One Tiny Lie A Novel

papers . . . having something tying him up at night. This is what he was doing.
    All I want to do right now is run to Ashton, to touch him, to be close to him, to thank him. To let him know how much he means to me.
    “Come on.” Connor takes my hand, dismissing the entire topic so quickly. As if it’s trivial. “Come and meet my parents.”
    I no longer simply dread meeting Connor’s parents; it has now become the absolute last thing I want to do on this planet. But I’m trapped. Swallowing the sudden urge to vomit, I let him lead me through the crowd as I put on the best fake smile that I can produce and pray that any sneers can be chalked up to nerves about meeting them.
    He stops in front of an older couple. “Mom, Dad. This”—he gently places a hand on the small of my back—“is Livie.”
    “Hello, Livie. I’m Jocelyn,” Connor’s mom says with a broad smile. I note that Connor has her eyes and her hair color. She doesn’t have an accent, but I remember him saying she was American. Her eyes quickly appraise me as she offers her hand. It’s a harmless and not unpleasant appraisal, and yet I fight the urge to recoil all the same.
    Next to her is Connor’s father. “Hello, Livie.” He sounds just like Connor, and my father, except his accent is thicker. If I weren’t ready to bolt out of here like a girl on fire, I’d probably fawn over it. “I’m Connor Senior. We’re both so pleased to meet the young woman who finally captured our son’s heart.”
    Captured our son’s heart? What happened to “slow and easy”? I glance to see Connor’s face flushing.
    “Sorry to embarrass you,” Connor’s dad says, dropping a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. “But it’s true.”
    Connor’s thumb slides playfully against my back as anxiety pools in my stomach and creeps into my chest, stifling my ability to breathe. This is bad, bad, bad. This feels all wrong .
    I put on my best smile. “Your son is a kind man. You must be proud.”
    “Oh. I can’t begin to describe how proud we are of him.” Jocelyn beams as she gazes in his direction. “He has a bright future. Even brighter now, with you in it.”
    Are they insane? I’ve known him for only two months! My eyes drop down to take in the perfect cardigan and pearl necklace beneath Jocelyn’s perfect peacoat and I have a flash of manicured lawns and lapdogs—all these elements that my subconscious has assembled as the ideal life I could share with the main star currently standing next to me. The only star, I believed up until now. Who doesn’t hide scars with tattoos, who doesn’t wear a symbol of his dark childhood on his wrist, who isn’t buried in secrets, including how and when his own mother died. Who also wouldn’t spend a week looking for a piece of paper that may not exist because he wanted me to have it, not because he wanted me to know he spent a week looking for it.
    Right here, standing before me, is the life that I thought my parents wanted for me. The only life I ever saw myself leading. I’ve found it.
    And I need to get the hell away from it. “I’m so sorry, but I have my volunteer shift at the hospital. I need to leave now if I want to catch the train.”
    “Oh, of course, dear. Connor was telling us that you’re planning on med school, right?” Jocelyn nods her head approvingly. “A brilliant student.” Yes, Cs all the way!
    “Okay, guys,” Connor says. “You’ve embarrassed me enough.” Leaning in to kiss my cheek, he whispers, “Thanks for coming to see me race today, Livie. You’re the best.”
    With what must be a strained smile and a nod, I turn and get away as quickly as I can without running. My eyes roam the crowd, looking for my beautiful broken star.
    But he’s gone.

    “I thought you guys would be excited about Halloween. You know . . . getting dressed up and all.” I give Derek’s cowboy vest a small tug. He responds with a shrug, pushing a Hot Wheel back and forth with languid movements, his head hanging. I’m afraid to ask how he’s feeling.
    “They won’t let us eat much candy,” Eric sulks, sitting cross-legged and fiddling with his pirate eye patch. “And Nurse Gale told me they’d take my sword away if I chased after one more person.”
    “Hmm. That’s probably a good rule.”
    “What are you dressing up as, Livie?”
    “A witch.” No way in hell am I explaining to a five-year-old why a schoolgirl could be deemed an appropriate Halloween costume. I can only