The model of domestic bliss. An example of what I worked so hard to give my clients but had never tasted for myself. In some ways, I think that made me numb to all the deceit that would come next.”
Thinking of Reagan tore into Libby’s congested chest and squeezed her heart. “The problem with lying is that it is never finished. One untruth requires three more to keep it hidden. Then there’s nine more to cover those. You get the idea. When the world found out I was single, I should have owned it. I should have stood atop my tall platform and uncaged the truth.”
Sitting up as she coughed, Libby’s heart raced. Her muscles twitched as she tore free from her delusions. “We’ve all been sold on the same garbage. As children we’re told fairy tales about an attractive body in shiny armor coming to rescue us from whatever crappy cards we were dealt.”
The thought of Reagan’s face poking out of a gleaming metal helmet made her laugh even as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“But there’s a reason fairy tales end at True Love’s Kiss.
Because love is messy, and relationships are hard and confusing. And that’s before we add in our baggage and traumas and skewed perspectives. There is no perfect person for you. We are all mismatched in some way, and the best we can do is find someone whose broken edges align with ours.
And even then, that initial flame needs to be tended or it will burn out. There are no fairy tales that teach us how to recognize that we’ve grown apart. That Prince or Princess Charming swept us o our feet, but now that the lusty haze
has cleared, they’re a directionless narcissist with bad credit.”
Libby took as deep a cleansing breath as she could and pulled herself back from her tangent. “I digress. There are more lies to confess. When confronted with the chance to own my broken engagement, I lied. I wanted to be a proud, single woman working hard to build my family business. No, not a business. A way of life. My cherished legacy. But I was so afraid of what people would think. Of how they would reject my advice if I hadn’t managed to find love for myself.
Of the shame I would bring the Cassanova name. Of how I would disappoint my grandmother. My idol. So instead of being a human being and admitting that relationships fail despite our best e orts, I hired someone to pretend to love me.”
Dropping back onto the bed, Libby opened her eyes. “I didn’t pick a woman to be salacious. I picked a woman because I thought I was protecting myself from the possibility of real attraction. Guess what? When we pretend long enough, it’s impossible to remember what’s an act and what’s real. The irony? I fell for her anyway.”
Libby stopped the recording with trembling fingers. At least there was one less person to lie to now, and she tried to focus on the positive as the distorted veil lifted from her eyes. Her fear of failure had tricked her into building a house on a crumbling foundation. There was no way to salvage it other than knocking it all down and starting over. All she could do was hope there would be enough left to rebuild with when it was over.
Before the terrifying unknown could crush the life out of her, Libby decided on tackling one thing at a time. As she considered her options, a knock at the door startled her.
Since it was impossible to get into her building without a key
card or being let up, she guessed it was her grandmother.
The only person who could bully her way past the doorman.
Guessing Taylor had been forced to tell her she was sick, Libby climbed out of bed, covered herself in a flu y pink robe, and inched down the stairs.
“Who is it?” she asked as she approached.
“Reagan.”
HOLDING A BROWN PAPER BAG FULL OF SUPPLIES, REAGAN SHIFTED HER
weight from foot to foot until Libby finally opened the door.
With swollen red eyes, a pu y nose, and an unusually pale complexion, Libby looked worse than expected.
“Hey,” Libby croaked, her voice raspy and weak. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes were wide with surprise.
Reagan held up the bag in her hands. “I got a call from your grandmother. Apparently she’s at some kind of ladies who lunch thing in Tampa and won’t be back until tonight at the earliest. She assumed I knew you were sick and taking care of you, sooooo she provided some . . . suggestions.” She smiled. “Did you let El Sereno get you?” She shook her head.
“You shouldn’t tempt the fates by going out at night with your head uncovered.”
Libby closed her eyes for a few seconds while her cheeks flushed with color. “That’s so embarrassing. I’m really sorry.
I don’t know how she—” she interrupted herself. “She forced it out of Taylor.”
“I guess that’s where she got my number too,” Reagan said with a lopsided smile.
“That’s really sweet of you to come, and I’m so sorry you drove all the way here in rush hour tra c. I don’t want to get you sick. You really don’t have to stay. I’ll report to Mima that you were a stellar nurse,” she promised as she fidgeted
with her messy hair before attempting to smooth it into submission.