Believing Lies Read online

  I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I felt that I needed to point out one potentially big problem. “What happens if he never calls? Some guys are just after a one-night stand, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Trenton said that his friend, Adam, is a major player.”

  There was a brief silence before she answered, “I thought about that before we left the bar and decided it didn’t matter. I wanted one night with the hopes of more, but I’m also realistic. I’ll just have to wait and see. The ball is in his court now. I’m not going to be the girl who chases after a guy who isn’t into her.” She took a deep breath. “I have a feeling Conner isn’t the one-night stand type. I saw Adam in action last night, and Trenton is right about him being a player. But Conner was annoyed by the girls hanging on Adam. He said he hated that their apartment was a revolving door for Adam’s skanks. I don’t think Conner would say that if he was like that too.”

  “You’re probably right. Trenton said he kind of knows Conner and that he’s a good guy.”

  She smiled at that information. “Anywho, I was thinking about getting subs at Al’s Deli if you’re game. That way we can just walk.”

  “Works for me. I love their turkey subs.”

  “Cool. I need to get ready, so make yourself comfortable.”

  ***

  Sophie and I were absolutely stuffed when we left Al’s. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to eat cake on such a full stomach. We walked past Sophie’s apartment to the parking ramp and got into my Mustang. I cranked up the radio and set off for the bakery. Mother had made it clear that I needed to be on time, so we were proud of ourselves when we arrived fifteen minutes early.

  We weren’t the only ones ahead of schedule. Mother was already here with Monica. She looked lovely in cream capris and a silk capped sleeved shirt, and her light blond hair was done up in a French twist. She was speaking to the bakery shop owner and perusing through pictures. The owner was a stout woman with dark hair. She had a no nonsense approach as she discussed frostings with Mother. Monica was in the corner talking on her cell. Her dark brown hair was in a bun, and she looked nice in a pencil skirt and pink shirt. Monica was around fifty, as was my mother, but my mother looked as if she was in her early forties. I hoped I would age that well.

  When my mother noticed me, I saw a huge smile grace her normally stoic face. “Sienna honey, Margaret here was just explaining some of the options. She said she has a selection for us to try.” Her excitement was obvious. Who knew cake would make her so happy? Her happiness was short lived when she noticed what Sophie was wearing. “Sophie, nice to see you dressed appropriately for the occasion.” Her voice was dripping in unconcealed sarcasm.

  Without even batting an eyelash, Sophie replied, “I’m so glad you approve. I figured I’d put on shorts instead of my new micro mini, so I wouldn’t flash anyone my lady bits when I sat down.”

  I choked on my own spit. I couldn’t believe she just said that. I mean, I could, but they normally played a game of small jibes back and forth before Sophie brought out the big guns. My mother’s face instantly went red in fury and embarrassment. Margaret wisely took that as her cue to go get the cake. Monica was still on the phone, seemingly oblivious to the situation.

  If looks could kill, my mother just murdered Sophie. “You are lucky, young lady, that you’re not my daughter. I cannot believe your father allows you to talk and act this way. If he was my brother, I would give him a piece of my mind on how he raised you. Or rather his lack of raising you.”

  That was a low-blow. Sophie’s mom had basically bailed when she was five, moving to Chicago with a younger man. She only saw Sophie about once or twice a year. Like my father, Uncle Richard was a surgeon. Long hours at the hospital meant he rarely had time to spend with Sophie when she was growing up.

  Sophie placed her hand on her hip in preparation for a verbal war. “It’s a good thing that he’s just your brother-in-law then. You don’t have to worry about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong because he doesn’t give two shits about your opinion anyway.”

  I thought my jaw actually hit the pink and white tiled floor. I didn’t know if Sophie’s night of debauchery messed with her head, but she was severely overstepping the line this time. I had to stop this before it went any further.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa!” I threw my hands out between the two of them. “Let’s just calm down and enjoy the cake, okay? This is supposed to be a happy day.”

