Twelve Truths and a Lie Read online

  Twelve Truths and a Lie

  Christina Lee

  Contents

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Other Titles by Christina Lee

  1. Aurora

  2. Cameron

  3. Aurora

  4. Cameron

  5. Aurora

  6. Aurora

  7. Cameron

  8. Aurora

  9. Cameron

  10. Cameron

  11. Aurora

  12. Cameron

  13. Aurora

  14. Cameron

  15. Aurora

  16. Cameron

  17. Aurora

  18. Cameron

  19. Aurora

  20. Aurora

  21. Cameron

  22. Aurora

  23. Cameron

  24. Aurora

  25. Aurora

  26. Cameron

  27. Cameron

  28. Aurora

  29. Cameron

  30. Aurora

  31. Cameron

  32. Aurora

  33. Aurora

  34. Cameron

  35. Cameron

  36. Aurora

  THANK YOU for reading TWELVE TRUTHS AND A LIE!

  About the Author

  Where to Find Christina Lee

  Acknowledgments

  EXCERPT from ALL OF YOU

  Copyright © 2016 by Christina Lee. All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without prior written permission by the author(s), except where permitted by law.

  * * *

  TWELVE TRUTHS AND A LIE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.

  * * *

  Published by Christina Lee

  * * *

  Cover design by Natasha Snow

  * * *

  Editing and proofing provided Prema and Judy’s Proofreading

  BLURB

  * * *

  Aurora Jones has it all—a job she loves as a child and family therapist, supportive friends, and a decent place to live. What she doesn’t have is much luck when it comes to dating men. And not only are her choices terrible, she also hasn’t been boyfriend free since she was a teenager. So she places herself on a sabbatical of sorts. No dating for twelve months.

  * * *

  Cameron Miller has had a crappy year. His girlfriend fell for his best friend and to ease the pain, he drowns his troubles in more booze and women than he can count. When his buddies finally slap some sense into him and urge him to focus on his new position as a special education teacher in an urban school district, he decides to get his act together.

  * * *

  Away from the prying eyes of their mutual friends, Cameron and Aurora agree to hang out once a week in their newly dubbed Chastity Club. Number of members? Two. It’s a chance to find solace, companionship, and something neither anticipated – a burgeoning attraction. But when Cameron invites Aurora to be his fake date at the reunion his ex-girlfriend and best friend will be attending, their passion ignites. What happens in Chastity Club stays in Chastity Club, right? Until they discover that a year of self-truths might actually lead them to true love.

  Other Titles by Christina Lee

  Adult Contemporary Romance

  Two of Hearts

  Three Sacred Words

  * * *

  Between Breaths Series (New Adult Romance)

  All of You

  Before You Break

  Whisper to Me

  Promise Me This

  There You Stand (m/m)

  * * *

  Roadmap to Your Heart Series (Male/Male Romance)

  There You Stand

  The Darkest Flame

  The Deepest Blue

  The Sweetest Goodbye, coming soon

  * * *

  Free Fall Series (Male/Male New Adult Romance co-written with Nyrae Dawn)

  Touch the Sky

  Chase the Sun

  * * *

  Anthologies

  When We Met (with Tiffany King, AL Jackson, & Molly McAdams)

  To the real life crew that inspired this book.

  Thanks for the memories.

  1

  Aurora

  The man working the door just had to be wearing a kilt. Goodness. Look at him.

  “Those are some powerful legs,” I said into my drink. “Wouldn’t even have to unzip.”

  Nicole laughed, her arm resting against the empty chair beside her. “You’re all talk and no action.”

  “You have no faith,” I said, staring at the bouncer’s combat boots and imagining a night of debauchery. “I could totally pull off a one-nighter if I really wanted to.”

  According to my friends, all my relationships had been unfulfilling, so why not just have sex? Instead, I’d become overly acquainted with my hand and a vibrator they had dubbed Richard.

  “Besides, you’d probably emit that magic juju,” Sydney said, after downing the rest of her beer. “The guy would tell you some sob story to hook you in.”

  “You’d wake up in another relationship with some loser, and Richard would be thrown in a drawer,” Nicole said, fluttering her hand. “Bam, another year of your life wasted on somebody who doesn’t deserve you.”

  We were at Flanagan’s, our favorite Irish bar in the city, the place we met the first Friday of every month, no exceptions, so that we didn’t get too lost in our everyday lives. It had been easy to keep in touch during college when we were all on the same campus, but since beginning our careers, it was harder to check in with each other on a regular basis.

  “What makes you think kilt guy wouldn’t be good for me?” I said wiggling my eyebrows. “We know nothing about him yet.”

  I was reaching. I was also nine months into the “no boyfriends” agreement I’d made last year with these same friends at a Memorial Day barbeque, which also meant I was into my ninth month of abstinence.

