“She says it’s important.”
“So is this!” Lizzy said, her voice almost a shout. Then she let out a sigh, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment’s reprieve before continuing. “Just take a message, okay? I’ll call them back later.”
Another eye roll, then Lydia disappeared into the back again.
“No one in this family cares,” Mrs. Bennet moaned. “What aboutme?”
Lizzy wanted to argue. She wanted to tell her mother she’d just cut the best week of her life short to be here, that she’d put her dreams of becoming a journalist on hold for her family. But the fight had left her. She felt hollow, like all her emotions had been used up and she didn’t have the strength to replenish them again.She turned to Jane. “Take Mom home. Lydia and Kitty, too. I’ll call Dad and close up here. We’ll figure out next steps in the morning.”
Jane paused, giving her sister that look they had shared since they were children, but now it was laced with concern, as if for a moment, she saw the full weight of what Lizzy carried with her every day. Then Mrs. Bennet wailed again and Jane sighed, ushering everyone out the door before she disappeared with them.
The next few hours were a fog. No one came in, and her calls to her dad went straight to voicemail. Despite the promise of no customers tomorrow, Lizzy still went through the motions of prepping the bread dough, filling the muffin trays, getting everything ready for tomorrow’s usual five a.m. start.
She locked the doors at five p.m.
She was home by 5:10 p.m.
Her dad’s sailboat was dark and empty as she walked by it on her way to the front door. She ignored the arguing and yelling inside the house as she marched up the stairs and into her room.
Once the door was closed, she emptied the contents of her Montauk bag on her bed. There were her books, her clothes. All her surfing supplies. But then she found what she was looking for: Will’s hooded sweatshirt withCOLUMBIAwritten across the front.
Then I won’t keep you. His words rang in her head. It had sounded so final. A punctuation on their time together, one that ended it with a definitive period. But what did she expect? She had taken for granted that they had time to figure out what this was and where it was going. But now they were left with this truncated version of events, and no road map of where to go next.
That was her fault. She’d left without letting him know what she wanted. What she expected. God, she left without even getting his number.
Of course, she could get it. She could probably find a way to callhim right now. But she didn’t want his pity, or to become another problem he had to solve. She needed to fix this herself.
She slipped the sweatshirt over her head. It still smelled like him. Sandalwood and leather and salt. She burrowed her nose in it, closing her eyes and working to memorize each note. The smell would fade, she knew that. But for now, she could hold on to it. Even if only for a little while.
CHAPTER 31
Will had spent the past eight hours searching every inch of Manhattan, fueled only by pure rage and endless cups of coffee.
It shouldn’t be this hard to find a prick like Tristan. The guy was a creature of habit and lived his life online. His location was tagged in every post. But there had been nothing in the past twenty-four hours. Now it was Monday, and Will couldn’t ignore the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers. On his way back into the city yesterday, he’d had his lawyer call every police precinct in the city until they found Mary, only to learn that her first court appearance was Tuesday morning. The clock was ticking.
Will didn’t panic. He prided himself on keeping his emotions in check regardless of the situation, but as he combed the city streets, visiting all of Tristan’s favorite haunts—a high-end hotel on Grand and an underground VIP room in the Lower East Side, a rooftop bar on Thompson—he couldn’t help the anger that burned in his chest. Mary had broken the law in spectacular fashion, but Will also knew there was no way Tristan was completely innocent, either.And while he might not be able to prove it, he could at least make sure Lizzy’s sister didn’t carry all the blame.
Of course, Lizzy had told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want his help, that she didn’t need it. He could have listened, stayed in Montauk and away from this mess. But he would never forget the look on her face when she got that call. The worry and fear and dread that bled through her expression. It had only been there for a split second before she hid it away again, ready to tackle this problem for everyone. But even though he knew she’d try her damnedest, she couldn’t fix this on her own.
But Will could. And if doing so meant she ended up hating him, so be it. He would find a way to apologize. To be happy with whatever she offered him in return, even if it was only scraps. Any piece of her would be enough. Because right now, he was starving.
Then his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.
“Hello?” he answered, turning down Spring Street.
“Any luck?” George asked.
“No,” Will replied. He hadn’t planned on telling his friend anything, but he’d happened to call right when Will was leaving Montauk.
“Did you try that old Chelsea hotel with the downstairs—”
“Yes, I’ve been there. I’ve been fucking everywhere.” He stopped on the corner, taking a deep breath to keep his anger in check. “Have you found anything?”
Will had filled George in on Tristan’s history with the Darcy family earlier. He hadn’t wanted to, but he needed help scouring Tristan’s social media accounts, looking for any clues as to where the man might be.
There was a commotion on the other line.
“Hold on a sec,” George replied. Then he paused, and Willcould hear Emma in the background before his friend spoke again. “Emma needs Lizzy’s number. She says it’s about the Betrug.”