  Sophie decided to honor my wishes. “You’re right, Sienna. I’m sorry, Aunt Clarice. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me.”

  My mother wasn’t ready to extend the olive branch yet and opted for a single nod instead.

  Luckily, Margaret and another bakery employee came back into the room with a tray full of cake samples. They guided us to a small bistro table where we began to try the various options set before us. Mother and Sophie seemed to forget all about their squabble as soon as the cake hit their mouths.

  Sophie wiped her lips with her napkin. “Sienna, you have to get the devil’s food! It’s to die for.”

  My mother was still chewing but nodded her head up and down in agreement. I stuck my fork into the devil’s food cake, which was apparently so good that it caused them both to agree for once. The moist chocolate cake was the most delicious dessert I’d ever tasted. I felt every single one of my taste buds jump for joy and do a happy dance in my mouth as I let out a moan of approval.

  “We are so getting this one!” I exclaimed and took another bite.

  Monica had stepped outside during the tasting, and I was surprised when she came back in with a scowl on her face. “I am so sorry,” she said. “But it seems the florist can no longer meet with us today. She double booked the appointment. She apologized up and down and offered her assistant to help us instead, but I told her that was unacceptable. I’ve contacted another florist who is more than willing to meet with us in an hour. On the bright side, they are local, so we don’t have to drive to Milwaukee.” She paused. “What do you think?” She asked the question to me, but because it was really my mother the question was meant for, I didn’t even reply.

  Mother and Monica started a conversation regarding the situation, but I chose to tune them out, instead turning to Sophie. “I’ve had enough fun for one day. Let’s let them figure it out.” I interrupted Monica and my mother. “You two can choose the cake design and flowers. I trust you.”

  Mother looked at me in shock. “You need to pick them out with us. This is your wedding, for heaven’s sake.”

  I remembered Sophie’s words from yesterday. “No, I don’t have to do anything. That’s why we hired Monica.”

  I thanked Margaret and complimented her shop and then grabbed Sophie by the arm and headed for the door before Mother could protest further.

  Sophie burst out laughing as soon as we got into my car. “I cannot believe you just said and did that! I am so proud of you.” She leaned over the console and gave me a loose hug.

  “I’m glad you’re proud, but I actually feel like an ass now. I know they are trying to help, but after yesterday, I just want to go home. The florist canceling seemed like a sign to get the hell out of Dodge while I had the chance. “

  I pushed my guilt aside as Sophie propped her feet on the dash. We put on our sunglasses and left the bakery without a second glance. When we got to Sophie’s apartment, she asked me to come in and hang out since Trenton was playing football. I really just wanted to go home and relax, maybe catch up on the book I was reading. I told her I’d call her tomorrow and made my way back to the west side of the city.

  Chapter Five

  I walked into our apartment, slipped off my shoes, and set down my purse on the counter. I texted Trenton to let him know that I came home early from the bakery. I hit the send button and was surprised when I heard his phone buzzing behind me. I looked on the other counter and saw his phone sitting next to his wallet and car keys. Odd. I guess he didn’t get a game together after all.r />
  The living room was empty and the TV was off, so maybe he moved his nap from the couch to the bed. I went down the hall toward our bedroom, but stopped short outside the door when I heard the sounds that would be forever etched into my brain coming from the other side. I knew with every fiber of my being that opening that door would crush me, but the masochist in me didn’t listen. I turned the doorknob and saw my fiancé tangled in bed with a beautiful brunette.

  All at once, my entire reality completely shifted. Everything came at me in still frames, like slides in a morbid slideshow: The sweat on their bodies, the pleasure apparent on the woman’s face, her shocked expression at seeing me standing there, her arms covering her breasts, Trenton looking over his shoulder to see what startled her, his eyes locking with mine, the terror on his face.

  I didn’t know how long I stood in that doorway in a semi-catatonic state, but my name leaving Trenton’s lips brought me back to the present. How dare he say my name? How dare he speak to me at all?