  Because I do not have sex without being in a relationship. Never have. Which was a really dumb rule, I had begun to realize. Poor Richard. He was overworked and underpaid. But my friends also knew me too well.

  “You can’t just have sex. Not you,” Sydney remarked. “Though that might solve your constant tongue wagging.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m beginning to change my mind. Me and Mr. Kilt can just go in the bathroom and come out satisfied.”

  Both of my friends burst into hysterics. They knew I would never do such a thing, but I was so hard up, I just might consider giving it a shot. I mean, why not? We didn’t even have to know each other’s names. Isn’t that how it worked?

  Something familiar twisted in my gut. My mother had never known my dad’s name, most likely due to a string of alcohol-infused nights. And after she passed away, I was pretty much alone, outside of my older half-brother and one aunt, with no clue what my paternal genes might reveal, given the chance.

  It was true that I had never been without a boyfriend since my freshman year of high school. I hadn’t known for a number of years what it was like to come home to an empty house, with zero messages waiting on my phone. To shop only to satisfy my own needs. It was solitary, yet exhilarating in a lot of ways.

  “You’re a fixer,” Nicole said, reaching into her bag to retrieve her cell phone. “That’s why we had
to do an intervention.”

  The three of us had been best friends since freshman year in college. They sometimes knew me better than I knew myself. Last year, we had to rescue Sydney from working herself half to death when she opened her own dance studio. It got to the point where she was sleeping in her office and inhaling paint fumes because she needed to get the entrance color just right.

  The year before that we had to talk sense into Nicole, who felt she needed to compete with her sister to have a whole football team of kids to make her mother happy. Her husband, Michael, had thanked us profusely.

  And now it is my turn for some harsh reality, I guess.

  “Here’s a scenario of what happens when you’re left to your own devices,” Sydney said, alerting the server that she wanted another drink. “You have an invisible sign on your head that reads, I’m a social worker, tell me all your problems. On the first date you feel sorry for the dude, think you might be able to fix him, and suddenly you’re trapped in a terrible relationship with somebody who has major issues.”

  “You were getting good at extracting yourself. But then you’d find the next guy to take his place in record time,” Nicole said as I watched kilt guy move in and out of the bar entrance. “Take the last boyfriend, Phil?”

  “You had sex with the raging alcoholic on the third date,” Sydney said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “And that was it, you sold him your soul.”

  “So what you’re saying is, I can’t have sex without wanting to marry the guy?” I replied, throwing up my hands. “That’s not exactly true. I just…”

  “Next thing we knew, you were bailing Phil out after his second DUI, driving him around everywhere.” Sydney shook her head in disapproval. “Trying to get him into treatment. You felt obligated to make it work.”

  “You like having somebody around,” Nicole said, texting someone on her phone, more than likely her hubby. He was always late. “I totally get it. Somebody to make plans with, worry about. Somebody to repair.”

  I nodded because she was mostly right. I didn’t know what happened to me. It used to be me and my mom and my older brother, until he moved away. Then Mom started drinking heavily again. I hated that feeling of helplessness. I didn’t even recognize that I was dating a string of guys with one dependency or another.

  These past nine months had been eye opening, even refreshing, if not isolating. It was the first time since high school that I’d been truly alone. And I actually got some things done that I wanted to do—for me. I painted my bedroom a deep jade color and got some new prints for the walls. I made weekly trips to the Whole Foods store.

  For God’s sake, I was in the mental health profession, I should know better. I should recognize all the signs. But somehow when you’re in the thick of it, you cannot for the life of you see the forest through the trees. It all looks and feels achingly familiar, and it forces you to settle into your comfort zone. Even if that comfort zone isn’t really all that comfortable.

  Just then, Nicole’s husband, Michael, walked in with a couple of friends. They always hired a sitter on these nights. Nicole had two-year-old twins, and they were working on a third, though they were having trouble conceiving.

  Michael usually brought random co-workers and his best friend, Madhav, whose nickname was Maddie. He was an engineer, and I always suspected that Sydney had somewhat of a crush on Maddie, but she would never admit it.

  This time there was a friend with Maddie that I hadn’t seen in a few months.

  “Where has that guy been?” I said, watching him walk toward our table with his tall frame and linebacker shoulders. The deep blue shirt he wore made his firm, bronzed arms stand out.

  “Who, Cameron?” Sydney asked. His background might’ve been a mix of black and white, and it was difficult not to notice those thick lashes and brows only tempered by his full lips and angular cheekbones.

  “Don’t get any bright ideas,” Nicole hissed. “Michael said he’s been having quite a year, on a long bender, and screwing anybody who’s willing.”

