The Imposter Marin Montgomery (rom com books to read TXT) 📖

“Actually . . .” Miles looks forlorn. “It’s about you, Sibby.”

“Exactly,” Sibley pleads. “So there’s no reason to upset my mother.”

Miles angrily stomps over to the counter. Neither woman mentions he shouldn’t drink out of the tap. Deborah assumes he should know better by now, so she lets him.

He slams down a glass. “I want to know what happened so—”

“So you can puff up your chest and put your police hat on?” Sibley grumbles.

“So I can try and help,” he finishes. “I want to help you.”

“After all this time, you want to help?” Sibley sounds dubious.

Without waiting for an invitation to sit, Miles slinks into a chair, seemingly aware that both women are eerily fixated on his choice of seating. Apparently supposing he chose right, since neither resists, he settles on the patterned chair cover.

Glancing at her daughter’s flushed face, Deborah says, “What’s going on?”

“I pulled Sibby over this morning on her way to your house. I didn’t run her plates then, but I did this afternoon. It seems our girl doesn’t have a valid license or insurance for that Corolla out there.”

Before Sibley can hide her expression, Deborah watches her jaw drop in horror. Then she regains her composure.

Even though she’s not a fan of Miles, Deborah’s grateful he came to both of them, although it might have been out of spite or to gloat.

A whimper escapes Sibley’s lips. Fists curled into balls, she takes a menacing step toward Miles.

Openmouthed, Deborah and Miles wait for Sibley to take a swing at him or start hollering.

She does neither.

Instead, she crumples into the closest chair.

CHAPTER 25

Sibley

“Fletch,” I shakily demand. “What do you want?”

My question confuses him. “What do I want?”

“You can’t ever leave well enough alone. You clearly wanted to prove a point.”

Defensively, he crosses his arms. “I thought Deborah should know.”

“Oh, really?” I grit my teeth. “Like you care.”

“She deserves to know why you really came home.”

“And what business is it of yours?” I snort.

“When you drive into my town”—he thumps his chest—“I make it my business.”

“Look at you, sounding like a future chief of police.” I roll my eyes. “This is nothing more than a misunderstanding.”

“No! I want to know why the fuck—” He quickly shuts his eyes. “Sorry, ma’am, for the curse word. I’m at my wit’s end. Sibby.” He speaks softly. “I want to know what you’re doing home, traveling like a nomad in that hunk of shit outside, creeping into town. You abandoned us all, and now you just show up after all these years, acting like you have no qualms about making us worry about you.”

“I didn’t creep,” I haughtily point out. “I sped through town, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Why are you on the lam?”

“You chased me off before, and you want to do it again.” My eyes burn with tears. “Damn you, Miles Fletcher.”

“You know that isn’t what happened,” he says coldly. “You never could accept responsibility for your actions.”

“What did you want me to do that night, Fletch?” I snap. “Tell your mother she couldn’t leave our house? Beg her to stay and talk to me? I didn’t tell the police to barricade our property, and I didn’t tell Cindy to drive straight into a telephone pole.”

My mother shoots me a deadly glare. “The past has nothing to do with this,” she cuts in. “Stop avoiding the question.”

“I had a car accident.”

“That’s serious.” My mother goes still. “Did you go to the hospital?” She strides over to me. “You could have a concussion; I would know.”

I put my hands up to wave her away. “I was checked out by a doctor.”

“Was anyone else with you?” Fletch asks. “What about the other vehicle?”

“Luckily, there were no other passengers, and I didn’t hurt anyone but myself. The other victims were concrete and a fire hydrant.” Shaking my head, I murmur, “I was upset. My husband, Holden, and me”—I’m doubtful Fletch will know his name—“had a blowout fight, and then I had some work distractions that caused me to be inattentive.”

Fletch raises a brow. “So that’s why that dump outside isn’t registered to you?”

“Yes.” I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. “Since my car was totaled, I bought the Toyota and headed here.” I sigh. “It was so recent, and I haven’t bothered to switch over the title and insurance.”

Neither of them says a word. My mother stares at the floor, Fletch at the wall, as I dart furtive glances around the room.

My mother breaks the silence. “But I don’t understand why you would drive cross country on a suspended license.”

“How does an attorney just disregard the law?” Miles slaps a hand to his forehead. “Oh, wait, you always think you’re above the law; that’s how.”

“Don’t start with this ‘public servant versus civic duty’ bullshit,” I snap.

My mother softens her tone. “Your husband was okay with you doing this?”

Shooting Fletch a warning look before he spouts off about Jonathan being a domineering husband, I shrug. “He understood my reasons.”

“Well, what do we do?” Deborah’s hands reach for her throat, nervously twisting the gold chain.

Clearing his throat, Fletch directs his answer at Deborah because he knows I’m well versed in the law. “I’m not trying to be an accomplice to her bad behavior. Her license is suspended for ninety days.”

“Are you going to have my car towed?”

“Maybe.” He retorts, “You ran from your problems before, and things haven’t changed much, have they, Sibby? Running from the choices you make seems to be your MO.”

“What’re you going to do?” my mother asks him nervously.

“That depends on Sib.”

“What are my options, Fletch?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Fletch says sternly. “Let’s go take a drive.”

Keeping a stiff upper lip, I rise out of my chair. “Only if it’s to the nearest bar.”

The two of us drive in strained silence to town. It’s as if we have to have a drink before we can continue our conversation.

Mickey’s gets our business this time.

Swiping his