CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE- Olivia
It’s the most bizarre and surreal thing to be looking at the guy I’ve known as Cash and suddenly see Nash appear. The mussed hair is still all Cash. The casual clothes are still all Cash. Some of the mannerisms are still all Cash. But the speech, the sudden switch into intelligent, successful, soon-to-be attorney mode, is all Nash. And it’s staggering.
But not nearly as staggering as his inadvertent admission.
I speak quietly, trying to remain calm. “So what you’re saying is that you were going to involve me in something that could potentially get me killed without even telling me? Without giving me so much as a head’s up?” I stand to my feet. I can’t help it. Anger is pulsing through me like spray from a fire-hose, and I can’t remain sitting. If I do, I might explode. “Without giving me a choice?”
At least Cash has the decency to look embarrassed. Ashamed. Contrite. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like, but I promise you, I would never put you in danger. I just wanted you to do the numbers, look at the tax code. Give me your opinion. I was going to tell you they were for another business I was considering buying. I knew I could trust you not to say anything if I was right and there were serious violations. If I’d taken it to a CPA, they might’ve felt compelled to try to get the name of the business and turn them in. Something crazy like that.”
Even though that makes it sound a lot less horrific, I’m still having trouble thinking past my anger. Deep down, though, I know it has more to do with being lied to than anything else. Strangely, the rest all sounds like stuff I could deal with, albeit with some liquor, a sedative and some time to think, but still, I could manage.
But this, this lying… I’ve always hated liars and being lied to more than anything else. To me, it’s always been the only truly unforgivable sin.
Can Cash be the first exception? Or has this forever wounded whatever is between us?
“Olivia, please understand that I would never, never—”
I put up my hand to stop him. “Stop. Please don’t say anything else. I think I’ve heard enough for one day. Maybe for the rest of my life. I won’t know until I’ve had some time to think.”
He looks defeated. Not really worried, like he’s afraid I might tell someone, just defeated. Like he took the chance and it backfired. I smother the little pang of guilt for trampling his attempts at coming clean. I can’t afford to feel tenderness toward him right now. I need to be practical and rational. Cool. Emotionless.
I pretend to look through my purse. I can’t meet his eyes. I’ll crumble. I know I will. “Thanks for getting my car fixed and bringing it by. I’ll pay you back.” I start edging toward the door. Running will only make me look like a coward, even though that’s what I’d really like to do—run. Far and fast.
Cash says nothing. I don’t look up until I’m facing the door and he’s to my left. I pause, thinking I should probably say something else, but not having the first idea what that is.
I open the door and walk out. I don’t look back, but I can feel Cash’s eyes follow me until I disappear around the corner.
********
I’ve never been the type to skip school a lot. A class or even a day here and there maybe, but nothing substantial. Until now.
Tuesday morning doesn’t bring the peace I thought it would. In fact, between getting very little sleep—again—and the magnitude of my troubling thoughts, I feel almost physically ill. My stomach literally turns over when I see the flowers that Nash left me.
“Cash,” I say out loud, correcting myself for the hundredth time.
As I did most of yesterday and far into the night, I relive the humiliation of what happened with Cash when I thought he was Nash. The things I said to him, the way I acted, the things we did. Or nearly did. The way I tortured myself over who had crept into my bedroom that night.
I rock between anger and mortification then back to anger.
How could he do this to me? How could he do this to everyone?
I go to the kitchen to make coffee. As I pass my phone, I see the screen light up. I had put it on vibrate and left it out here last night because I didn’t want to be tempted to answer it. The name displayed is Cash.
I wonder if he’ll ever use Nash’s phone when he calls me again?
Bitterness courses through me. It’s so thick I can almost taste it. Ignoring the call just like I have the half dozen others from him, I continue on to the kitchen.
As I sip my coffee in the living room, I try to think of other things, but they all lead back to the most important issue in my life. Cash.