Chapter 9 The Weight of Lies
The Weight of Lies
Jules
I lay in bed, unable to sleep. Dinner had been excellent, surprisingly.
My friend groups over the years had typically been small but leaned toward female.
And sure, I’d had relationships with guys over the years, but none of them had ever been my friend first. In hindsight, that might be telling as well.
The evening with Noah, had been… unexpected. I was still attracted to the man. I would have to be dead not to be. But as much as I’d like to find out what the man’s lips felt like on my own, I’d also enjoyed just getting to know him.
That was rare for me—with men or women. I just felt like I was missing the ability to get to know people easily.
It took quite a bit of time before I was comfortable with someone, which was why I’d disappeared into novels since I was a kid.
Fictional friends were far easier. Noah, however, was proving to be an anomaly, as were the women of Highland Falls.
Here I felt freer to be myself than I ever had.
And Noah? He was easy to talk to and made me feel comfortable…
Well, that had been true until he found my books.
Shit. Shit. Shitty shit shit. Turning to see the man standing with my baby—the first book I’d ever written—had been mind-blowing as my world threatened to turn on its head.
My stomach seized up; my hands stopped working as I dropped my damn phone.
I’d thought I’d faint until he’d luckily clocked my panicked state and pulled me over to the couch.
I’d briefly debated staying quiet and denying that anything was going on, but after an evening where I felt like we were building a foundation of friendship, that didn’t sit right.
I wasn’t a liar. I knew that sounded like a load of crap considering most people didn’t know I was Jules Jenkins, but I’d never been confronted with anyone talking about my books to me in person.
So it was a lie of omission I’d been okay with until earlier.
I’d known I needed to tell my family for a while, but since the publication of my first book, I’d created an ever-changing set of benchmarks and swore I’d spill the beans once I reached them.
At first I’d thought I’d tell them when I earned out on my book.
Once that happened, I’d thought I would when I had a certain number of reviews.
Then was the benchmark of when cracked the top sellers on upon a release.
After meeting that, I’d reasoned with myself that I would when my income from writing was higher than my actual income.
Now I was approaching that threshold, so I needed another goal or I needed to bite the bullet and find the guts to tell my parents and Lou.
Would they be fine with the news? Likely. But the idea that they wouldn’t be…
Earlier in the day, I’d felt so conflicted not speaking up in the group-text thread about the book club that when presented with Noah in front of me, not even knowing the quandary he was unwittingly throwing me into, I was just done.
I hadn’t had it in me to continue the subterfuge.
I don’t know that he’d understood why I had been so freaked out.
Hell, I don’t know if anyone would get it, and I hadn’t really had time to explain.
It was a combination of impostor syndrome—no matter the sales, I still felt like I didn’t know what I was doing—and the way people treated romance books as well as their authors.
Would I still be me once they knew about my side job that was on the way to eclipsing my real one?
My admission had just left my mouth when Noah’s phone rang.
He’d glanced at it, seen that it was Ivy, and immediately answered.
She’d been at his house because Addie had left her current prized stuffed animal at his place and sworn she couldn’t sleep without it.
He’d apologized to me and taken off to meet her and locate the important stuffie.
Fast-forward to me in bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning the life choices that had landed me there.
“Mrow?” O’Malley was making biscuits on my stomach as he stared into my eyes by the light of the moon.
His judgment was strong, damn cat. I swore he could somehow read my mind.
The misogynists of the late 1600s thought cat ownership was a sign that a woman was a witch, but I think they missed the real power in that relationship.
Surely the cats were the ones that knew all.
And fuck them for persecuting women anyway.
“I know, I know,” I said, rubbing a hand over my face.
It was not the time to spiral on women’s place in humanity.
Not now. There were two people in this world who knew my secret identity—Noah and Kylie.
I had a frightening premonition involving Kylie meeting Noah.
She’d have a lot of things to say; mainly I could envision her telling me to “hit that.” Yeah, subtlety was not her strong suit.
Mental note—pray they never met when Kylie came to visit.
My phone vibrating on my bedside table pulled me out of my spiral. I picked it up, nerves flooded my belly when I saw Noah’s name.
