soon. That ithadto.
Dean exhaled and turned toward me, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “That went well, don’t you think? My whole family loved John and Tuesday.”
“They did,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “It was… nice.”
But my voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. I toed off my shoes and untucked my shirt from my shorts, trying to keep my movements casual. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.”
He nodded, distracted, going to the table to find George’s leash. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take George out.”
I made it halfway to the bathroom before his voice stopped me. “Hey.”
I turned around, finding him standing there, watching me. His brows were drawn together, concern softening the sharp edges of his face. “You okay?”
The question hit harder than I wanted it to. I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “Just tired.”
He studied me for a long moment, as if he could see straight through the mask I was trying so hard to keep in place. Then he stepped forward, slowly closing the space between us. The air seemed to shift with each step he took. His shoulders were broad beneath the soft stretch of his shirt, his presence filling the room before he even reached me.
By the time he stopped in front of me, the room felt charged, alive. The faint scent of cedar and soap clinging to him, warm and familiar, and I had to fight the instinct to lean in—to let myself get lost in him.
“You sure?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, small and careful, willing my voice to stay steady, even as something in my chest gave a quiet twist. “Yeah.”
Dean’s jaw flexed as if he didn’t quite believe me. Then, without another word, he reached up and brushed his palm along the side of my jaw. The warmth of his hand made my heart ache. His thumb traced the edge of my chin, tender and searching, his voice low when he finally spoke.
“You’re not lying to me, are you?”
I forced a small weak smile. “No,” I whispered. “Of course not.”
He held my gaze for another heartbeat, as though he was trying to decipher me—my face, my voice, the distance I was building between us. Then he exhaled slowly, his hand falling from my jaw.
“I’m meeting with Mason tonight,” he said, his voice low, careful. “We need to go over the final presentation before tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He paused, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to read between the lines. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?”
I nodded, though the news that he was leaving tonight hollowed me out. “Okay.”
