Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
The morning sun filtered through the small boat window, waking Will. He turned to his side, barely registering the lumpy mattress or the threadbare quilt. Then the memory of last night came rushing back and he opened his eyes. Elizabeth Bennet was asleep next to him, lying on her stomach with half the quilt draped low across her naked back. The second he shifted, she opened one eye, then closed it again with a groan.
“Morning,” he whispered.
The corners of her mouth turned up, even as her eyes stayed closed.
“Hmmm,” she said groggily. Her hair was fanned out across her pillow, a halo of crimson and copper and rust. He picked up a few strands and softly rubbed them between two fingers, entranced by how the color changed in the morning light.
He had flown out to East Hampton last night to tell her the truth, to admit that despite her wishes, he had intervened to help Mary. He hadn’t expected Lizzy to forgive him, but he had to try. He loved her too much to give up now. So how had they ended up here? He was still trying to work it out in his head. In the meantime, though, he was going to take his damn time soaking in this beautiful woman he loved, and who, for some reason, actually loved him back.
“You’re staring,” she said, opening one eye to look at him.
“That all right?”
She sighed, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m used to it.”
“Oh really?”
“Yup. You’re very good at it. Probably one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”
The words hit the same warm part of his chest as they had last night. “Is that so?”
She nodded, yawning.
“That’s good. Because I love you, too,” he murmured, tracing a finger up her arm, across her back.
“And you loved me first .” She hummed, a soft smile on her lips. “Supposedly.”
“Lizzy, I think I fell in love with you the minute you suggested that Charlie and I go to Donato Lodge.”
She finally opened both eyes and turned to lie on her side, her dark eyes dancing with amusement. “How is that possible? I was so mean to you.”
He smiled. “I deserved it.”
“Is that why you invited me to dinner after I washed up on your beach in Montauk like a stalker?”
“Stalkers have to eat, too.”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine what you thought when I actually showed up that night.”
The memory of Lizzy standing there at his front door, the rush of relief that had filled his body the moment he saw her face, came back to him in an instant. “It taught me to hope.”
Her smile faded as she studied his face. “Yeah?”
He nodded, watching her expression as the revelation settled in her mind. Then she slowly leaned forward and kissed him.
It was soft and languid, and after a moment he shifted over her, caging her in. When his knee coaxed her thighs open, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, her hands lacing through his hair. She breathed in, grasping the back of his head as he kissed her again.
But then she stilled, pulling back suddenly. She put a hand on his chest for him to stop.
“Did you hear that?” she asked abruptly.
“No?” he replied, caressing her collarbone with his lips softly.
She moved to sit up and he collapsed next to her, resting on one elbow.
“It’s coming from outside,” she whispered, pulling the sheet over her.
“I would hope so, considering how much space is left in here—”
“Shhhh,” she hissed, her hand moving across his chest to quiet him.
The ladder creaked, hitting against the boat several times, like someone was about to make the climb. Then it stopped.
“Oh my God,” Lizzy whispered. Will didn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation and just watched her with a half smile, unbothered. “Will! Hide or cover yourself, or something!”
“Lizzy?” Bob Bennet’s deep voice called from outside. “That you?”
“Ah, yeah?” she called back.
There was silence, then her father continued, “Permission to board?”
She replied hesitantly, “…Not granted?”
“You left your shoes out here, in case you were wondering,” he called back.
“Ah, thanks!” she yelled back, an octave too high. He didn’t sound mad, he didn’t sound worried, he sounded… like he might be amused.
“When you two are done up there, come in for breakfast. I’m making pancakes,” he added.
Then his footsteps retreated.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she exhaled, burying her face in her hands.
“He seemed… good,” Will mused.
She gave him a look. “That’s great. Meanwhile I’m going to go jump off a tall building.”
“Come on. Get up. We’re all adults here, and I don’t know about you, but I’d love some pancakes.”
“Will, my entire family is inside.”
He moved to the foot of the bed and stood, his head almost touching the ceiling. He found his boxers and slipped them on, then extended his hand to her.
“I’m all in, Lizzy.” He smiled. “You’re stuck with me, too.”
“Get ready for a shitshow,” she muttered to him, then leaned up and put her hand in his.
A disjointed cacophony welcomed them when they entered the house. Laughing and yelling could be heard over the sound of a local commercial blaring on the television.
Lizzy hesitated in the foyer, looking up at Will with a crease of worry between her eyebrows.
“What?” he asked.
