Escaping Reality

times.
    “How old were you?”
    “Fifteen. Alex adopted me.”
    “Alex lost his kids and you lost your parents.”
    “Yes. Exactly.”
    “And Alex? You said you lost him, too?”
    “He had a heart attack while I was chasing pyramids a couple of years
    back.”
    He cuts his gaze and reaches for his coffee, and I sense his internal
    emotional battle and do not know the right thing to say or do. I just sit
    there until his gaze lifts and collides with mine.
    And I see the truth in his eyes. “You don’t talk about this.”
    “No.”
    “But you did to me.”
    “Yes. Now ask me why.”
    “Why?”
    “Someone has to go first.”
    It is what he said to me on the plane. It is his offering of trust, and I
    know I was right.
    There is something happening between us, something I may never
    experience again, and ironically that means lying. Now, this moment, is my
    chance to tell him Amy Bensen’s story. To make sure he doesn’t dig around
    to find out on his own.
    I open my mouth to relay my fake life per my Amy Bensen file, and
    snap it shut with a stunning realization. My story is Liam’s story. Her father
    ran out on her when she was a kid and her mother died of cancer. How can
    this be? It’s impossible. I am not telling this lie to Liam. I can’t. I won’t.
    “I need to go to the ladies’ room,” I say, and I do not wait for his
    reply. I scoot out of the booth and take my purse with me, but Liam is out
    the other side and standing in front of me, and I see the worry in his eyes.
    It’s like he senses my instinct to bolt. He thinks I’m running away, and I
    am—but not from him. From the me I don’t even recognize as me.
    “Amy—”
    I lean into him and press to my toes, brushing my lips over his. “I still
    want to lick your tattoo. Remember?”
    But he doesn’t laugh. He leans back and gives me an intense look.
    “Hurry back and let’s get out of here.”
    “Yes. I’d like that.”
    His hands slowly ease from my waist where they have settled,
    reluctantly it seems, and I like that he does not want to let me go. And I do
    not want him to either, but I have to find a way to make this work.
    I rush away from Liam, and the waitress directs me to the bathroom,
    a fancy three-stall room with mirrors on the door, and I rush inside the
    farthest one and lock myself inside. All too soon, I am back where I was two
    nights ago, leaning on a bathroom stall and fretting. But this time Liam has
    found me and I do not want to lose him or put him in danger. I tell myself
    lies protect him and I should embrace them and him while he is in Denver.
    But deep down I feel this man inside me and I do not want to limit our
    possibilities. He knows I’m running and if I really want to be with him, I
    have to ensure he does not dig into my background. If I don’t give him
    something, he might go look on his own.
    The air shifts in the bathroom and I push off the wall. I didn’t hear
    the door open but I hadn’t heard it at the museum either. My hand goes to
    my throat and I do not dare breathe. I listen and I do not hear anything.
    Wait. Do I? Time seems to stand still and I can’t seem to make myself move.
    What if I go outside the stall and there is another note? What if I have to
    run?
    The cell phone in my purse starts to ring and I jerk at the sound. It’s
    Liam. Of course, it’s Liam. He is the only one who has my number. How long
    have I been standing here? I shake myself and open the stall, steeling
    myself for whatever I find outside. Eager to just know what waits on me, I
    rush forward and stop dead in my tracks as I bring the sinks into view.
    “Meg? What are you doing here?”
    She whirls around from where she stands at the sink primping her
    long blond hair to lie on her shoulders, a contrast to her short red dress.
    “Oh my gosh. Amy! What are you doing here?”
    “I…” My phone starts ringing again.
    “Oh good.” She lights up. “You got your phone working. I can’t
    believe we’re both here.”
    “I…yes. Very small world.”
    “That’s what I love about this little area of Cherry Creek. You can live,
    eat, shop, and play here and get to know everyone like it’s a small town.
    Only we have Chanel and Gucci in this small town. We’re the high-society
    chicks. Well, not that I can afford that kind of thing, but maybe I’ll find me a
    sugar daddy.”
    I cringe considering Liam and his billionaire status and think that
    while her comment is playful, he must deal with real-life