Page 50 of Unsaid Things
Abby tried not to stiffen in his arms, but couldn’t stop her initial reaction. She finished pushing the buttons on the microwave before she answered. “Um, as good as can be expected, all things considered.”
“Hmm.” Lance’s noncommittal hum rumbled in his chest, the vibrations normally soothing to Abby, but right now she wanted space. But he kept her between himself and the stove under the microwave. “What’s wrong with her? You never said.”
“Oh, um, I didn’t?” Of course she didn’t, because there wasn’t anything wrong with her mom. Nothing new, anyway. “Oh, uh, well, that’s why they’re doing tests. They don’t know exactly what’s wrong.”
He grunted. “What kind of tests are they doing? And since you gave her the money earlier this week, do you know if they’ve done them yet?”
Shit. Why was he asking so many questions? Because he was a good guy and the best boyfriend she’d ever had. God, she hated lying to him. For a brief moment Megan’s words echoed in her brain that she should tell Lance the truth. Now was as good a time as any for that kind of confession, both of them blissful and sated. But what if he got mad? Would he understand why she’d lied in the first place? And how would he ever find out anyway? She could just tell him that they didn’t find anything serious with her mom in a week or so and that would be that.
She took a deep breath. “Um, yeah, I think so. They did a blood draw already, and she’s supposed to get an MRI I think this week. I was planning on calling tomorrow to check in and see if there’s any news.” Any news on whether Aaron had left or not yet.
Lance gave her a little squeeze and let go, the beeping of the microwave drawing her attention back to the food. She was glad he’d moved away, filling water glasses for both of them. She avoided looking at him, though she could feel his gaze like a physical weight. Lying to him sucked. And it was almost impossible that he believed her, since she was a terrible liar. The only other time she’d lied to him was when she’d tried to get out of spending time with him shortly after they’d met. She hadn’t trusted him at the time, hadn’t trusted his motives—the football player with the player reputation. But he’d called her on it then, so maybe he believed her now.
She couldn’t justify her lie anymore—not even to herself—but it was too late. She’d lied in a moment of panic, and now she got a twisting, sinking feeling in her gut whenever the topic came up. How was she going to fix this?