She let out a shaky breath. “What if they all just… freak out?”
“They won’t.”
“What if they bombard you with insane questions?”
“I’ll probably answer them.”
“What if they’re so embarrassing I run into the woods screaming?”
He smiled. “Then I’ll come find you and bring you back.”
A smile of her own started to slowly turn up her lips. “Really?”
“Yes. After the pancakes. I’m hungry.”
She laughed. The warmth of it was enough to run a slow current through his body. He wanted to kiss her suddenly, carry her back to the boat and delay the rest of the morning for a few hours, but he could already hear movement from the kitchen.
“Lizzy?” Mrs. Bennet called out. “Where have you been?”
“Come on,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss away the frown line between her brows before leading her forward.
They entered the kitchen, but there was a delayed reaction to their arrival. Kitty and Lydia were at the kitchen table arguing, while Mary sat opposite them reading a book. Mrs. Bennet was standing at the kitchen sink, her phone to her ear as she ignored the pancakes on the stovetop, nodding and agreeing with whoever was on the other end.
Then she caught sight of Will.
Her mouth fell open as she took in his rumpled sweater, his matted hair, and his hand wrapped around her daughter’s. That’s all it took for her to lose muscle function and drop her phone to the floor.
“Oh my God, Mom!” Lydia yelled. She turned in her chair to continue chastising her, but her eyes locked on Will and Lizzy instead.
“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked her twin.
Lydia let out a strangled whine.
Kitty turned to see them, too. Then Mary.
The kitchen was enveloped in silence.
All eyes followed Will as he walked to the coffeemaker, took two mugs off the shelf, and poured a cup for Lizzy and the other for himself. Then he leaned a hip against the counter as he took a sip. “Good morning.”
“What… is… happening ,” Mrs. Bennet croaked.
Lizzy opened her mouth to reply, her cheeks so flushed it was almost comical, but no words came out. She looked up at Will for a lifeline.
He gave her one. “I’m in love with your daughter.”
For a half second it looked like Mrs. Bennet was about to pass out. The girls at the table let out a collective gasp. And Lizzy… she was still looking up at him, but the apprehension was gone. Her dark eyes were clear and large, locked on him.
“What?” Mrs. Bennet whispered.
“He’s in love with Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet announced, entering the room. He walked to the pancakes and flipped them over. “Who wants pancakes?”
And just like that, the chaos started all over again—Mrs. Bennet berating her husband, the girls firing questions at Lizzy, who tried to wave them off while Will threw his arm over her shoulder, bringing her close as he took a sip of his coffee.
Then his phone pinged with a message, followed quickly by another. He set his mug down on the counter and pulled his phone from his back pocket to look at the illuminated screen.
GEORGE KNIGHTLEY
Hey, did you see this?
The second message was a link to an article from the New York Times . Will clicked on it and froze.
A picture of Tristan Cole filled his screen. But it wasn’t the same cocky man he had seen in the city just a few days ago. This Tristan was in gray sweatpants and an ill-fitting T-shirt, like he had just been pulled out of bed by the two men in suits at his side. His hands were behind his back, and even with the black eye, Will could tell that he was crying.
LONG ISLAND PROMOTER ARRESTED ON 3 COUNTS OF WIRE FRAUD
What the fuck?
Lizzy must have felt him start, because she looked up from where she was wedged at his side, concern on her face. “You okay?”
He turned his phone so she could see the screen.
Her eyes slowly widened as she read. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Mrs. Bennet asked, looking at her daughter with a mixture of excitement and despair. “Are you pregnant?”
Lizzy ignored her. “Tristan Cole was arrested this morning.”
Mrs. Bennet’s mouth fell open in shock, while Mary let out a laugh.
“Finally,” Lydia murmured. Then she leaned forward and gave Kitty a fist bump.
“Wait,” Lizzy said, pointing between them. “What did you two do?”
“What do you mean?” Kitty asked. It almost sounded convincing, except she didn’t look confused. In fact, she and Lydia seemed to share a moment, looking at each other with smug satisfaction.
Will picked up on it, too. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Kitty and Lydia replied in unison.
Mrs. Bennet let out an impatient sigh. “I swear to God, if another one of you ends up in jail…”
“No one is going to jail,” Lydia said, about to put a forkful of pancakes in her mouth. Then she paused. “Well, except for Tristan.”
“I just helped Lydia with a… project,” Kitty said carefully.
“What project?” Will asked.