  My gut roiled as warning signs flared. I’d be staying far away from that guy.

  “Although,” Sydney said, waggling her eyebrows. “Might be just the solution if he’s only moving through a line of them.”

  “Ew,” I said. “See, that’s the visual I find most gross.”

  “Knowing you,” Nicole whispered, after kissing Michael when he leaned over her chair. “He’d fall hard and be reformed.”

  I rolled my eyes. She knew as well as I did that meeting somebody did not make your problems magically disappear. It only magnified them. At least eventually.

  Maddie waved to everybody and then turned to Cameron. “You remember my roommate, Cameron?”

  “Roommate?” Sydney said. “Since when?”

  “Past six months,” Maddie said and Cameron nodded.

  Good Lord, that black-blue hair that fell in ringlets across his forehead. Long enough to run my fingers through. A girl could at least fantasize, right?

  Those deep-set amber eyes soaked me in like egg on bread. Was it suddenly boiling hot in here?

  “You’re a teacher, right?” I asked noticing how scratchy my throat had become.

  “Started the school year at elementary level on the east side,” he replied, sliding in his seat across from me. “I’m an Intervention Specialist.”

  “I’m familiar with the municipal school system,” I said. “I work for Belleview. Child and Family Therapist. Independently Licensed Social Worker.”

  Sydney nudged my knee beneath the table and smirked. “Eyes on your own paper.”

  2

  Cameron

  “You haven’t been out in a while,” Maddie had said, driving to the bar.

  It was Friday night, and I was relieved to be done with the work week. Believe it or not, middle school kids could be whiny, exhausting brats, maybe more so than kindergarteners.

  “I could use a beer,” I replied. And to finally kick back with some friends.

  I’d had one hell of a year. My teaching job had been deleted, which happened frequently in urban schools because of funding and staff turnover. Suburban positions had long waiting lists. I moved in with Maddie, because I didn’t even know if I’d make rent. Finally, over the summer, I got a call about a special education job in a school across town and accepted the position immediately, even though it was only a one-year contract.

  “You all cool?” Maddie had asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “For sure,” I had said, almost defeated. “I don’t need any more trouble.”

  When I’d caught my girlfriend cheating with one of my oldest friends last year, I went off the deep end. Dessa was the first person I had ever loved, and Mike had survived high school with me. I should’ve seen it coming, I suppose, the way they flirted with each other those last few weeks.

  By the time I’d lost my job, I should’ve been done licking my wounds over my two friends hooking up.

  Instead, I had gone out and done whatever the hell I wanted. Found any girl who wanted a one-night stand. Made sure not to tell a single one of them that I’d call them again. I was a mess and my friends knew it.

  Maddie and Michael had done a mediation of sorts with me after I’d had a wake-up call three months ago. I had almost become a father. I should’ve expected as much when the condom broke and the girl had called me at my job. That was not fun.

  I was ready though. I would’ve stood by her and helped raise that child. Turned out, it was a false alarm. My friends had put me on a ban, and I had accepted the challenge. No sex for six months. Get myself straight.

  “Glad to have you back,” Maddie had said as he pulled in the lot.

  I saw the gorgeous redhead as soon as I entered the bar. She was Nicole’s friend and had a boyfriend if I wasn’t mistaken. Not that it mattered.

  “You remember my friend Aurora?” Nicole had said.

  I nodded, attempting not to look into her bright blue eyes. Damn, she was pretty.

&n
bsp; I took a seat across the large, round table from her. I ordered a beer and listened to the conversation. Michael was talking about his work on a big case as a prosecutor. He and Nicole had been together for a few years, and they had one of the strongest marriages I’d ever witnessed amongst our age group.

  This set of friends had been meeting at this bar once a month for the past few years, and they were a cool group to hang around. I knew Michael from a men’s basketball league I belonged to.

  “How long have you been a social worker?” I asked Aurora.

  “About five years,” she said. “I have a couple of clients at your school.”

  That was no surprise. Practically all of my kids had social workers.

  “How long have you been a teacher?”

  “About the same.” Nobody really understood the day in and day out with those kids, but she probably did.

  I was a teacher in what was considered a self-contained classroom, which meant that my kids were diagnosed with emotional or behavioral disorders and were on Individualized Education Plans. This year, I had an active group, a few of them hardcore. Some rebelled on a daily basis, others responded to a firm touch or fear of suspension. Because depending on their home life, a firm touch could mean an abusive parent or an imposing authority figure. Suspension could mean endless days at home with possible repercussions.

  “I’m new to Thomas Jefferson this school year,” I told Aurora. I didn’t want to instill fear in my students. I wanted to teach them respect and genuine empathy. So it had taken me a few weeks to gain their trust. “It’s been a tough couple of months.”