The Truth in Lies (The Truth in Lies Saga) Read Online Free
Author: Jeanne McDonald
the key to his place at his head and walked out of his apartment without so much as speaking to him. I found that hard to believe, but went with it. Who was I to argue semantics?
While Olivia swore that was the end of things for her, it seemed too coincidental that mere days after their breakup an article appeared in the society page of the Sarasota Herald Tribune entitled, ‘ Sex, Drugs, and Rock –n– Roll: The real life of Tristan Wilder. ’ What was even more precarious was the fact that it was written by Jeremy London, who happened to be one of Olivia’s former clients.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Picking up my cell phone, I swiped the sand off the cover and stuffed it back into my pocket. It was impossible for me to ignore Olivia for long. She had a knack for catching me off guard, but today, I was determined to be left alone.
I stood up, wiped the granular sand off of my bare skin, and cast one last glance over the water. Then with a heavy heart, I adjusted my shirt and darted off in a fast sprint toward my car that was bound to take me back to my living prison.
Chapter Two
The house was just as empty as I left it. Casting a soft glow over the beige carpet, the afternoon sun blazed in through the slats of the white shades which covered the windows.
I kicked off my sneakers and trampled barefoot down the hall to the master suite. After a long, relaxing shower, I changed into my comfy jeans, white t-shirt, and favorite oversized brown cardigan. The thought of food nauseated me, but after running, I knew I needed the fuel. Reluctantly, I made a peanut butter sandwich and forced it down my throat.
Satisfied with my accomplishment, I decided to reward myself by sneaking into Evan’s nursery. The hinges of the door creaked as I opened it. The room was completely devoid of anything resembling the fact that a newborn baby was meant to reside there, save the lone rocking chair that sat by the window, facing where the crib should have been.
White walls stood bare and the carpet still held the impression of the furniture that had once been placed lovingly around the room. I tiptoed inside and closed the door behind me. The soft clank of the latch clicking into the frame calmed my nerves.
The room was dark, and I had no urge to turn on a light. Even the dank light that tried to creep into the room , through the window, was obliterated by the sorrow this room held. The sun sought to demolish that darkness, but the battle was a lost cause. Treading into the room, I stretched out my hand, touching the stained wood of the rocking chair that had been placed with love near what would’ve been the baby’s crib. Instead, all that remained was crushed carpet where the crib once stood.
I sat down in the rocker, thrusting my toes into the carpet. Usually, I would sit in the chair, rocking to and fro, until my sorrow overwhelmed me. In the depths of my despair, I’d dream of the child that should be in my arms, cooing and crying, needing my attention.
But today was different. Instead of seeing the faceless image of my unborn child resting in my arms, the moment I closed my eyes, I found myself transported back to the beach. It was a day just like today, warm and sunny, and oddly enough, I felt happy. A faint smile twitched across my lips, as someone took my hand. My whole body tingled at the sensation of his imagined touch.
I looked up into the eyes of the man, only to gasp when I realized who I had manifested in the role of my companion. It was the nameless man that I encountered on the beach earlier.
My mind reconstructed him inch by inch; his perfect white smile, the flare of his sharp nose as he breathed, his rounded lips, striking dimples, and his toned, smooth physique.
Warmth flooded my body at the memory of him looking back at me. His piercing blue eyes burrowed into the depths of my soul. I imagined him cocooning me in his
While Olivia swore that was the end of things for her, it seemed too coincidental that mere days after their breakup an article appeared in the society page of the Sarasota Herald Tribune entitled, ‘ Sex, Drugs, and Rock –n– Roll: The real life of Tristan Wilder. ’ What was even more precarious was the fact that it was written by Jeremy London, who happened to be one of Olivia’s former clients.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Picking up my cell phone, I swiped the sand off the cover and stuffed it back into my pocket. It was impossible for me to ignore Olivia for long. She had a knack for catching me off guard, but today, I was determined to be left alone.
I stood up, wiped the granular sand off of my bare skin, and cast one last glance over the water. Then with a heavy heart, I adjusted my shirt and darted off in a fast sprint toward my car that was bound to take me back to my living prison.
Chapter Two
The house was just as empty as I left it. Casting a soft glow over the beige carpet, the afternoon sun blazed in through the slats of the white shades which covered the windows.
I kicked off my sneakers and trampled barefoot down the hall to the master suite. After a long, relaxing shower, I changed into my comfy jeans, white t-shirt, and favorite oversized brown cardigan. The thought of food nauseated me, but after running, I knew I needed the fuel. Reluctantly, I made a peanut butter sandwich and forced it down my throat.
Satisfied with my accomplishment, I decided to reward myself by sneaking into Evan’s nursery. The hinges of the door creaked as I opened it. The room was completely devoid of anything resembling the fact that a newborn baby was meant to reside there, save the lone rocking chair that sat by the window, facing where the crib should have been.
White walls stood bare and the carpet still held the impression of the furniture that had once been placed lovingly around the room. I tiptoed inside and closed the door behind me. The soft clank of the latch clicking into the frame calmed my nerves.
The room was dark, and I had no urge to turn on a light. Even the dank light that tried to creep into the room , through the window, was obliterated by the sorrow this room held. The sun sought to demolish that darkness, but the battle was a lost cause. Treading into the room, I stretched out my hand, touching the stained wood of the rocking chair that had been placed with love near what would’ve been the baby’s crib. Instead, all that remained was crushed carpet where the crib once stood.
I sat down in the rocker, thrusting my toes into the carpet. Usually, I would sit in the chair, rocking to and fro, until my sorrow overwhelmed me. In the depths of my despair, I’d dream of the child that should be in my arms, cooing and crying, needing my attention.
But today was different. Instead of seeing the faceless image of my unborn child resting in my arms, the moment I closed my eyes, I found myself transported back to the beach. It was a day just like today, warm and sunny, and oddly enough, I felt happy. A faint smile twitched across my lips, as someone took my hand. My whole body tingled at the sensation of his imagined touch.
I looked up into the eyes of the man, only to gasp when I realized who I had manifested in the role of my companion. It was the nameless man that I encountered on the beach earlier.
My mind reconstructed him inch by inch; his perfect white smile, the flare of his sharp nose as he breathed, his rounded lips, striking dimples, and his toned, smooth physique.
Warmth flooded my body at the memory of him looking back at me. His piercing blue eyes burrowed into the depths of my soul. I imagined him cocooning me in his
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