Page 60 of Reckless Liar

“We all have regrets. That doesn’t mean you deserved how he treated you.” Xander said softly, he turned his head to meet my eyes.

“You say you know me. But I don’t think you do.” I leaned forward, placing a hand on the side of his cheek. “If we’re going to keep going in this direction, I need you to understand that. I’m not a glass toy about to shatter. I can never come close to that girl you’ve built up in your mind. I can see who you think I am.”

“But I do see you. I know therealyou. I know the way you hum that angsty song from the 80s when you’re in the shower. I know when you get stressed you clean.“ He leaned closer, his lips inches from mine. “I know you have a little freckle behind your left earlobe. I know that you have a scar on your ankle from a bike accident. I know the way you gasp a little every time I kiss you.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Don’t distract me from my rant, Xander. I need to say this. You need to hear it.”

He pulled away enough for me to breathe steadier. “Okay.”

I looked down at the floor, counting the swirls on the rug until I got to fourteen. “I can’t be whatever this image is in your head. All I’d do is disappoint you. If you care about me the way you say you do, believe me when I say, I’m not that girl.”

“Do you want me to insult you? Do you want me to name all your bad traits? I’ll do it if it’d convince you I know what I’m doing here.”

I laughed a small laugh. “No, I don’t think my pride could handle that.”

His expression turned somber. He reached forward and took my hand in his. “My eyes are wide open. If I want to love you, I will. Maybe you can’t see what I see; you’re blind to all the wonderful things about you. And that’s okay.”

He leaned over and kissed me. I wanted to pull him closer, pull him on top of me. But he pulled away. He fixed his eyes on me. I sat there breathless from his kiss.

“Don’t tell me I don’t know you, Liliana.”

I was struck by how bare he made me feel. He didn’t shy away from honest questions no matter how loaded they could be, how one wrong word could end us so quickly, whatever us was. I could break him with one word. That power sickened me, and yet I was drunk on it. In all my years with Max I never felt that. I had no power over Max.

Was this what Xander meant when he said I didn’t understand love? Is it trusting that the other person wouldn’t break you? Could loving someone mean deciding that the pain could be worth it all? A steady faith in another person’s choices? Could it be that simple?

Chapter twenty-three

“I'm on my way.” -Scarlett still sitting in her bathrobe to Ana.

WhileIdon’twantto go to my parent’s annual New Year’s party, the idea of going to the bar was even worse. I couldn’t venture out after hours anymore and be around people who barely knew Max drunkenly reminiscing about the past. I hated all the questions and the way people could simultaneously be careful and cruel.

This year, I’d finally cowed to my mother’s insistence I go to their party. When I got off the phone with her, I looked up to see Xander watching me, surprise in his eyes.

“Did I hear that right?” he asked.

I set the phone down and leveled my eyes with his. “It would seem so. My mother said it’d mean a great deal to her to have me there. I think she wants to show me off to some of her friends who are parents of eligible young men and try to marry me off.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How old-fashioned. I hope she’s been saving up for your dowry.”

“Yeah. That’s not how she framed it, but I know her.” I grabbed a rag off the sink and began wiping down the counter, scrubbing at a small spot of dried coffee. “She thinks I should be moving on by now.”

“So, I’m guessing you haven’t told her about us?” he asked, stepping around the counter to stand by my side.

I slapped the rag down in the sink and looked up at him. “We don’t talk like that. She means well, but...” I sighed. “You know, Scarlett and her mom are best friends. She tells her mom everything. I think she told her mom about Emma before she told me. I wish I could say my mom and I have that type of relationship, but we don’t.”

I turned to face him. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but I know if I don’t, my mom won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“What if I went with you?”

“Like a date? Because I certainly didn’t tell my mother we’ve been making out on the sly.”

He frowned at me. At first, I thought he’d be mad about how I made our relationship sound casual, but instead he leaned closer to me. “It could be whatever you want it to be. We can be just friends, or it could be a date. It’s up to you.”

“Okay,” I said, looking away from him.

“Okay to friends, or okay to it being a date?” he asked, nervous.

I knew I couldn’t decide. I knew I’d vacillate between what I wanted until we walked into the party.

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