Chapter 1 #2
At that, he pressed his lips together, horizontal lines scored across his high forehead, and slowly, reluctantly, left the window.
She stared after him for a moment.
Single. Thomas was single. Charming in his own way. Exceedingly telegenic, she’d guess.
And she’d seen his upcoming schedule. As soon as the spreadsheet came out every month, she immediately compared her shifts to his. Out of morbid curiosity, of course, and also to confirm once again just how thoroughly she was fucked.
Their schedules were always in sync. Always.
No matter how fervently she wished they weren’t, or how late she entered her schedule requests.
Somehow, even if she waited until the very last hour, his requests still came in after hers, and whatever he put would mean the two of them were on the desk at the same time.
It was inevitable. Unavoidable. Like choosing the slowest checkout lane at the grocery store.
This month was no different. They were working together almost every shift. And for some bizarre reason, he’d even taken vacation next week, the same week as her.
Maybe it was all a huge coincidence. Or maybe he knew her work ethic would allow him to function as he preferred on the desk—i.e., at the pace of a molasses-coated sloth—and he was gaming the system.
The latter possibility had caused her no small amount of rage over the past few months.
But before then, back when she’d first started at the library, she’d searched for his lean, handsome face in the breakroom and sighed happily when she’d found it.
She’d arrived early at work to talk with him about whatever she was reading that day.
She’d showed him pictures of her nieces and nephews, and he’d smiled down at the images with such gentleness she’d nearly gone liquid.
She didn’t want to remember. It hurt to remember. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.
And at that moment, something in her brain shorted out.
She cleared her throat. When she opened her mouth again, Professional Librarian Voice rang out, loud as her heartbeat and clear as the Caribbean.
“I do have another question, Cowan.” Inexplicably, her mouth had said that. Her voice. “What would you say if I told you I had a new boyfriend?”
As soon as the last word emerged from her mouth, her face twisted into an instinctive wince, her stomach began to roil, and her skin might as well have burst into flame.
Oh, Jesus. What had she done?
She never spoke without thinking. Ever. So why had she done it now? To representatives of a cable television network, of all people? The two of them were in the entertainment industry, for God’s sake. Savvier and way more sophisticated than a woman like her.
They had to know she was lying. But they weren’t saying anything.
If they remained quiet much longer, Callie was going to throw up.
Confronted with such a brazen falsehood, maybe they’d lost the power of speech. Maybe they’d muted the phone or were communicating via carrier pigeon or semaphore flags about how much they hated her. Maybe they were preparing to hang up on her. She didn’t know, and the uncertainty was killing her.
Finally, Irene broke the silence.
“My, my, my. Callie Adesso, total dark horse.” For the first time in Callie’s memory, the other woman sounded highly entertained. “Didn’t you say you broke up with your ex earlier this morning?”
“Yes.” Callie paused. “It was a long time coming.”
“I’ll bet,” Irene said.
“But just to be clear,” Callie rushed to add, “Thomas and I didn’t get involved until after I was free.”
She was already a liar. No need to make herself sound like a cheater too.
The other woman snorted. “You’re telling me you didn’t stray while you were with Andre, but you did find a new guy before lunchtime on the same day you became single? Is that right?”
Lying wasn’t as easy or fun as she’d been led to believe.
“Umm…” Callie bit her lip. “Yes. That’s right.”
A gleeful laugh crackled through the cell’s speaker. “I don’t know whether to check your pants for flames or congratulate you for finally kicking that asshole to the curb.”
At that, Callie’s eyes widened. “You thought Andre was an assh—”
Cowan didn’t let her finish. “I’m sorry, Callie. The timing of your relationships is none of our business. Also, HATV and its employees would never call one of our applicants an asshole. Ever. Not under any circumstances. Please excuse us for a moment.”
They must have muted their conversation again, because she couldn’t hear anything for a few seconds. By the time they returned, she was nibbling on a thumbnail, trying not to scratch her chest.
“Apologies for calling your ex an asshole.” Irene didn’t sound especially sorry, and she didn’t wait for her apology to be accepted. “We have a few more questions.”
“Forgive us,” Cowan said, “but how do we know this man is really your boyfriend?”
The true moment of decision had arrived. If she backed out now, Irene and Cowan wouldn’t belabor the issue. They’d merely hang up and find someone else for the show.
But if she kept lying, she’d actually have to provide evidence of that lie.
She could either continue on the Dark Path of Duplicity, or she could make a sharp right onto the Rosy Roadway to Righteousness. And she had to make the choice now.
“Ummm…” She closed her eyes and grimaced. “After work tonight, I can e-mail you pictures of us together, and you can judge for yourself whether we look romantically involved. Or you can send someone to interview us, like you did with Andre.”
Trundling along the Dark Path of Duplicity it was, then.
And somehow, she was still talking. “All this might seem a bit quick—”
“You think?” Irene said.
“—but Thomas and I have worked together for months now, and there’ve always been, uh, feelings.” Irritation and impatience were feelings, right? “We just didn’t act on them before this. Until Andre and I ended things.”
Shit, shit, shit. How had the scope of this lie not occurred to her? Did she really plan to create fake pictures of them as a loving couple? Or convince Thomas to memorize and parrot a fictional story about their torrid love affair?
“We don’t have time to do another interview before the trip.” After a muffled conversation with Cowan, Irene came back on the line. “Tell us about your new boyfriend, Callie.”
He makes a tortoise seem speedy. Fails to multitask or retain basic information about checkout procedures. Bumps into the microfilm machines and various desks while deep in thought.
No. That wouldn’t do.
Instead of dwelling on her more recent frustrations, Callie conjured up her first impressions of Thomas, back when she’d found him charming. Sought out his company.
