Liars Like Us (Morally Gray Book 1)

“He’s still out there.”

“I know. Ignore him.”

Gazing out the front window of the shop, Vivienne grimaces. “He makes it kinda hard.”

And how.

In a posture he must have stolen from his buddy Killian Black, Callum leans against the wall of ValUBooks, one leg propped up against it, arms crossed over his chest. He’s not wearing mirrored sunglasses, however, and is making no attempt to disguise how he’s staring openly in our direction.

He’s been doing that every day for the past six weeks.

He said he’d haunt me, but I had no idea he’d be doing it this closely.

“Just don’t look over there. We’re only indulging his nonsense. Here, unpack this for me.”

I slide an unopened box of books across the counter toward her, purposely avoiding allowing my gaze to stray anywhere near the front window. Sighing, Viv turns her attention to the box.

I look at her expression, a mix of sadness and longing, and know she’s upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Unlike someone I know, Viv is a terrible liar.

“Viv, look at me.” When she does, I ask again, “What’s wrong?”

Making a face, she flattens her hands on the countertop. “I feel bad for him.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I know, I know, he’s a weenie, but…”

“But what?”

“But look at him. He’s miserable.”

I prop a hand on my hip and snort. “You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t marry the guy!”

“Yeah, but that’s when I thought you’d only be marrying him for his money.”

“Newsflash, genius: I did only marry him for his money.”

“I know, but now it’s different.”

“How the hell is it different now?”

“Because he married you for love.”

When I sigh and roll my eyes, she adds, “Plus, I know you actually married him for more than his money. You like the guy.”

“If I had melanoma, I’d like it more than him.”

“You’re just mad.”

“Oh, how wrong of me!”

My sarcasm isn’t lost on her. She sighs again, shaking her head. “I can’t tell you what to do, obviously, but if it were me, I’d forgive him.”

“Yeah, but you’re the hopeless romantic around here, not the one who was wooed under false pretenses. I’ll be in my office if you need me. I can’t stand the view out here anymore.”

I head to the back of the shop, feeling the weight of Callum’s gaze on me as I go. Even across distance and through glass, the man’s focus is palpable. If I have to endure this for the rest of my life, I’ll go mad.

Which is probably all part of his evil plan.

I sit at my desk, rub my eyes, and force myself not to look at the signed copy of Outlander lying next to the computer. I keep meaning to put it out of sight, but haven’t found the time.

Yes, I’m aware that I’m fibbing to myself. I’m not sure if this is the denial or the bargaining stage, but whatever it is, I’m smack in the middle of it.

I’ve been sleeping on Dani’s living room sofa, unable to commit to finding myself a place to live. Every morning, I wake up determined to go house hunting, but by noon I’ve decided to wait another day, telling myself that times of turmoil are bad for making big decisions.

Which of course has nothing to do with seeing Callum loitering like a broody, hot vagrant in front of ValUBooks every day.

Nothing at all.

I’d take a swig of whiskey, but have been on the wagon since returning from the Four Seasons. Though I’m loath to admit it, Callum was correct when he said liquor hasn’t been helping me deal with my problems. I’ve started taking long runs after work instead, ignoring the jogger who always follows at a comfortable distance behind me, stopping when I pause to catch my breath, sprinting when I sprint, and generally making it obvious that he’s stalking me.

Several times, I’ve considered running into traffic to see if he’d follow. I never do it because I know I’d be devastated if he were to get hit.

I mean if he got hit and died I’d be devastated. It would be fine if he only got banged up. A few broken bones would serve him right, the obsessive jerk. And maybe knock some sense into him.

My desk phone rings. “Lit Happens, how may I help you?”

“Hey, babe. It’s Dani.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you’d go with me and Ryan to a party tonight. We got a babysitter.”

“What kind of party?”

“A Halloween party.”

“Ha! That would be a no.”

“Oh, come on. You need to get off the sofa. I have a costume you can wear and everything. It will be a good distraction for you.”

“You know what happened the last time I went to a Halloween party, right?”

“Yes, but are you determined to live your life in the past or what?”