Noah: Crisis averted. We found Addie’s elephant, and Ivy has headed home. Do you want me to come over to finish our conversation?
I glanced at the time. He’d left thirty minutes ago—that was a hell of a search for a stuffie.
Me: No, O’Malley and I have already made it to bed. We can talk more later. Glad you found the elephant; it must have been well-hidden.
I reread my text because I liked to second-guess myself like that. Did that sound like I was giving him grief for not getting back to me sooner? Or was that a breezy text that indicated I was good with whatever. Ahhhhh, why did my mind read into everything? So frustrating.
A reply pulled me out of my pain-in-the-ass brain.
Noah: Ellie, that’s the elephant, “decided” to take a bath in the washing machine.
Or so Addie told us when we called Jake to have him ask her where it was since we couldn’t find it.
At any rate, I do want to talk more, Jules.
I get the vibe that what you shared with me was a big deal, and I don’t take that lightly. Breakfast tomorrow at the Sanctuary?
My stomach did another roller coaster ride. Breakfast? To talk more about it? That sounded mildly terrifying. I dug deep and laid down some more truth.
Me: In the spirit of continuing to share, I half want to say hell no and go curl up in a ball somewhere. However, I’m working on being open here. Just an FYI—the only other person in the world who knows I’m a writer is my friend Kylie.
The dots telling me that Noah was typing tormented me until his text finally came through.
Noah: I’m honored to be part of that selective group and promise no one will learn about this from me. You’re my accountant now, right? We can call this client confidentiality. That’s a thing, right? So, breakfast? I’ll make sure you don’t need to take the fetal position.
I snorted at the “client confidentiality” comment before taking a few deep breaths, thinking that would help my skittering heart rate. No luck. Maybe I needed to see a doctor.
I shook my head. One step at a time.
Me: Breakfast works. Nine sound good?
Noah: It’s a date. I’ll see you there.
Date? Sure, sleep was going to be easy to come after that text. I put my phone down and settled on my side, O’Malley curled up behind my knees. “Everything will look better in the morning, won’t it, boy?”
“Mrow?” He rubbed his head on my legs, bringing me comfort from the familiarity.
“I’ve got to believe it will,” I whispered.
Saturday morning dawned, and I hurried down Main Street toward the Sanctuary. It was a bit cool with bits of fog lifting off gardening beds on either side of me, the sun shining through them. Gorgeous.
I had been correct—sleep hadn’t come easily, and I’d tossed and turned until the early-morning hours.
All that was to say I’d overslept because I’d finally found the shut-eye that eluded me until far too late in the night, or early in the morning to be more precise.
Luckily it was only a few blocks to hit the Sanctuary, and the weather was gorgeous—blue skies, light breeze, warm sun.
It all worked together to help me wake up as I rushed to meet Noah.
Stepping into the coffee shop, I was hit with the delicious aroma of the magic elixir I knew would fix my exhausted state. Add the amazing smell of baked goods, and I wondered if I could just move in.
“Hey, Jules!”
I looked over to the counter in the front of what would have been the altar in the former life of this building when it was a church.
Allyson offered me a wave before waiting on a customer.
Her belly was like a small beachball under her fitted shirt.
I looked around for Maeve, but there was no sign of the more outspoken sister.
Noah, however, waved at me from the leather armchairs by the window I’d sat in just a week ago.
I pointed at the counter, indicating I was going to order, to which he nodded and raised a book he had open in his lap in response.
“Hey, Allyson,” I said as I reached the counter.
She tapped the steamed-milk pitcher on the counter, then proceeded to pour the milk in the coffee before passing it off to the guy in front of me.
“Medium latte,” she said, then turned my way, gesturing to the stools on my side of the counter.
“Want to order and grab a seat? We can visit while I make drinks.”
“Um.” I bit my lip and looked over to Noah, who was reading with an armchair ready for me.
Allyson followed my gaze, then looked back to me. “Ahh, meeting someone?”
I felt the heat warm my neck and cheeks as I nodded my head, mumbling out a reply. “Yeah, it’s just, we had dinner last night and…”
Allyson interrupted, her eyes twinkling. “Dinner? You are holding out on us, Jules. You’re lucky that Maeve and/or Maggie isn’t here right now.”