Love is Liz (LiL, #2)

2 - Love is Deceiving

Deliberate deception is not a mistake. It's calculating and cold. Especially when aimed at the one you profess to love. And if one can't be trusted in love, one can't be trusted in anything. 

-The Kiss of Deception, Mary E. Pearson

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You can do this!

My half-hearted attempt at a pep talk unsurprisingly hadn't made me feel any better as I'd waited with my hand clasping the door handle, poised to face the truth that could break me further with little effort. At the entrance of my silent house, filled with only my unsteady breathing, I heard the car door open and close just feet away. A pause in silence made by a catchy tune whistled into the afternoon air.

It was a carefree sound, joyous. One that didn't fit our upcoming conversation and one that managed to tick me off the slightest bit more. How dare he be so happy when I was on the edge of insanity and had battled a major panic attack immediately after waking from sleep.

Irrational, since he knew only that I needed to see him, my text message simple and straight to the point.

Footsteps, wood creaking under his weight as he climbed the stairs to the porch. My heartbeat accelerated as I held my breath. The doorbell went off.

I counted to ten in an attempt to keep my lungs from bursting.

My friends had demanded to accompany me as back-up, but I'd declined, insisting that this was something I had to face on my own. Standing here now with my tummy in knots, I regretted turning them down.

My hand pressed down on the handle, the door swung open and I was struck in my tracks as I absorbed Sam's delight. Lips stretched into a grin, eyes dancing with barely contained exhilaration, hands in his pants' pockets, shoulders up to his ears. His warmth all but melted once it clashed with my cold emptiness. He had no clue he was walking into an ambush.

Upon seeing my expression his smile turned into a frown. "Hey." He leaned down to kiss me, but I blocked his attempt and turned my cheek.

I opened the door wider, turned my back on him and marched into the kitchen. I swallowed. The ability to speak had left me, my throat was one, big lump of imaginary pressure.

Footsteps. He followed. "Liz? Is everything alright?"

With shaking hands, I reached for the glass of water on the counter to wet my throat in an attempt to untangle the knot pressing against my vocal chords.

"Liz, what's going on?"

I set the glass down. Cleared my throat. "Someone texted me today." My voice sounded scratchy.

Hesitancy. "And?"

"It was an unknown number." A pause. A gulp. "I received a photo." I turned to face him, my back pressing against the edge of the countertop. "Would you like to tell me something, Sam?"

With bated breath, I waited for the answer that could make or break me and our relationship. The clock in the kitchen provided me with a sense of time. Every second he stared at me was followed by a tick. As if in slow motion I could see his guard coming up like a brick wall between us. "I don't know what you mean."

A sigh escaped my lungs, my chest begging me to take the weight off it with little success. I felt the tears first, the anger second. So, he really wanted me to say it. Desperately, I clung to the hope that this was all a misunderstanding, that it really had been an ex-girlfriend he'd been kissing before he'd even known me. The knot in my throat grew until it hurt to so much as breathe let alone speak. "Have you always been honest to me?" The pressure against my vocal chords felt like an invisible hand was choking me.