She has a point. I heave a sigh and relent. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“Yay!”

“But if I’m having a horrible time, I’m taking an Uber home.”

“Deal. See you later.”

She hangs up, a little too gleeful for my mood. But I owe it to her not to be a drag tonight. She and poor Ryan have been putting up with me moping around their house for weeks. The least I can do is fake a smile for one night.

When I leave the shop that afternoon, I notice that Callum has left his usual spot against the wall of ValUBooks. Surprised by that, I tell myself it’s a good omen. Maybe he’s finally getting the hint that I’ll never speak to him again.

Back at Dani’s, I find her in her bedroom, trying on a giant black witch’s hat.

“What do you think?”

“I think you won’t be able to walk through the door in that thing. Where did you get it?”

“Amazon. Should I wear that purple one instead?”

She points to her bed, which is strewn with witch hats in various colors and sizes. “I like the crooked one with the green band. What am I wearing?”

“Here.” She goes into the closet, then returns holding a flowing white gossamer gown on a hanger and a pair of iridescent wings that sparkle blue and green under the ceiling lights. Draped around the neck of the hanger is a crystal-covered crown.

“What am I supposed to be? A fairy?”

“An elf queen! Like what’s-her-face in Lord of the Rings.”

“Galadriel,” I say, pleased by the choice. I’ve always wanted to be tall and immortal. This is as close as I’ll ever get.

Dani holds the gown up against me and gestures to the mirror on the back of the closet door. “Look how pretty. I have fake pointy ear tips you can stick on too. I’ve got a bunch of makeup out on the bathroom counter if you want to play around with it.”

She returns to her witch hat collection, and I head into the bathroom to get changed. Half an hour later, I emerge with a full face of makeup, wings, a crown, and a pair of pointy ears that Mr. Spock would be super jealous of.

When Dani sees me, she jumps up and down, clapping. She’s in full witch regalia, including a slinky black dress and a fake nose with a big wart on the end.

“Oh my God! You look amazing!”

“Thank you. Shouldn’t I be wearing a blonde wig?”

“You’d look all washed out with blonde hair. You’ll be a brunette Galadriel. Wow, that gown is low-cut. Your boobs are practically waving hello to me.”

“Thanks for making me self-conscious.”

Grabbing my arm, she says, “Never mind. The baby sitter just got here, so we’re gonna hit the road. Ryan’s waiting in the living room.”

When we walk into the living room, we find Ryan—dressed as one of those flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz—chatting up the babysitter, a smiling gray-haired lady who seems like she’d be a really nice grandma. We say our goodbyes, pile into Ryan’s Jeep, and hit the road.

“So where is this party, anyway?” I ask from the back seat.

“Pacific Palisades,” answers Ryan. “If we don’t hit traffic, we should be there in half an hour or so. Dani’s in charge of the music.”

She finds a Reggae station, and we all sing along to Bob Marley. The drive goes by quickly. I was expecting the party to be at a club or restaurant for some reason, but we park on a lovely, tree-lined street in a residential area overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The sun is starting to set, and the sky is awash in a blaze of color.

“Who’s house is this?” I ask as we approach a large Mediterranean-style home with a sprawling front lawn. Other people walk down the street toward us, dressed in colorful costumes, talking and laughing as they come.

“A friend of a friend,” says Ryan. “I got the invitation second hand, but my buddy said everyone was welcome. This house is awesome, right?”

As we walk through the open front door, Dani and I murmur in agreement.

The main foyer opens to a living room that has an unobstructed view of the ocean. The house is decorated in tasteful earth tones. The furnishings are contemporary but not cold, and there are plants of various sizes and varieties everywhere, lending a subtle lush, tropical atmosphere.

It’s already crowded.

We make our way through the living room to the patio outside, where Dani and Ryan get in line for the bar. Impressed by the grounds and not wanting a drink, I wander down past the pool to the far end of the yard where an incredible thicket of scarlet bougainvillea spills over a stone wall. The view beyond the wall is spectacular. For miles in each direction, the sea shimmers cobalt under the sunset sky.