This part of the lie would be comparatively easy.
“His name is Thomas McKinney. He’s thirty-five and unfairly handsome.
” Picturing him, every detail of that too-attractive face and long body, was easier than she’d like.
“He has dark, curly hair with a little silver just starting at the temples. Pale skin. Eyes like…” She thought about it.
“In the Caribbean, you know how the water close to shore is turquoise, but if you go out a bit further, it’s ridiculously blue? That’s his eye color.”
Cowan made a weird choking sound. “Ridiculously blue?”
Engrossed in her description of Thomas, Callie barely heard the intern.
“He’s tall. Lean, but really strong. When we had to move our encyclopedia collection, he was able to carry these enormous stacks of books.
” Well, until he’d tripped over a cart and dumped various volumes all over the polished wooden floor.
“Plus, patrons flirt with him all the time, and he doesn’t seem to notice. ”
That obliviousness always made her feel just a tiny better during their shifts together.
“Maybe you could—” Cowan started to say.
“Sometimes he wears dark-rimmed glasses, and they suit him way too well. It’s like he’s a bookish spy or a really sexy professor, which can be very distracting.” She hesitated. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
Irene blew out a loud breath. “Can you tell us something else about him? Something that doesn’t involve how hot he is?”
Oh. She supposed she had kind of rambled about his looks for a bit too long. Probably because she didn’t have much practice with lying.
“He’s very intelligent.” Maybe the smartest man she’d ever met, but she would keep that little tidbit to herself. “He started at the library six months before I was hired, so he’s been here a year. He has a Ph.D. in American history and knows a ton about different time periods.”
“That’s plenty of—”
Callie barely heard Cowan. “When he gets a tricky question on the desk, he’ll do everything he can to answer it as thoroughly and accurately as possible, no matter how long it takes. He’s dogged, he’s curious, and he truly wants to help people.”
All true. Cowan and Irene simply didn’t need to know how all that endless patience and curiosity impacted Callie.
How by the time she’d started working at the library, the researchers and interpreters with more interesting and complex questions had already learned to go to him for answers when he was on the desk.
How she got stuck with all the basic factual and circulation questions, and her own knowledge of history and the library remained untapped.
How she had to deal singlehandedly with any lines at the desk, because he would spend almost his entire shift on one or two people and fail to offer assistance when she was in the weeds.
How she was continually forced to calm patrons who were frustrated at the wait for help.
How she had to hurry through any interesting questions she did receive, because of that line and those pissed-off people in it.
Cowan and Irene didn’t need to know that working with Thomas all the time had stopped Callie from forming closer ties with patrons and other colleagues and left her feeling increasingly isolated.
So instead, she tried to remember more of the good stuff. The reasons she used to rush to work half an hour early so she and Thomas could hang out before her shift started.
“He’s kind. Easy to talk to.” Somehow, amidst her burgeoning anger and worry, she’d forgotten that. “Not particularly familiar with pop culture but interested in everything. And he has this wry sense of humor with absolutely no meanness to it. No mockery whatsoever.”
At first, she’d chatted with him all the time, and he’d always listen intently to whatever she wanted to say.
Then he’d ask her questions or offer up his own well-considered opinions with that quiet confidence she so envied, and they’d talk for hours in the parking lot after work.
Those chats hadn’t been mere water cooler talks or gossip sessions, but the sorts of conversations she’d always hoped to have with her boyf—
Nope. Not ambling down that particular mental road.
It didn’t matter how good a conversationalist he was. As her aggravation with him had grown, she’d stopped talking to him unless work required it. Because having all his careful attention, all his decency and kindness, directed her way somehow felt even worse than if he’d been a dick.
If he’d been a dick, her anger wouldn’t feel so petty.
If he’d been a dick, she might have mustered the courage to complain, either to him or to a supervisor.
But he was a good man. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, she didn’t want to get him in trouble, and she didn’t want to borrow conflict or seem high-maintenance at a place where she’d only worked for six months.
Just the thought of confronting him made her itch.
So she was stuck. Frustrated and lonely and sad, but silent.
Irene interrupted her thoughts. “I think we’re good here.”
“What…” Callie swallowed, too nervous to hope. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve convinced me. You’re into this dude, no question about it. We can make this work.”
Wow. She was an excellent liar. Who knew?
“Have him fill out the online application tonight. We’ll do the interview and take some pictures when you arrive at the first island.
” Cowan sounded distracted, and Callie could hear a tapping sound, as if he were taking notes.
“I’ll update the tickets and reservations and send you all the confirmation messages as soon as I can. ”
Her eyes were swimming again, and she wiped them against the sleeve of her blouse.
She’d done it. Oh, God, she’d done it.
Next week, she’d be digging her toes into white sand and splashing in the surf, allowing the water to erode all her worries as she luxuriated in the best trip of her life.
That is, if she could convince Thomas to abandon his previous vacation plans, lie on cable television, and spend an entire week in close proximity with a coworker who hadn’t talked to him for several months.
Oh, God, she hadn’t done it. Not really. Not yet.
She didn’t need to blink back happy tears anymore. Her eyes were as dry and gritty as that imaginary white sand. “Got it. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“One last thing.” Cowan was silent for a moment.
“I’m choosing to believe that you and Thomas McKinney are a couple, because I like you.
And, to be frank, because cancelling your trip would mess up the entire Island Match schedule for the rest of the season.
But there will be cameras on you almost constantly for days. If you’re lying…”
When he paused again, she squeezed her eyes shut, shame suffusing her cheeks with heat.
Finally, he sighed. “If you’re lying, Callie, do it well.”