Things Liars Fake (#ThreeLittleLies #3) by Sara Ney Page A

pivoting on my heel at the interruption.
    Elliot. Of course.
    He holds a beer towards Dexter as an offering.
    My date takes it, hesitantly, his demeanor going from flirty and fun to guarded in a matter of nanoseconds.
    My lips clamp shut, pursing with displeasure; not at the interruption, but at the rude way he went about it. Good lord, didn’t his mother teach him any manners? You don’t walk over and insult someone. I glance over at his mother, Aunt Tory, who sits perched daintily on the couch, sipping out of a champagne glass. Coiffed, strikingly made-up to the nines and discernibly high-maintenance, I acknowledge that she doesn’t look like she’s spent Elliot’s childhood years teaching him modesty.
    I also acknowledge that perhaps he doesn’t know any better, and allow him some leeway. After all, the guy probably can’t help himself.
    He was raised this way.
    “Hey Elliot,” I start. “It’s good to see you again.”
    Lie #1 .
    “Right? It’s nice not to have the huge crowd we had at Gracie’s party—now we can actually talk without all the music and annoying dancing,” he schmoozes. The charming smile doesn’t reach his calculating brown eyes.
    “Oh, totally,” I agree. Lie #2 .
    Elliot moves closer, his elbow giving Dexter an almost unperceivable nudge, jostling my date towards the wall. Away from me.
    My green eyes become slits. This guy is certifiable.
    “What are you doing after this?” He wonders aloud, blatantly ignoring his cousin. “It’s a Sunday night but we should still do something.”
    “What a great suggestion; we should.” Just not with you, asshole . “Dexter sweetie, let’s do something after this.”
    The patronizing bastard scoffs. “Come on now, get real. You don’t think I know what’s going on here?”
    My mouth falls open—actually falls open at his audacity—the anger inside me beginning its slow roll up my throat, past my lips. My claws come out. “Wow. Just… wow . You know something pal, you are seriously one shitty—”
    “Cousin!” The twins announce, appearing out of nowhere, their lithe arms going around Elliot’s shoulders. For once, their timing is impeccable.
    Amelia gives her brother a quick peck on the cheek. “Dex, mom wants you to run upstairs and grab that picture of you and Dad from the Vacation from Hell of 2010. You know the one—where Lucy and I are both crying in the background—”
    “—and you and Dad are smiling at the camera—”
    “—and Mom looks like she’s about to lose her mind—” Amelia giggles.
    “—She says it’s in your closet.” Lucy finishes.
    “Daphne, you should definitely go with him,” they say together, grinning their identical grins. Their eyes are wide. Calculating.
    They know exactly what’s going on and suddenly… I adore them. I adore these perfect, weird, sassy human beings.
     

     
    “S o, this is your childhood bedroom, huh? The room you grew up in? I didn’t get a tour when I was here baking cookies with your sisters.”
    “Yup, this was my room for eighteen years. Where all the magic didn’t happen.”
    Yeah, it’s not exactly a babe magnet: shocking blue stripped wallpaper with an orange basketball border. Vintage Sci-Fi poster of 3,000 Leagues Under the Sea. A poster of Doctor Zvago. Academic Decathlon trophies shining on an oak shelf. His High School diploma and medals hanging from blue and red ribbons.
    It’s sparse; clean. Slightly juvenile—but then again, it is the room from his childhood.
    “Give me a minute to find the picture my Mom wanted, okay? Sit tight. I know it’s in here somewhere...” Dexter disappears into the closet, and the sound of shoes, totes and clutter being shifted ensues. “ Shit, there used to be a box in here with …” Clatter. Bang. “ Where the hell is it… ”
    His muffled voice fades in and out of the walk-in closet, where I hear the distinct sound of a box being pulled open as he hunts for this elusive, lost photograph. I wander to the far