Page 13 of The Lies I Told
“She’s still as uptight as I remember,” he said.
“It’s hard for her,” I said, needing to defend. “She had Mom and Dad all to herself for three years, and then Clare and I showed up and basically sucked the oxygen out of the family.”
“That’s not true.”
The lock clicked, and I opened it. He followed me inside and then down a hallway toward a lone elevator. Before the accident, I took thestairs, but it had been a long day, and my reserves were waning. I didn’t want to stop and catch my breath in front of Kurt. Inside the car, I pressed five. The doors closed, and we slowly rose. When the doors opened, I said, “The pony express has arrived.”
“I’ve aged five years,” he quipped.
On my floor, we stepped off, and I walked to the lone door on the left. There were only two apartments on this floor. The other had been empty several months, but judging by a stack of broken-down, rain-soaked boxes by the door, it looked like I might have a new neighbor. Wrangling keys, I opened my door and flipped on the light, and Kurt followed me inside.
My apartment was the top half of a warehouse. Each of the five floors had two large apartments, creating ten units in all. Three years ago, when I’d first looked at the space, I’d immediately liked its massive square footage, large windows, and reasonable rent. It provided me the space to set up a photo studio in the front half, a small darkroom in a closet, and in the back a galley-style kitchen, my bedroom, and a bath. I used partitions to sequester the rear section when clients visited.
My photography studio was outfitted with a gray backdrop and several vintage settees I’d found at thrift stores to accommodate clients who requested a portrait or the occasional headshot.
The best part of the space was the large window that overlooked the James River and the city of Richmond on the north side. I’d angled my couch toward the window and often sat watching the sunrise. Sleep and I didn’t always get along, so I’d seen my share of breaking dawns.
I set my cake on the concrete kitchen counter, then slid off my coat and tossed it on a chair. “Sorry, nothing to offer you to drink other than coffee, water, or seltzer.”
Kurt set the presents down beside the cake. “I’ve had enough beer and coffee. Don’t need anything,” he said.
He was still very attractive, and it was impossible not to feel the allure. I’d not been with a man since I’d sobered up and was now veryaware of that fact. Or maybe this unexpected pull was rooted in his connection to Clare. Maybe on our birthday, I wanted to feel linked to my sister.
In Clare’s last days, she had said sex with Kurt had always been hot, frenetic, full of teenage groping and more hormones than sense. More often than not, it was over before it really began. Still, she’d always been left briefly warmed by a fleeting satisfaction that never lasted.
I wanted to feel that gratification now, even if it lasted only hours or minutes.
His gaze caught mine, heated, and I didn’t look away. I moistened my lips. He was savvy enough to read the cues, and I wondered whether my come-hither look mirrored Clare’s.
He came around the counter and cupped my face in his hands. “I love your eyes. They’ve always tempted me.”
My eyes. So like Clare’s. I stood still, knowing sex would burn off the sizzling nerves that hadn’t gone away after the candles were blown out. I’d coped with these anxieties for several years with drugs and booze. But with those off the table, the sharp edges of my worries cut deeper.
He tilted his head down and kissed me on the lips, as if he’d once been familiar with my body. I leaned into him but kept my hands at my sides. My blood pulsed. His lips tasted of malt and sensuous energy. The bands twisting inside me eased a fraction, and I was on the verge of telling him he could do whatever he wanted to me.
“You taste good,” he said as he rubbed my jaw with his thumb. When he kissed me again, his right hand slid up under my shirt, cupped my breast, and teased the nipple. Desire exploded, and I hissed in a breath.
As I teetered closer to letting go, I suddenly imagined Clare standing behind me, watching, more curious than annoyed.“Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”
I ignored the voice and concentrated on his lips, that hand squeezing and fondling.Let me just have this moment.
“He’s going to disappoint you,” Clare said. “Nothing is ever as advertised.”
I stiffened, drew in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” He gripped a handful of my shirt, keeping my body anchored close to his. “You used to like that,” he said.
You.“Clare did. Not me.”
His grip on my shirt eased, and I stepped back, pulling the fabric from his slackened grip. He stabbed long fingers through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Did you mean me or Clare?”
“Don’t turn that comment into a thing,” he said softly. “We’rehere, and we’re doing just fine.”
But it wasn’t just us. It never would be. Picturing Clare standing behind me, I took another step back. “Were we? Are we both looking for a way to bring her back to life for a little while?”
“You’re overthinking this.” Frustration leaked from the words.
