Page 16 of The Lies That Shatter
Mel looks unsure of what I’m about to say, but her eyes narrow at the mere mention of McKenna. “What about it?”
“I was trying to be helpful by offering to walk her home, but it almost felt like you didn’t trust me or my motives. I wanted to ask you why?”
A deep sigh escapes her, and despite her rigid posture, her shoulders drop slightly. “I saw the way she looked at you. It’s the way most women stare at you when you walk into a room. Sometimes it feels like I’m with a celebrity. She stared at you like you’re a giant piece of chocolate cake that she wanted to dive headfirst into.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me as I think about how much Mac would laugh if she heard that analogy. She’s a sucker for a chocolate cake. Mel doesn’t look thrilled at me laughing, but I shrug it off. “I’m sure women don’t really stare at me all the time.” Before she has a chance to argue with me, I continue. “But even if shedidlook at me like that, it doesn’t mean I was looking at her.”
In fact, I made a conscious fucking effortnotto look at her. If I had, I’m sure this would've been a very different conversation.
“I know you weren’t. But then you offered to walk her home and…well, I got jealous. Is that what you wanted to hear?” she snaps, pulling her hand out of mine, so she can push a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.
“Mel, you have nothing at all to be jealous about.”
She tuts, her hand wafting as though to wave me off like she doesn’t believe me. “So, you don’t think she’s beautiful?”
That's a loaded question, and I’m not falling for it. “Of course she’s beautiful. Anybody can see that. But that doesn’t mean I’m interested in her. She’s not my type.” The words taste like acid on my tongue as I try to make Mel believe the obvious lie. McKenna isn’t just my type, and she’s more than fucking beautiful. She’s my everything.
“I knew you thought she was beautiful,” Mel snaps, clearly not listening to anything else I just said.
I take her hand in mine, and with my other, I grab hold of her chin and lift until she’s looking straight at me. I make my gaze as fiery as I can—a look I’ve perfected over the years. “I can admire a woman’s beauty without being attracted to her. I can also tell when men are hot, but it doesn’t mean I’m interested in them. I have a specific type of woman that I find attractive, and your nurse doesn’t fall into that category at all.”
Mel’s brows furrow, but I can see she’s melting a little. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this conversation. Older women tend to be a little self-conscious and jealous of younger women. “And what exactly is your type?” Her tone takes on a flirty edge.
“Well, I have a thing for more mature women. I like someone who knows what they want in life, and isn’t afraid to go for it. I don’t like playing games, and I don’t like being messed about—which is something girls my age seem to be fond of.” The bullshit just spills out of me, and Mel’s face lights up.
“I know exactly what I want…you,” she says, before she leans in and captures my lips with hers. It’s only a short kiss—thank fuck—as she’s still a high society lady, and we’re in a public place.
“I made it clear when we started seeing each other that I don’t want any games. I also said I was happy for us just to get to know each other and see how it goes, but I’m not sure if I still mean that.”
Her breath hitches, and I reel her in perfectly. “What do you mean?”
“I like you, Mel. The more time I spend with you, the more I want. But you’ve been honest with me from the start about your husband…”
“What about him?” she snaps, cutting me off before I can finish.
“Look, can I be honest?” I ask, and she simply nods her head.
“I thought we have been honest with each other,” she mumbles.
I reach up and cup her cheek with my hand, trying to be as gentle as I can. She leans into my touch, and suddenly looks very vulnerable. “I know we’re reaching that stage where we are going to have sex, and believe me when I say, I can’t bloody wait. But I also want more. I know that after the first time I make love to you, I will want all of you. It’s the same feeling I get when we part ways at the end of a date—I never want it to end, and I count down the days until the next time I get to see you. I want us to be together, but I know we can never have that…and it hurts.”
Fuck, even I’m making myself feel nauseous with all this soppy bullshit. Whenever I bring out the big romantic Disney-style speeches, I always think they’re so over the top it will blow my cover, but every time the women shock me.
Women love it when I say sappy shit, and Mel is no exception. Her eyes light up and she presses her cheek further into my palm, almost like a cat searching for that perfect angle to be petted.
“I want that, too. I want us to be together…for you to make love to me. I don’t see any reason why we can’t have that,” she states, and I have to hold back the chuckle as I try to make my voice sound as far from sarcastic as I can.
“What about your husband?”
She doesn’t even have the audacity to look ashamed that she forgot she was married. She just sort of shrugs her shoulders like it’s not an issue. “What about him?”
My eyes widen and I’m sure she can see the look of confusion that’s written across my face. “Do you love him?”
Now it’s Mel’s turn to look startled, almost like she can’t believe I would ask her something like this. I’m not sure if there is any etiquette for if a boyfriend should talk to his girlfriend about the husband that she’s cheating on with him, but if there is, I think I may have just broken all the rules.
Mel lets out a sigh that feels more sad than I was expecting. “I did love him once…a really long time ago. But we haven’t been in love with each other for a very long time.”
“So why stay married to him?”
