Page 105 of Tell Me All Your Lies

“No, I suppose not.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, and I set mine down on the coffee table.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Did you really not remember what happened in Barcelona when you took the Holden contract?”

Barcelona.

Fuck.

I hadn’t at the time, but now, as I watch the love of my life look pained, I remember it all. What she told me about them not believing in her as a woman, not feeling good enough in the field, all of it.

“You didn’t,” she whispers, relieved.

“Cara, I promise I didn’t. I wouldn’t have done business with them at all if I had. Do you believe me?”

She sets down her coffee and then takes my hands in hers.

“I do.”

“Fuck. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t. Really. I believe you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she says with a squeeze of my hands.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“You told me to tell all those fuckfaces to fuck right off if they couldn’t see the talent and brilliance that you see in me,” she says with a laugh.

I let go of her hands and scratch the back of my neck.

“Fuckfaces, huh? Real smooth of me.”

“It helped. I was so distraught, and it brought a sense of ease.”

“I suppose that’s good, at least.”

I lean back into the corner of the sofa. Cara tucks her legs under her as she leans one arm on the back of it and rests her head on her hand.

“You also told me how great I was in the field. Grant, you have no idea how much you inspired me.”

“I thought I was just a thorn in your side,” I tease.

“Well, you were certainly that too.”

“It was fun tormenting you.”

“Oh, believe me, I know you were having a good time when you would get somewhere first or catch the culprit before I arrived.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t find the same sense of victory when it was you.”

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