Progress.
One evening, Willa had an engagement party. It was held in London, and Bo went as Willa’s chosen maid-of-honour. She met Scarrow finally, who she found pompous and arrogant in the extreme, to the point where she almost thought about calling Berg to ask him just what the fuck he was letting Willa do.
She didn’t call Berg though. Instead, she cornered Willa.
“Are you really happy, Wills?” Bo had asked, point blank, and Willa had blinked, startled, before she gave a shrug.
“I have to be. I can’t keep chasing something which will never be mine. I have to move on, Bo, and I think that Scarrow and I will work well together in the long term.”
Scarrow. Bo’s eyes had narrowed upon him in the distance, holding court with a circle of producers. “He’s just so . . .” she had to stop herself from sayingawful,“. . .difficult.”
Willa let out a small, breathy laugh that didn’t quite ring true. “He’s just stressed,” she’d explained. “The film is behind schedule, and the studio are breathing down his neck. He’s got a lot on his plate at the moment.”
Bo had taken a deep breath, determined to try one last time. “And Berg? He’s not here tonight.”
“I didn’t invite him,” Willa’s words were sharp, “and I don’t want to talk about him, okay?” Her expression had then softened. “Bo, I just need you to support me. You don’t have to fix me. You don’t have to fix anything. You just need to be my friend.”
“I can do that,” Bo had agreed, even if the knot of worry in her chest hadn’t quite been eased.
Later, after Bo had toasted her best friend and wished her the best for a happy future, she sat back down at her table in the expensive silk dress Willa had chosen for the occasion and sipped at her glass of champagne. A man she didn’t know came and sat next to her, flirting and laughing and talking, and she had a nice time, talking and laughing back. He asked her for her number at the end of the night, and Bo was surprised. She hadn’t thought about dating or sex in a long time, at least, not dating or sex that didn’t involve Max, and she stared at him for a moment, wondering if she was ready.
“Thanks,” she eventually said, her voice calm. “But I just got out of a relationship which was important to me, and I’m not ready for anything else just yet.”
It was the first time she’d acknowledged that maybe shehadbeen in a relationship with Max, and that ithadbeen important to her. It was okay not to be okay, Bo realized, and she went home that night more at peace than she’d felt in months.
Progress.
Before Bo knew it, six months had flown by, and Lisa was calling her, asking her if she was coming back to go to Max’s concert.
“I paid hundreds of dollars for these tickets,” Lisa informed her, and if that wasn’t a guilt trip, Bo wasn’t sure what was. “I could have resold your ticket, but I kept it at your insistence.”
Nope. Nowthatwas a guilt trip, Bo decided.
Not that she needed to be guilt-tripped into anything. She’d already booked her flights, arranged Ida to cover the shop, packed her bags and taken out travel insurance. She was curious about seeing Max perform and wanted to hear the live version of the piece she’d heard so often in Geoffrey’s study.
Bite the bullet, swallow the hair of the dog that bit you,Bo told herself as she boarded her flight from Heathrow.See him perform, clap when he’s earned it and then put it to rest, once and for all.
She stared at the clouds as the plane took her across the world, and she wasn’t full of dread or hurt or pain this time. She even smiled when her second flight approached Sydney.
Progress.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Funny story,” Lisa remarked as she picked Bo up from the airport and made the torturous drive across the city to her house. “Remember how I said the tickets for the Maximilian Fitzroy concert cost me hundreds of dollars?”
“Umm, yes?”
“Well,” Lisa carried on. “It turns out that was a fantastic waste of my money.”
Bo furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this.” With one hand on the steering wheel, Lisa reached into her handbag, pulling an envelope from it. She tossed the envelope into Bo’s lap, steering the car right as she did so.
“Umm, drive please,” Bo reminded her sister as Lisa straightened the car. She picked up the envelope gingerly, turning it over in her hands. “What is this?”
“Look inside,” Lisa instructed, and Bo acquiesced, opening the envelope and pulling out two tickets.
“I don’t understand.”
