The Lie, Natalie Wrye [ebook reader play store txt] 📗

doesn't feel that way. Why would the car feel that way?”

“I don't know, but it feels that way.”

It does. I feel the car starting to slide.

I lean on the brakes, but the car only slides more.

I hit the horn, trying to warn other cars of the problem, but the damn device barely makes a sound.

Shit.

It all feels eerily familiar.

Just like last night in the limo.

The night we almost crashed after leaving the rehearsal dinner in one of the rented cars.

Sabrina’s car is going to slide.

And I can’t do anything to stop it.

My eyes shoot over into the passenger seat, checking to see if Sabrina’s seatbelt is secured. Finding it across her chest, I brace myself—and her.

Pushing one arm against my sister’s chest, I spin the wheel one-handed. Car horns blare around us, blasting out my ear drums.

Through the rain and sleet and ice, the Benz’s tires finally lose all traction and we slide. We slide in a circle, the luxury car hightailing into a deadly spin that has us looping like a merciless merry go-round.

My heart hammers, threatening to break out of my chest.

I hear Sabrina scream.

And it’s enough to bring me back in control.

Control of the car.

Control of my life.

I whip the wheel around, sending the car spinning to the side of the road. The big-bodied Benz finally slows down, at last jerking to a muddied stop as it perches haphazardly on the side of the road.

The side where the tire popped starts smoking.

I look at Sabrina—one of the family members I have left, my throat closing. My arm is still across her chest—a second seatbelt, and she places her hand over it, her warm fingers wrapping and pressing hard as she looks up at me.

Her brown eyes glitter on the other side as she releases a long breath.

“Okay, you’ve got it…” she says. “I’ll keep up your lie. But first, I’m going to need another bucket. Your sexcapades aside, I think I’m going to puke for the second time today.”

Chapter 21

NANCY

The day’s a little cloudier when I leave Domino behind and head to The Alchemist.

The city seems quieter as I exit my brownstone and jump back into Sabrina’s BMW, my thoughts racing faster than the Beemer’s expensive tires as I make my way to the other side of Manhattan, navigating amongst a sea of pedestrians and yellow taxis.

The hum of the city is the backdrop to my turmoil as I consider my future and the things (or people) that may or may not be in it.

Sliding a pair of dark sunglasses into my rose-colored hair, I turn on the radio, hearing a slow, sultry Elvis song that reminds me of the man I left back in Connecticut.

Andrew.

Lincoln.

Billionaire.

Bartender.

Playboy. Prick. Lover.

Good man.

He was all of them—at once, a walking mystery of magnitudes I’d still yet to explore.

He’s on my mind even as I head towards The Alchemist, preparing myself to talk to Eric, who I know is on shift today.

The blond former Wall Street broker who I’d actually considered husband material at one point feels like a lifetime ago, and I try to remember what it felt like before this weekend, when I’d been the type of woman who actually wanted him on some level.

I’d been a different Nancy then.

And I check my phone for the fortieth time since I charged it, my eyes on the search for Eric’s answering text after I messaged him and told him I was on my way.

And still nothing.

No returning texts.

Not from him. Or Andrew.

And I can't help but think again about the crossroads I'm heading to.

A choice.

A split in the road.

And in one direction was Eric and the other—Andrew.

I try not to think about Andrew as I drive. But the more I try not to think about Andrew, the more I think about the man I am getting to know on a deeper level.

His body. His smiles. His mouth. His kiss. His hands. His…

But I don’t have time to think about Andrew. I’m a businesswoman. I’ve made a decision and it’s time to stick to it. I’m a professional, for Christ’s sake.

And suddenly, I realize I know exactly which side I want.

The wild side. The Andrew side.

The side that’s always been lurking, just beneath my surface.

The side that’s been calling out to me for years.

And I know what I have to do.

I just don’t know if I have the guts to do it.

But I’ll find out.

But right now, here in this moment, there is only one thing I can feel.

Nerves.

My stomach twists, and suddenly I need one of Sophia's dealing with bullshit kits. I pull open the door to The Alchemist, that familiar smell of ale, firewood and mahogany hitting my nose all at once.

I take a deep breath, walking forward, my steps slow.

I glance over the Sunday late morning crowd—lively and a little tipsy.

And I notice my favorite bear of a man, Kev, serving drinks behind the bar.

The sight is almost enough to make me cry—tear up at all that I may be close to abandoning.

I sidle up to the bar. “Hey, Kev.”

“Hey, Nance,” he nods, only glancing up briefly from the drink he’s mixing. He slides a drink to a patron before getting back to work on polishing another glass with a rag, humming softly to himself.

“Where’s Eric?” I ask.

“Honey,” he says, his voice pitching low and rumbling, “I don’t know.”

My heart jolts at the sound of his voice.

“He’s probably in the back,” Kev says with a soothing smile. “He’s not a bad guy.”

I try to look disappointed. “I’ve been worried about him.”

I take a deep breath, trying not to let my intense relief show. But I’m not ready to see Eric yet. I need to talk to Kev first.

“What’s going on?” I ask him.

He looks up from the shot glass he’s polishing. “Just work. You know.”

“You’re working too hard.”

He shrugs. “It's not hard to…when you've got such a great boss.” He winks, and the guilt grows inside my belly. I exhale hard.

I step back from the bar.