“Huh?” Will says with a frown. “What d’you mean, ‘Like, what?’”
“What’s been happening with you at work? Maybe I can help?”
Will laughs like I’ve invented stand-up comedy. “Just shit with my employees. You’re not gonna know anything about that.”
I step back, shocked. “But… I run a business too. You know I do. We’ve been messaging about it.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. You do, you run a bar.” He rubs his lips together like he’s holding back a smile. “They’re just different businesses, you know?”
“Well, yeah, industry-wise. But I do have employees. And customers, and all that stuff.”
Will catches me by the waist. “You’re so fucking cute.” He drops a kiss on my lips.
It’s nice, a lovely kiss, but I pull away. “Will, tell me about work. If we’re really going to do this?—”
I gesture in the inches of space separating our chests “—We should be able to talk about our jobs. Iwantto talk about our jobs.”
Will rolls his bloodshot eyes. “But my work is so fuckin’ boring. I don’t want to be boring. I want to havefun with you.” He reaches around me and squeezes my ass, dragging me up against him so I can feel the length of the fun he’s referring to. He stumbles, tumbling both of us back against the wall. I pull myself upright, rubbing my shoulder where I bashed it against the wood panelling.
Will snickers. “Fuck, my bad, Cee.”
Oh shit. How wasted is he? I knew he’d had a few drinks, but he must have pre-gamed as well. Whatever he’s downed before finding me at the bar is starting to kick in.
“Will? You wanna sit down?” I take his hand and steer him to the couch.
“No,” he whines. “I wanna fuck.”
“We can do that later.” I help him down onto the navy lounge suite. “I think you need to chill out for a bit.”
“Jenny used to say that, too. You’re just like her.”
What the everlasting fuck?“I’m nothing like Jenny.”
“Sure you are,” he says in the same whiny voice. “Won’t fuck me,always wants to talk about work and shit. I’m out there busting my ass all day, and then I come home, and she’s bitching about how I leave my coffee mug on the table. You’re all like that.”
“All?”
“Women.” He sticks out his lower lip. “I thought you were different. You’re so nice, and I thought you liked me.”
“Idolike you!”
Wait… Do I?I said the words, but tonight is twisting everything around. The old edges of my understanding of Will aren’t meeting the new frame he’s built for me.
“I’ll get you some water.” I stand and move to the kitchenette, finding a glass and filling it.
“You, Jenny, Grace…” he draws our names out, accepting the water and spilling it over his wrist as he lifts it to his mouth.
Thisis pathetic.
Then the third name hits me. Grace.Ada said something about a Grace.
The knot in my chest tightens as realisation settles over me like a steel wool cape. It slides into my bloodstream, metallic and cold, overtaking every thought and fantasy.Ada was right about Will.
The sweet lens of nostalgia crumbles away, the way good crystal shatters, leaving only jagged shards behind.
Will Sharpe doesn’t like me. Will Sharpe hasneverliked me. In fact, I’m suddenly certain that he dislikes all women. He might be good at covering it up with his pretty boy smile and his sparkling eyes, but behind all the flowers and flirty messages is disrespect, coated in a sticky layer of entitlement.
Whatever Ada has dug up about Grace and Thompson Farms, Will, Thrasher, Xavier, God knows who else. They’re all up to their necks in it.