  The woman hurried to grab her clothes while he yelled at her to leave. From the other side of the bed, Trenton threw a red lacy bra at the brunette as he hollered at her to dress faster. She brushed past me in the doorway as she exited the room. She was crying. Good. I was glad she was crying. I wasn’t crying, though. In fact, I couldn’t seem to open my mouth at all. Why is my voice broken? I wanted to scream at him, ask him why he did it, and tell him he just broke my heart, but I couldn’t find a way to make sound leave my throat.

  Trenton approached me slowly, as a person would approach a deer while hoping to not scare it off. He stood in front of me with the sheet wrapped around his waist. In that very moment, it occurred to me that I bought those sheets last week. Those are my sheets. He fucked someone else in MY sheets!

  “I’m sorry.” Those two words were like a slap to the face.

  He tried to wrap his arms around me, but I flung my arms frantically in an attempt to keep him from even touching me. My state of shock was over. I had moved on from shock to flat out hatred.

  I finally found my voice and screamed, “Stay away from me, you piece of shit asshole!”

  I ran to the kitchen, grabbed my purse, and sprinted for the door. I could hear him yelling for me to stop, telling me to stay, and even claiming that he loved me.

  “Fuck that and fuck you!” I slammed the door behind me so hard that I could hear the mirror that hung near it crash and break on the other side. I got in the elevator and hit the garage level button repeatedly, praying the door would close faster. When the elevator doors were almost closed, he appeared. For a second, I could see him through the small slit. He had taken the time to put on a pair of shorts.

  I realized I didn’t have on any shoes as soon as my feet hit the cool cement of the parking garage. Whatever. That was the least of my problems right now. I quickly ran to my car. As soon as I pulled out onto the road, tears began streaming down my face.

  ***

  I found a parking spot along the street in front of Sophie’s apartment. I hoped that no one would notice my lack of shoes. Who was I kidding? If anyone noticed me it would be because my face was stained with tear soaked mascara, causing me to resemble a blond version of Alice Cooper. I used my key and entered the lobby. I kept my composure somewhat intact until I got into the elevator, but as soon as the doors closed, I lost it all over again. I didn’t know that a person could cry so much. I was taken aback by how much emotion could pour from one’s eyes.

  As I walked to Sophie’s door, it dawned on me that I hadn’t called her on my way over. I’d shut off my phone, so that I wouldn’t have to keep hearing Trenton trying to call me. I prayed she was alone. The last thing I needed right now was a replay of this morning, so instead of using my key, I knocked. Nothing. I waited and knocked again. Maybe she was “busy” or wasn’t home. I decided to chance it and used my key.

  Sophie was on her living room floor, painting her toenails. She was humming along to whatever song was playing through her ear buds. She must have sensed my presence as I walked toward her because she looked up at the exact right moment. If her reaction was any indication of my appearance, I truly was a hot mess. She quickly put the cap on her polish, pulled out her ear buds, and wobbled to me on the heels of her feet. I started to hyperventilate when she pulled me into an embrace.

  “It’s okay. Let it out,” she soothingly whispered. I could feel the worry and love pouring from her as she held me and gently rubbed my hair. She leaned back to look at my face and then took her hands and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “What happened?”

  “Trenton.” I choked back another sob. “Cheated.”

  Her forehead crinkled. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “I saw it.” As the words left my mouth, the images came flooding back. Needing to sit down, I went to the overstuffed chair and collapsed onto it.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. You want me to kick his ass? I will. I’ll shove a stiletto so far up his ass that he’ll walk funny the rest of his life.”

  I managed a tiny laugh. “Only you could make me laugh at a time like this.”

  “I’m being serious,” she deadpanned. “I wasn’t trying to make you laugh.”

  “You did anyway, so thanks.”

  “Want to talk about it?” she tentatively asked.

  Did I want to talk about it? No. Right now I just wanted to hide. “I’m not ready to relive it quite yet. You don’t mind if I stay here, do you? I can go to my parents otherwise.”

  “There is no way I’d let you stay anywhere but right here with me. The guest room is your room for as long as you want it.”