Kitty shrugged. “Just a little investigation into criminal insurance fraud.”
Lizzy stilled. “What?”
“It’s honestly not that complicated,” Lydia said as she finished chewing. “Remember that video of Mary destroying that huge modern art painting in Tristan’s apartment?”
No one answered; they all just stared at her, waiting.
“Okay, fast-forward to the next day when Lizzy came home from Montauk,” Lydia continued. “When we were all in the bakery freaking out? Well, this woman called looking for Lizzy, but Lizzy was too busy yelling at Mom—”
“I wasn’t yelling at Mom.”
Lydia rolled her eyes again and barreled on. “So, I took a message. Her name was Emma… something. I forget.”
Will paused. “Emma Woodhouse?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Then Lydia paused, taking a bite of her pancakes. “Is there any more maple syrup in the fridge?” she said around the food in her mouth.
Lizzy sighed. “Lydia, focus.”
“Fine,” Lydia said, chewing. “So anyway, this Emma woman said she knew Lizzy and that she had an art advisor emergency, or something. And then she told me that we needed to look into that painting on Tristan’s wall because he technically shouldn’t even have it since it was, like, stolen or something. Oh, and she said Mary shouldn’t feel bad for ruining it because it was awful and—”
“Lydia,” Lizzy seethed.
“OKAY!” Lydia said, dropping her fork and leaning back. “So, I got off the phone and went to tell you, but you were busy and, honestly, being kind of a bitch, so I went to Kitty and told her. And it turns out this Emma woman was right.”
Lizzy turned to Kitty, exasperated. “What is she talking about?”
“The painting on Tristan’s wall was reported stolen three years ago,” Kitty explained. “The insurance company paid out hundreds of thousands of dollars on the claim.”
“But it could have been a print. Or just a really good fake,” Lizzy said.
“Except that on the police report after the party, where it asked Tristan to list all his damaged property, he actually put the name of the painting. And its value.”
Lizzy blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Yup,” Kitty said. There was a satisfied smile on her lips.
“Which could have just been a mistake, right?” Lydia continued. “Like, if Tristan just bought the painting, how would he know? But if he was the one who submitted that insurance claim and got the payoff, all while he still had the painting on his wall, that’s like a big deal. So I called Danny.”
Will was trying to keep up and it was clear he wasn’t the only one.
“And who the hell is Danny?” Lizzy asked, looking completely lost.
“You remember Danny,” Lydia replied, as if Lizzy was being purposely obtuse. “The insurance guy with the Bentley? We’ve only been talking all summer.”
“Oh, you showed me a picture of him!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, apparently excited to have knowledge of at least one thing they were discussing. “He’s really cute.”
Lydia nodded proudly.
“Okay,” Lizzy said, throwing her arms out as if it would keep everyone on track. “So what did Danny say?”
“Well, he said technically private insurance claims are confidential, so as far as anybody is concerned, he never looked up the old claim to see whose name was on it. Which was Tristan’s.”
A ripple of shock went through the kitchen.
“So what did you do?” Will asked.
“I called the FBI,” Lydia continued with a flourish of her fork. “Obviously.”
A thousand questions began to spin in Will’s head, but it was Lizzy who was able to articulate the first one.
“You can just… call the FBI?” she asked.
Lydia rolled her eyes again. “It’s on their website. Duh.”
Will opened his mouth, ready with further questions. He wanted to know the details, to organize the information in a way that made sense.
But then he closed it again. He didn’t need to control this. All that mattered was that Tristan was in jail. And for now, that was enough.
So instead, he raised his mug to Lydia. “Well done.”
Lydia smiled smugly. “Thank you.”
Everyone watched, dumbfounded, as they clinked their coffee mugs together and gave each other a nod. Will took a sip of his, while Lydia paused to study him unabashedly.
Then her head cocked to the side. “Are you seriously a natural blond?”
The stillness was broken as the kitchen erupted in yelling again: Mrs. Bennet telling Lydia she was being inappropriate, Lydia telling her mother that it was a good question, and Kitty telling them both to stop yelling. To her credit, Mary kept her head down, still reading her book.
The sound was deafening, the scene chaotic. After a minute, Lizzy turned to Will and groaned. “This is chaos.”
He smiled down at her. Jesus, he loved this woman. No caveats or disclaimers. No deadlines or half-life. And the realization slowly dissolved the knot of tension in his chest.
“That’s all right,” he said, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Some people don’t mind a mess.”