Love, Hate, and Other Lies We Told by Deirdre Riordan Hall

Author:Deirdre Riordan Hall [Hall, Deirdre Riordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781541136137
Amazon: 1541136136
Goodreads: 33660361
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2017-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Toodles

"I haven't brushed my teeth," I hiss at Katya, making no movement closer to Carrick's table.

"But thankfully you got out of bed, what with this brunch date and all," she says, thrusting me toward him.

"This is not a date and," I sputter, "it's not what it looks like."

"Then explain what it is," she says, giving my bundled appearance a once-over. "You look like you just rolled out of bed."

"I did. Do I have you to thank?" I ask suspiciously.

"I heard you making plans and didn't want you to oversleep." She shrugs. "Sorry, not sorry. At least you could have brushed," she tucks her head back as though disgusted by my general appearance, "something."

"I had a rough night."

"I heard."

"What did you hear?"

Before either one of us can confess, Carrick says, "Good morning. Didn't know you were joining us too, Katya."

Neither one of us responds.

His confusion is short lived when Kat looks at her non-existent watch and says, "Gotta run. So funny to see you both here," she says, feigning ignorance. "Small world, always running into each other." She finishes with a nervous laugh.

"We were meeting for brunch," Carrick says, confirming her suspicions.

Kat pauses. "Oh really? Was that a promise you made?" she asks, angling a sharp eyebrow at me.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I blurt.

"Yeah," Carrick says with a smile. "You sure you can't join us?" he asks Katya as though the present conversation and the one we should have won't be awkward enough.

"Aw, thank you. That's so sweet. But I really should get going. I have to teach a class soon. You two enjoy brunch. The Challah bread they have here is the best in town. Toodles." She waves and then rushes off. A few eyes follow her out of the restaurant, but a few others train on Carrick, towering over our table. Tension ripples off us like steam from a fresh cup of coffee.

"I'm, uh, not feeling well," I say.

At this point, it's no lie. I sense people watching, maybe I really do look as bad as I feel, and customers are afraid I'm going to hurl all over their freshly made breakfasts.

"You should have called. We could have planned a different time."

"I lost your number."

"Shouldn't it be on your phone from when you called last night?" he asks, puzzled.

"My phone battery died."

Just then, it beeps in my hand. I reflexively glance at it. Kat wrote Sit down.

I don't.

"Oh, look at that. It must have recharged." My words sound as weak as I suddenly feel.

"Navy, this is hard for me too," Carrick says.

I meet his eyes, challenging him. "Is it?"

"Believe it or not, yes."

"Why? Because you can hardly live with yourself for the guilt or because you can't seem to move on?" That's not what I meant to say. I really wanted to let him have it with a verbal assault like I did last night, but surrounded by a roomful of brunch time civility and the unease tossing in my stomach, I relent.

Behind the finely cultivated Kennely mask of good breeding and manners, his face falls, or at least that's what I want to see.

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