  “I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve you.” I stood up and hugged her again. “I just need to be alone for a bit. Maybe I can fall asleep and forget for a while.

  She nodded. I hated the look of pity I saw in her eyes.

  I went to what was now my bedroom, crawled under the covers of the bed, and cried myself to sleep.

  I awoke with a pain shooting through my chest. Where was I? And what was wrong with me? Oh, right. I was at Sophie’s, and the pain was because my heart had been ripped out and thrown into a meat grinder. The sun was setting outside the window, indicating I must have been asleep for a few hours. As much as I wanted to stay holed up in this bed for the rest of my life, I owed it to Sophie to come out. She was probably worried sick. I knew I would be worried about her if the roles were reversed.

  As soon as I opened the door, I could hear the sound of the TV. She quickly hit mute and patted the couch cushion, urging me to sit by her. Once I was on the couch, she pulled my head down to her lap and began to run her fingers through my hair. I knew she was silently waiting for me to talk, and I appreciated that she wasn’t bombarding me with questions.

  After a couple of minutes, I sat up and turned to her. I pulled my legs up under my arms and began telling her exactly what had happened. I was proud of myself for not crying, but maybe there was a quota on tears per day, and I already met mine. It helped that Sophie didn’t interrupt or add her opinion. She just listened patiently and let me get it all off my chest.

  “ . . . Now you know all of the gruesome details,” I finished on an exhale. Telling her what had happened was a mixture of both relief and renewed pain. “How could he do this to me?” I choked out.

  After a small silence, she responded. “He’s a fool and an asshole.” She let out a heavy breath, and again I saw the same look of pity in her eyes as before. “I don’t have any great advice, Sienna. Even if I did, nothing I say will change anything or make it hurt any less. You have to heal in your own time. Will you please stay away from him for a few days to let yourself have time to process everything?”

  “That won’t be a problem. I never want to see him again.” Bitterness and venom laced my words.

  “I know you feel that way right now, but you will need to face him again.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “You need to at least work with him to get your stuff out of his ap
artment. You won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

  I gave a very small, compliant smile. “Okay, I guess I do need my things. You win.”

  That earned me a smile in return. “I always do.” She abruptly stood up, pulling me with her. “Alright, I have a bottle of tequila and a blender. They say the best cure for a heartache is a margarita, right?”

  “Huh? I’ve never heard that saying.”

  “You have now, so shut up, and let’s get drunk.”

  She grabbed my arm and led me to the kitchen before I could come up with any reason to not follow her. Through my entire life, Sophie had always hated to see me sad. I knew she’d always felt it her mission to make me happy, and tonight was going to be no different. The tough part was that this was a situation in which she couldn’t fix my happiness right away, so she went for the next best thing: to help me temporarily forget.

  After our first margarita, we decided to put on Pitch Perfect because Sophie and I both absolutely loved that movie. We’d seen it over a dozen times and could more or less quote the whole thing. By the third margarita, we were singing along. By our fifth margarita, we were very poorly dancing along. When I finished my sixth margarita too fast, I got a nasty brain freeze, so we decided to forget about the margaritas and the movie and go into the kitchen, so we could shoot tequila shots.

  We were laughing and having fun, which was something that I would’ve thought to be impossible tonight. I licked the salt from my wrist, swallowed my fourth shot and slammed the glass on the counter. We didn’t have limes, but we had one of those tiny lime-shaped bottles of lime juice, so I opened my mouth, and she squirted some of that on my tongue afterwards. I frickin’ love Sophie, and I really, really love tequila!

  I wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours that passed before the tequila turned traitorous, but I learned that Sophie’s saying about margaritas being the best cure for a heartache was dead right. I no longer cared about my heartache at all. I was too busy worrying about how to make the world stop spinning long enough to stop the vomit. Sophie was asleep in the bathtub, with one leg hanging off the side. My head was lying on the toilet seat. Classy. In my mind, I vehemently renounced my previous declaration of loving tequila.