I feel oddly at home here. This is exactly the sort of place I’d buy for myself.

Wondering if the owner would sell, I turn and head back toward the bar. Dani and Ryan are nowhere to be seen, so I go back inside, looking for them.

When I round a corner from the living room to the hallway, I trip over something in my way.

It’s a foot.

A big foot, clad in a black shoe.

I catch only a glimpse of it before I teeter and start to topple forward, a strangled cry escaping my lips.

A hand shoots out and grabs my upper arm, preventing me from falling. Then I’m dragged against a hard chest. A low voice growls in my ear.

“Careful, little elf. You don’t want to break that pretty crown of yours.”

My pulse surges. I look up into a hard, handsome face with burning dark eyes, and I can’t help the small gasp that slips out of me.

Callum stares at me like I’m the rising sun, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen daylight.

I don’t pull away. I should, but I’m too busy drinking in his scent and drowning in his eyes to coordinate a retreat. Like always, he short-circuits my brain and plugs directly into my central nervous system.

Being this close to him after so many weeks apart sets my whole body on fire. I could burn the house down with this heat I’m generating.

Breathless, my heart pounding like mad, I say, “How gallant. Thank you for saving me, mister…?”

“Snape.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “Severus Snape.”

This man is truly unbelievable. He couldn’t have chosen a more fitting costume to represent the anti-hero he is than the cunning and complicated professor of wizardry at Hogwarts in the Harry Potter series, an expert in the Dark Arts whom nobody knows is good or evil until the end, where he proves his loyalty by sacrificing himself and gaining redemption for seven books worth of assholery.

I don’t know if this is an astonishing display of self-awareness or a calculated ploy to give the impression that he’s got a good side lurking under all his shortcomings, but I’m impressed nonetheless.

If nothing else, at least he’s a Harry Potter fan.

“Ah. That would explain the cape and the air of foreboding.”

Releasing my arm, he adjusts my crown, then gently brushes his knuckles across my cheek. He murmurs, “I’m only foreboding on the outside, elf queen. On the inside, for you, it’s all mush.”

Swallowing around the lump that has formed in my throat, I gaze up at him and wish I could summon a little more anger and a lot less longing to feel his mouth on mine.

We stare into each other’s eyes, the party forgotten, the crowd disappeared. There’s nobody but the two of us in our own small bubble of dysfunction.

I whisper, “Is that a tattoo of my name on your forearm?”

“You can read. You know it is.”

“Just checking. I didn’t tell anyone about the Thirteen.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

The emotion in his eyes is overwhelming. “Because you’re everything good and true, and I trust you. With my heart, with my life, with everything I am, I trust you, Emery. And I’ve never loved anyone more.”

“Callum. Goddammit.” I can barely get the words out, I’m so choked up.

He takes my face in his hands and presses his forehead to mine. His voice low and urgent, he says, “Let’s start over. Give me another chance.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you made a vow to never leave me. Because despite all my faults, you know we’re good together.” He presses the softest of kisses to my lips. “And because you’re in love with me, sweet little elf, even if you don’t want to be.”

I really fucking hate it when he’s right.

But because we’re a couple of big fat liars, I swipe the water from my eyes, straighten my shoulders, and lift my chin. Looking him in the eye, I say coldly, “I’m not in love with you. Not even a little bit.”

There’s a pause where the world spins silently, and my heartbeat thrums.

Then he smiles at the same time I do and crushes his mouth to mine.

The kiss is long and passionate. I hear catcalls from somewhere in the background but ignore them. When we draw apart, both of us panting, I say, “You own this house, don’t you?”

“Yes. I thought you might like it better than the Bel Air place.”

“And you’re the one who invited Dani and Ryan to this party, didn’t you?”

“Don’t blame them. They felt obligated.”

“Why?”

“Because I set up a college trust fund for Mia and bought a condo for Ryan’s father.”

“Callum?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

When I narrow my eyes at him, he grins.

It’s going to be a disaster. I already know it will be. When liars like us fall in love, everything else falls apart.

But, for now at least, we’re falling together.