Page 15 of Tell Me Lies

Reaching my hand as close to the ground as I can, I drop theGoodnight, Goodnight ConstructionSitebook onto the rug and continue to admire her. Her adorable, chubby lips are squished together from her hand resting on her cheek. And her cheeks have a rosy color to them as her chest rises and falls. I’ve never really thought about having kids, but right now, holding this precious angel in my arms, I can see what all the fuss is about.

After a few more minutes, I slowly push myself to stand and head toward her bed. Gently, I set her down and pull her fuzzy cow blanket over her tiny body. I put an extra pillow next to her so that she won’t roll out of the bed, and then I turn on her fan.

Sitting back down in the chair, I do something I haven’t done since I took this job. I open up my author account on Instagram to see if I have any messages. But before I have the chance, I see the post at the top of my feed from one of my best author friends—at least she was before I shut her out years ago—and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

“She did it,” I whisper, tears of pride welling in my eyes as I look at Winter Collins’s post that her newest series is gettingtraditionally published by Tangent Publishers. One of the largest publishing houses in the country. “She really did it.”

The tears of pride quickly turn to tears of pain when I realize that the closest friend I had in the industry got published and didn’t share the news with me. And without thinking twice, I swipe out of Instagram and call her.

Standing up, I grab the monitor and head into the hallway.

“Hey, stranger,” Winter’s sweet Southern voice drawls. “Long time no talk.”

“Well, hello to you.” I pause. “Mrs.Freaking Trade-Published Author!Why didn’t you call me? I had to read about it on social media like every other Tom, Dick, and Harry. We’re officially fighting, and next time I see you, I’m going to kick your scrawny ass.” I swallow back the lump in my throat because I know how hard Winter worked to get to this point in her career. “But also … I’m so damn proud of you. This is incredible. This is huge.”

“Thank you,” she says, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable. Winter is truly one of the humblest human beings I’ve ever known. “I just … I guess I didn’t want to rub it in. I know you’ve been going through a lot. It just didn’t seem right to call and blab about myself. That’s all.”

Of course that’s why. It’s Winter. Debatably the nicest person on the planet. But I hate myself for growing so distant from the people in my life who matter that they don’t even feel like they can tell me when their dreams come true.

“By all means, rub it in. Please!” I insist. “I always want you to tell me things! I’m sorry that I’ve sucked as a friend for the past three years.” I sigh. “I really am going to try to be better. I’m working on it, I swear.”

“Mace, you went through something extremely traumatic, and you lost your dad, all in one day. And then the man who you were going to spend forever with took the coward’s way out andleft. You have every reason to be a shit friend right now.” She stops. “I’m the shit friend for not checking in with you more. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to be too pushy, but really, I should have been reminding you I’m here.”

Winter and I were close enough that when my life was turned upside down, she was one of the only people—besides family—I talked to about it. Losing my dad was hell, but losing him in the way that I did? Indescribable.

“I did go through some shit,” I say, agreeing with her. “But that was well over three years ago now. It’s time for me to figure out how to put myself back together.” I laugh sadly. “Nobody likes a Debbie Downer.”

“Are you writing anything right now? Or just taking time for yourself?” Winter asks, keeping any judgment from her tone, which isn’t hard for her to do because it’s her.

“I’ve been trying to write a story for eight months, but it just won’t click, you know? Even with my last book, I barely mustered up eighty thousand words to publish it. And when I did, I knew it wasn’t great. But I just wanted to give my readers something. Something to remind them I’m still here.” I shrug even though I’m all alone and she can’t see me through the phone.

“I took a temp job as a nanny for a three-year-old girl. I needed a change of scenery, I suppose.” I attempt to laugh, but it sounds pathetic. “How can I be a romance writer if there isn’t an ounce of romance in my life?”

“Mace, you write beautiful stories. I know you’ll find your way back.”

My throat feels raw now. I have no idea why I’m spilling this to Winter, especially on a day that should be about her, but for whatever reason, I can’t stop. “When I used to write, I’d feel everything so deeply. Each press of the button, each word, each page … it meant so much to me. Now, I feel … nothing.

“And I have felt nothing since that day. Even the day Gavin left me, I was lying in bed when he packed his stuff. I swear the room was black and white, not an ounce of color, and I felt so empty. But as I watched him leave, I didn’t cry. Or yell. I didn’t say anything at all. Because I couldn’t feel it.” My head hangs. “If I write romance, it’ll be a lie. I don’t believe in fairy tales anymore, Winter. And that makes me a fraud.”

“That is not true!” Her voice is filled with thick emotion. “Maci, I promise, you’re going to be okay. I lost my dad years ago, and I still carry that pain with me every day. But I swear, it does become tolerable. I guess we learn to live with it.” She sighs sadly.

“And you know what Kye went through with his father. It took a lot out of him. And it took him a long time to feel normal. And even now, some days are hard for him.”

At the mention of her husband, Kye, my heart aches. Because like me, he lost his father too.

“One day, you will feel better. Maybe never exactly how you did before that day, but it’ll be better than this.”

“Thanks.” I sniffle. “Goddamn it. I’m so sorry. This is one of the most exciting days of your life, and here I am, being a little bitch baby.” I huff out a breath and stand up taller. “This is just the beginning for you, Winter Collins. I know it.”

“And it’s just the beginning for you too,” she throws back, damn near knocking me on my ass. “The best is yet to come, I promise.”

My mom and sister miss my dad terribly, and even they have tried to talk some sense into me. They’ve told me I should go to therapy or try medication to bring me out of this dark hole. I haven’t listened to them.

But right now, I have a chance to figure out my shit. To get back to the sunshiny person I used to be instead of this constant dark cloud.

And when I glance in the room where Amelia sleeps, I’m reminded that for six weeks, her dad is trusting me to take care of her when he’s not around. And for her, I’m going to be the best version of myself that I can muster up.

And it’s not lost on me that this week … I’ve felt better than I have in years. And I know it’s from being here, around her.