Lies That Bind by Diana Rodriguez Wallach

Author:Diana Rodriguez Wallach
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure;travel;spies;conspiracy;London;brazil;family;sisters;betrayal;bad boy;friends;disinformation;politics
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Saint Paul de Vence was much like Tuscany, only the people spoke French and everything smelled of lavender. It was a medieval mountain town, a day trip from the beaches of the French Riviera, and it was lined with ancient stone streets featuring shops selling everything from tablecloths to modern art to local herbs. Chalice-shaped fountains gurgled almost lyrically as photo-worthy alleys peeked behind every corner. Roads were so narrow cars couldn’t drive, making it a walking city, much like Venice. Ah, memories. I was haunted by them.

I spent the entire high-speed train to France reliving the London Eye, not the views, not the sunset, but the last five minutes, especially four specific words—“She’s not my girlfriend.” I wouldn’t let Marcus take them back. Not in the pod when we descended back to Earth. Not in Julian’s car when he tried to hold my hand. And not later that night when he knocked on my hotel room door. Taking it back, trying to offer some retroactive explanation wouldn’t change the fact that he said it, that he meant it, at least in that moment. The thought was in his head. He would never be able to suck the tears back up from my cheeks, the ones that fell the moment I got back to my room and slammed the door.

I’d never had a boyfriend. I knew I was doing everything wrong. I didn’t flip my hair. I didn’t sit on his lap. I didn’t let us go all the way the night after Antonio arrived. Maybe that was a mistake, or maybe I got lucky. I didn’t know. There was no advice column or horoscope to offer insight on how to talk to your boyfriend while your friends were being murdered and your parents were implicated in their deaths. We were complicated. I was complicated. But that was what made us work; at least that was what I thought. Except it seemed we only worked when it was my parents who were the bad guys. The second his brother entered the mix, the second I mentioned his parents might be corrupt, Marcus pulled away. I felt it the moment Antonio insisted his family wasn’t “that bad.” Sure, they knew about Department D, they worked for the organization, but they didn’t really do bad things. Marcus jumped on that, and any suggestion I made to the contrary, any theory, pushed him further away. He told his brother I didn’t trust him. He probably told his brother much worse than that. What else did he really think of me? And he wondered why I stopped us that night?

“Who needs a StairMaster when you can live in Europe?” Keira grunted as we climbed the steep hills of Provence. Even wearing sneakers, our ankles twisted on rounded rocks that were probably set in concrete sometime during the reign of Louis XIV. And we thought Boston was old.

“Seriously. There is no excuse for anyone living here not to have a butt like J.Lo.”

Keira and I didn’t chat much on the train, but in a good way.

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