One Tiny Lie A Novel

what, but by the whispers I’ve caught, it involves a bottle of champagne, the silver stage hoop from Penny’s that Storm used to use in her “act,” and an embarrassing video montage of the happy couple.
    Trent and Kacey are perfect together.
    I hope I have that one day, too.
    I turn back toward the setting sun. And I breathe. In and out, slowly. I breathe and I relish this beautiful moment, this wonderful day, pushing all my worries and fears away. I find that it’s not hard to do. The sound of waves and Mia’s laughter as Ben chases her around serve as an anchor to keep me grounded.
    “How is college, Livie?”
    The voice surprises me and sends prickles down my spine. Turning, I find those coffee-colored eyes staring out at the ocean next to me. “Hi, Cain. It’s good.” Family or not, I’m still not a hundred percent comfortable around my sister’s old boss. He’s never done anything to warrant my unease; in fact, he’s one of the most respectable men I’ve ever met in my life. But he’s an enigma of sorts. He has that timeless look to him, both youthful and wise beyond his years. When Kacey first met him, she thought he had to be in his early thirties, but a slip of his tongue one night told us he’d just hit twenty-nine. That means he opened his first adult club in his early twenties. No one knows where he got the money. No one knows anything about his family, his background. All we know is that he makes a lucrative living off the sex trade. But according to Kacey and Storm, all he seems to want is to help his employees get on their feet. He has never crossed the line.
    Although most of the dancers wouldn’t mind if he did. I’m not surprised. Cain is not only good-looking; he exudes masculine confidence—his well-cut suits, perfectly styled dark hair, and intimidating, reserved demeanor only add to his appeal. And underneath all that? Well, let’s just say that the few times he’s come over to enjoy the beach with us, I’ve noticed Dan and Trent stand a little closer to their women. Kacey says that Cain has a fighter’s body. All I know is that, between the striking face, the hard muscles, and a multitude of interesting tattoos, I’ve been caught staring more than once.
    “I’m glad. You know your sister is so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
    My gut tightens. Thanks for the reminder . . . I sense his eyes on my face now and I blush. Without looking, I know he’s studying me. That’s Cain. You feel as though he can look right through you.
    “We all are, Livie. You’ve grown into one remarkable woman.” He takes a sip of his drink—likely cognac, seeing as that’s his alcohol of choice—and adds, “If you need any help, you know that you can call me, right? I gave you my number.”
    Now I do turn to look at him, to see his genuine smile. “I know, Cain. Thank you,” I say politely. He said the same thing a month ago, at my farewell party. I was busy crying my eyes out alongside a hormonal Storm. I’ll never take him up on it but I appreciate it, all the same.
    “When do you head back?”
    “Tomorrow afternoon,” I say with a sigh. Not necessarily a happy sigh. The last time I left Miami, I was sad, but I had a ball of nervous excitement for college to help me get on the plane. Now, I don’t have the same excitement.
    At least, not for the classes part of college.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Falling
    “Your dad throws this party every year?” I ask as Reagan pays for the cab with her credit card and we hop out. Either Princeton rowing coaches get paid very well or Reagan’s family has money through other means, based on the two-story house we pulled up to. It’s a mix of stone and brick, with steep roofs and a matching turret. English-style gardens break up a perfectly groomed lawn and the driveway forms a large loop at the front door. A dozen or so cars are already parked around the circle, including Connor’s white Audi.
    “Like clockwork. Kind of a ‘welcome-back-slash-we’re-gonna-win-the-big-race-slash-I’m-gonna-work-your-ass-over-the-winter’gathering.” I trail her as we walk around the side of the house to an equally beautiful backyard. About fifty well-dressed people mingle with drinks in hand, accepting appetizers from the servers in tuxes floating around. The crowd is predominantly male, but there are some girls around. Girlfriends, Reagan confirms.
    I instinctively smooth my gray pencil skirt. Reagan described the party as “dressy but