‘I know I do,’ I reply. Because I wasn’t backing up some other chick into a wall in a public bathroom.
‘And so do I. So we both care about Bee a lot.’
‘I guess so.’
He folds his hands together on the table, leaning in. ‘You seem determined to dislike me.’ The fact that it’s the exact same phrasing that Bee used isn’t lost on me.
‘I think I have good reason to be wary of you.’
He sighs, like I’m being unreasonable. ‘Is this still about what you think you saw at Rannalla?’
‘I know what I saw.’
‘Do you, though?’
He’s right. I’m no longer so sure. The image of his back and her hands has blurred in my mind. Was the man’s suit green or black? Am I sure that he was as tall as William? Do I remember his hair colour? It’s like when you’re worried you’ve left the straightener on at home, and you try to remember if you did or not, but your brain almost invents the image of you doing it, an amalgamation of all the times you actually did, but not a real memory.
And if you’re told enough times by enough people that you didn’t see something, can you even trust your brain anymore?
William can see the doubt on my face. He smiles, and that smug fucking look on his face really isn’t making me less wary, just giving me a different reason. ‘Okay, so if we have that misunderstanding resolved, there’s no issue between us anymore. Because it would suck to put Bee in the middle of a tug of war. I wouldn’t want her to lose anyone or be forced to make a shitty choice. So we’re good, yeah?’
But when he says it, it sounds like a threat. Because the choice would be him. And the loss would be me. There’s only one thing to say: ‘Yeah. We’re good.’
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Is there a more worrying set of texts to receive?
Fucking hell, Arthur. Who died?
No one! Except perhaps your regard for me.
Bold of you to assume it existed in the first place.
Can you deny the depth of your admiration?
You’re getting off topic.
That’s not a denial.
FOCUS, Arthur.
Sorry. Right. When you next see Bianca,
you’re going to be expected to take this
weekend off work for two nights away at my
uncle’s house in Blairgowrie.
Of course I am. Because handing off half my week’s shifts during the quiet part of the year is exactly what I need to be doing.
How did this happen?
I need to know who to blame.
I mentioned going down to William, who
invited himself, then Bee, who then insisted
