More Than Lies (More Than #1)(92)

I did. I said that, but doesn’t she understand why?

“Tara, listen to me.”

“No, I’m done, Shawn. Done! Until you want a real relationship—if you want one that’s out in the open where our friends know, our parents know—then you can hang this up. I’m not going to be used for a good time. You can find plenty of actual whores for that.”

She storms past me.

What just happened?

I’ll fix this. We’ll be in Georgia this time tomorrow, and she’ll be back in my bed. I guaran-fucking-tee it.

Women!





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN





TARALYNN





I went home as some as I left the bar after leaving Shawn in the storage room. I then packed and left again. This time I went to my parents’ house in Tupelo.

It was my last resort, that’s why. I couldn’t stay at Shawn’s. He would have come home and talked his way back into my bed. He’s gifted that way. I couldn’t go to Pam and Bill’s. What would I have said? Hey, I’m in love with your son, and I’ve been sleeping with him. He doesn’t want a real relationship with me though, only sex, so I ended it and can’t face him like a big girl now. Yeah . . . no.

I should have gone to a hotel. A smart person would have thought of that. But not me, because I’m an idiot, apparently.

When I got to my parents’ home, my dad wasn’t there. My mother’s car was in the driveway, but she must have already been asleep because the house was quiet. I showered and crashed, sleeping over twelve hours. That is unheard of coming from me. I’m always awake by seven no matter how many hours of sleep I get a night.

I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and put a bra on under the T-shirt I slept in, and then came down the stairs only to be greeted by my mother’s wrath. She was hosting lunch. In attendance was her best friend, Judy Reed. The nasty woman matches my mother in every way, from believing her shit doesn’t stink to their idea that if a wife is employed then it must mean their family is poor.

After my mother got over the shock of me being there, she reluctantly introduced me to her other two lady friends, one of which was Preston’s mother. Great. After the introductions, she took me out of earshot and made it clear that loungewear was not appropriate attire for the middle of the day on a Thursday afternoon. She followed that up by asking me if my father knew I “defiled my body with a disgusting tattoo.” She noticed the one on my hip. The sleeve of my T-shirt covered the rose so she didn’t see that one.

I should probably not mention the next one I’m thinking about having Shawn ink on me. Something tells me it wouldn’t go over well with her.

That all took place yesterday, less than twenty-four hours ago.

Last night was even worse. My parents threw a dinner party, and wouldn’t you know it, Preston showed up with his parents. Talk about an awkward dinner. Being the one with zero in common with anyone at the table—minus blood—was uncomfortable. I usually have my brother to distract me and talk to at these things. Not anymore.

I did learn, though, that Preston is now a junior lawyer at my dad’s law firm. He also has aspirations of becoming a partner within a few years.

Yippee ki-yay for him.

When I tried to excuse myself with the excuse of needing to pack because I’d be leaving for Georgia this morning, my mother plastered on the biggest fake smile I’ve ever seen. Then she announced that she thought it would be the greatest idea if Preston took the day off work and came with me, so that he and I would have a better chance to get to know one another.

I looked to my dad thinking he might intervene, because what father wants a man to go away with his unmarried daughter for the weekend? He said nothing. I don’t even think he heard a word of the conversation during the whole dinner. It was like he was off in la-la-land.

Preston made it known that he’d love to come with me, and by the time they left the party, it was set in stone that he was going. I never breathed a word. I didn’t agree to this. I didn’t want this, yet here I am. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of his Mercedes-Benz. I guess he got rid of the douchey Corvette.

We are five minutes away from Pam and Bill’s second home in Georgia. I’m silently flipping my own shit, in fear that Shawn is going to flip his shit when I walk in with Preston. Shawn hasn’t called or sent me a text since I left Mac’s the other night. For all I know, he’s moved on and doesn’t give a rat’s behind about what we did or didn’t have. It was sex, but why couldn’t it have been more? I’m such a girl.

“Take the next right.” I close my e-reader and shove it down in my purse.

“No worries, the GPS will get us there.” He points toward the center dashboard of his car. His voice annoys me so in lieu of starting a conversation, I lean my back against the back of the seat and close my eyes. I read the whole six hours of the drive and now I wouldn’t mind taking a nap.

I feel the car come to stop so I open my eyes. We are here.

Finally.

Grabbing my purse, I exit the car, and then grab my large tote bag from his trunk when Preston pops the lock.

There are at least ten vehicles here. Shawn and Mason are friends with a lot of the locals from the town. When we come here, the house is always full of people, a lot like it is back home on the weekends.