My tongue suddenly feels thick in my mouth as I try to swallow around it and not look guilty.

Because I am guilty.

I am lying to him.

I am deceiving him.

And at this point I’m too wrapped up in this lie to come clean. Hell, I came up with it on the fly, while in a bar and while flirting with one very hot bartender.

It wasn’t said as a means to deceive. My own thought contradicts itself when it comes to the definition of the word lie.

Have I had ample time to correct said lie? Yes.

But does Gunner’s answer apply to me? Sure, but I didn’t anticipate this—dates and laughter and looking forward to the time I’m with him while being bummed when I’m not. But is his deal-breaker only related to relationships and not friends who enjoy benefits too? Which is what we are, aren’t we? Temporary. Even though it—everything—is so good with him.

Your justification sucks, Chase.

And yet I cling to it, because it’s so much more appealing than the rock and a hard place I find myself in, considering I hate deception as well.

Simply put, I need to figure out a way to tell him. To assure him that I hadn’t known we’d be more than one night when I told him the lie . . .

Luckily the next few questions are easy and more lighthearted. Gunner has me laughing as we navigate through questions about how the toilet paper should be out on the roll (he agreed with me that it should go over the top), what the best time of day is (he preferred sunset and I preferred sunrise), favorite color (I said orange and he said green), and how long do you wait until you refill your gas tank (he was when the light comes on while I said the minute it hits a quarter of a tank).

“And lastly,” Mimi says, “while you use the last ten minutes of your time to finish your paintings, tell your date the one thing you fear the most they might learn about you.”

“Christ,” a man mutters behind me, clearly fed up with a date that now suddenly feels like a therapy session.

Gunner hears him and stifles a laugh as our gazes meet. “My turn?” he asks and I nod as concern etches the lines of his face. “I fear that you might learn I’m not as good of a person as you think I am.”

“Gunner, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I mean, look how concerned you are for poor women everywhere who cook naked. And—”

He bursts out laughing, and I’m so glad I can lighten the moment with humor, because what he just said is asinine and yet, I know he probably truly believes what he said.