“Won’t they?” The man’s smile was thin. “We’ll see.”
He followed Philip’s gaze toward Vivienne. The chilly disdain in his eyes struck her like an arrow. Without meaning to, she inched back a step. The asphalt sizzled beneath her bare feet.
“All this time,” said the man. “And here you’ve been. The world is a funny place.”
Vivienne didn’t have time to parse out what he possibly could have meant. Without a word of goodbye to his son, he whirled on his heel and headed for his car, parked at the far side of the lot. The moment he’d gone, Philip turned his focus on the disheveled bunch. His brow was sheened in sweat, his cheeks red from the heat. In spite of this, he was smiling broadly.
“Spectacularwork,” he said to Thomas. “I knew you’d track her down.”
Thomas’s hand tightened around Vivienne’s. “I didn’t do this for you.”
“Of course not, of course not,” said Philip, flapping his hand dismissively. “You did it for Vivienne. Everything we do is for Vivienne. She’s a treasure, isn’t she?”
Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Vivienne silenced him with a squeeze of her hand.
Leave it, she signed.
“Vivienne, my dear,” boomed Philip. “You have no idea what you’ve put your mother through. She’s been sick with worry ever since the party. It’s such a relief to see you intact.”
The way he said it—intact—like she was an investment, turned her stomach. She stared at him without a word. What could she sign to him that he’d understand? What could she say to him that he’d care to interpret? She wasn’t a person to him. She was an accessory.
A weapon.
“Well,” he said, tugging the back door wide. “No reason to stand around sweating in this heat. Let’s get you home. I’ve already phoned the family physician. He’ll be by this afternoon to check on you.”
Indecision warred within her. The loudest parts of her screamed at her to tell him off—to assure him that she’d never go anywhere with him again. Another, smaller, voice told her that this was where she belonged.Thiswas what she deserved.
Not kindness. Not pity. But a cage. She may not have been directly responsible for Mikhail’s death, but hers was the voice that killed him. That was all she did. She killed and she killed.
She withdrew her hand from Thomas’s.
“Vivienne.” A hard edge crept into his voice. “You don’t have to do this. You have options.”
“Don’t make a spectacle, Walsh,” called Philip. “You’ll only embarrass yourself.”
Thomas ignored him. “Do you want to go with him?”
T-o-m-m-y, she signed.Don’t.
“Answer my question,” said Thomas vehemently. “Do you want to go with him?”
I could have killed you.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Please don’t do this. Don’t make it harder than it is.
His gaze shuttered. His jaw locked. She knew he was biting back the thousand cruel things he wanted to say. She hoped, for her sake, he wouldn’t say them. She may have deserved it, but she didn’t think she could bear it. Nearby stood his friends, clustered together in the shade of an elm. A silent audience, bearing witness to her final humiliation.
You’ve been so kind to me, she signed.
His expression contorted. “Kind?”
Let me do this, as one last kindness to you.
“Kind?”he repeated, spitting it out like a profanity.
She turned quickly, before doubt could creep in. Gesturing for the dogs, she headed across the scalding lot, her toes burning. She was halfway to the car before Thomas found his voice.
