It’s as I’m thinking of this that a loud laugh pulls my gaze over Molly’s shoulder. At first, I thought it was James. It would be psychotic of me to think I’ve suddenly acquired some kind of psychic ability, but it’s as if I’ve manifested Will by sheer power of thought, as he’s suddenly there, staring directly at me with those icy eyes. He’s dressed up for the occasion in yet another navy suit, an espresso martini glass in his hand. The martini in the midst of James’s beer event feels like a very distinct “fuck you,” and I’m sure he knows it.
My pulse spikes with terror and rage as I take in his appearance, but I do my best to quickly smother the fear and fury. This might be the first time I’m seeing Will since the blackmail, but I need to keep it together. Otherwise, he wins. How or what is not clear, but reacting unmistakably feels like a loss. Another one.
Will and I are still staring at each other. The elegant blond chignon of his wife, Vanessa, drifts behind him as she chats with someone in what looks like stilted conversation. I’m all for spousal independence atparties, but rather than voyaging out on her own, Vanessa always has a sense of drifting unmoored at these things. Her husband is not a good life raft.
Will’s eyes narrow and I wonder if he has been reading my thoughts, given the hostile look on his face. Although I suppose if he suspects I’m a murderer, to look at me fondly would indicate a level of insanity. His mouth is opening as if he’s standing right in front of me and is about to speak, when a hand takes hold of my waist. I know immediately that it’s James’s hand, just a breath before the hot words are whispered into my ear.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
I don’t have an answer. At least, not one I like.
“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” I ask, voice low.
James looks to Will and back to me. “I don’t like the idea of leaving him unsupervised with everyone. Who knows what he might say or do? Even if he does seem weirdly together.”
But when I look at Will, I catch the scent of something else, something nudging his spine straighter and holding his shoulders broader. What does he want, and what will he do with what he knows? That ever-present fear sitting beneath my skin begins to crawl out of my pores.
“Do you think he’s going to say something?” I ask. “Is this about me, or is this about you?”
“I don’t know.”
I weigh our options up. “Let’s just talk to him.”
James’s eyes flash panic. “Here?”
I shake my head. “Downstairs, where it’s quieter.”
James nods, takes my hand, leads the way. The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea, only the path to Will is no road to salvation. Smiles follow us as we pace the terrace, but people back away when James andWill finally draw near. There’s an implicit understanding that this is not a conversation for other ears.
“Lovely to see you could make it,” James says. Will’s expression is almost defiant in the sarcastic arching of his eyebrows—they both know he’s not welcome here—although his eyes flash an unreadable question as they flick to me. Before Will can say anything, James pushes on. “Actually, I’m glad you stopped by. I’d really love your opinion on some of the flavors we’re experimenting with for the IPA. We’ve got some samples downstairs. Come with me.”
It’s too firm and reasonable a request for Will to justifiably protest. “Sure,” he says, clearly anything but.
“Nice to see you, Will,” I say as we turn for the staircase, suppressing a smile at the frown that draws his brows together and sends a glance my way. It’s the little things, sometimes. It’s work understanding people and how to get them to feel comfortable around you, but it’s fun to make them uncomfortable, too, now and then.
We’re silent as we make our way down the stairs and into a booth, tucked away at the back of the pub. It’s less quiet down here than it was before, but this area is empty. Will sits on one side of the table, James and me on the other.
“Well, this is cozy,” I say, trying my best to suffocate the fear and draw on the simmering anger as I sit across from the man who’s stolen my IVF money. It was only a couple of months ago I got it transferred from my estranged grandmother’s estate. Only a couple of months to live the dream of having a family before it was snatched away. I’m putting on a good show, but I feel sick to my stomach.
Now we’re no longer in full view of everyone, Will’s energy is nervous, jittery. He’s leaning as far back as the bench will allow him, as if I might reach over the table at any moment, a knife unsheathed, going for the carotid. But that’s not me. I can’t let that be me. In fact, I’mrelieved to find the thought not particularly tempting. Perhaps James is right; I’m healing.
It’s too silent for a conversation, Will’s lips stitched together in a new but apparent wariness, and James’s lips forming a thin line of something alien on his face: anger. I don’t like having to be the one to show my hand first—it’s the worst possible way to start a negotiation, if that is what this is—but someone needs to get the ball rolling.
“So, who wants to sta—”
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Will says coldly, running a hand over his chin. The gesture makes it look like he’s trying to hold in more words from blurting out. “Vanessa’s just upstairs. If anything happens…” He leaves the sentence unfinished. Takes a sip from his drink. A little droplet of brown splashes onto the pale blue of his shirt collar.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Will,” I say.
He simply looks away from me, pointedly staring at James as if I’m not there. James takes my hand, squeezes it. He eyes the almost-empty glass in front of his brother and looks up at Will. “You seem out of sorts. Need another?”
“No, thank you,” Will says, grinding his teeth. “Have you forgotten I have a problem with drink?”
“No, but I was wondering if you have,” James says, cool as anything.
The friction between them is beginning to grow so rapidly that I can almost smell smoke rising from it. If unchecked, it will soon fan into flame. While a not insignificant part of me would love to watch Will burn, now is neither the time nor the place. Too many other things would catch fire.
“Look, Will, we’re a little surprised to see you here,” I say. “We’re just curious, that’s all.”
