28. Will
WILL
Ilean against the bar, absentmindedly swirling my drink, watching Abigail laugh at something Judy says. The Bar Association’s quarterly meet-up is in full swing. Soft jazz playing in the background, the clink of glassware, the low murmur of lawyers trading pleasantries and subtle power plays.
Not exactly my scene.
If it were up to me, I’d be on the couch at home, Abigail curled against my side while we half-watched some mindless show. But she likes these things. She promised Judy she’d be here to help with the foundation. So here I am. Her plus-one, attending our first official event as a couple.
The case wrapped weeks ago. There’s nothing left to hide. We’re public. We’re official. But still, she holds something back. Like she’s bracing for someone to connect the dots and start whispering behind their wine glasses.
I get it. Reputation matters.
But if it were up to me? I’d rent a billboard. Hell, I’d write it across the sky: She’s mine.
That old guy from the last mixer is here too, standing beside his elderly friend. Judy’s guy, I think. He looked too happy to see Abigail, like he forgot how things went down last time. One look from me was enough. He backed off.
Still, the idea of anyone thinking they have a shot with her grates on me.
She’s mine. She loves me.
I glance over at her again. She was glowing when we arrived. Excited, animated, ready to reconnect after missing a few of these. Now she’s quieter, staying close to Judy, like she’s retreating into herself. I don’t like it. I don’t know if someone said something or if she’s just feeling off.
A familiar voice cuts through my thoughts. “Back again?”
Victoria Scarsguard slides in beside me, all spicy perfume and practiced confidence. She’s wrapped in a red dress that was clearly chosen for maximum attention.
Not this again.
“Abigail likes these things,” I say, flat and uninterested. This woman can’t take a hint.
Victoria’s lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She glances toward Abigail, disdain written all over her face.
“Abigail,” she repeats, like the name leaves a bad taste in her mouth. No surprise. She’s probably already heard about us. The legal world’s gossip mill working overtime. “She’s a bit vanilla, don’t you think? For your tastes?”
A slow burn rises in my chest.
As if she has any idea what I want. What holds my attention.
“You could have anyone,” she says, still circling. “And you pick someone so—”
I turn to her, my voice low and cold. “Never insult her in front of me.”
The air thickens between us. She stiffens, her smirk faltering into something fragile.
I don’t wait for a reply. I walk away.
As I make my way toward Abigail, Judy steps aside to greet someone else, leaving us alone. I reach for Abigail’s waist, but she gently pushes my hands away. The gesture is subtle, but it stings.
Why does she care so much? Everyone here knows we’re together now.
“Is Victoria alright?” she asks, her voice edged with concern.
I glance over my shoulder to see Victoria walking briskly toward the exit, heels clicking with purpose.
“I saw you two talking,” Abigail adds, half-turning like she’s about to follow. “Maybe I should see if she’s—”
“Leave her,” I cut in.
Abigail looks at me, rolls her eyes. She assumes Victoria made a pass at me.
It wouldn’t be the first time. It happens often enough that Abigail has started joking about it.
But I don’t let her jokes linger long. I make sure she sees me shut it down.
Every look, every flirtation, every inappropriate comment.
I want her to know, without question, that there’s no room for doubt. No space for worry.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say.
She hesitates, eyes flicking around like she’s checking to see who’s listening.
But before she can answer, a familiar voice interrupts.
“Will Carter!”
Tina appears out of nowhere. Her smile is wide as she steps into the space between us.
She barely acknowledges Abigail, offering only a quick glance before focusing all her attention on me.
“Your talk was hands down the best we’ve had in years. You have to come back.”
Abigail gives me a look that says everything: Here we go again.
“I don’t know about that,” I say.
“Oh, come on,” Tina replies, sliding her hand onto my forearm, fingers trailing in a slow, too-familiar stroke. “Everyone would just love it.”
I step back, putting space between us.
“No.”
I let the word hang in the air. Tina’s smile tightens. She hesitates, then forces a polite laugh before retreating. But not before shooting Abigail a sharp look, as if it’s her fault I turned her down.
Abigail exhales softly. “Another friend who suddenly dislikes me. It’s like everyone’s turned on me.”
That’s it. That’s what’s been bothering her.
“They’re just jealous because you’re beautiful and perfect.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “The only thing that’s changed is that I’m with you.”
Guilt knots in my chest.
She cares deeply. About people, about relationships, about belonging. And now, because of me, they’re looking at her like she’s an outsider.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Don’t be. It’s just upsetting, that’s all. I’m happy about us. I just didn’t expect so much negativity.”
“Who cares what they think? Maybe we give them something to be jealous of.”
I raise an eyebrow, and she reaches for my hand. It’s small, but it’s something. A start.
This will pass. The parasocial attachments people form with me are strange, at best. But I’m not letting her carry the weight of that. I slip my arm around her waist and hold her close.
She relaxes into me, then goes stiff.
I feel her sharp inhale before I see him. Her boss. What was his name? Doesn’t matter. The way her spine locks beneath my arm tells me enough.
He strides over, his eyes shifting between us as I pull her closer. The air thickens with his cheap cologne. It’s like something you’d smell in a funeral parlor.
“So.” His lips curl. “The rumors are true.”
I tilt my head, playing dumb. “Rumors?”
His jaw tightens. “About you two.”
“Us two?” I echo, keeping my tone light.
“You’re together.”
I glance at Abigail. Her face is tight.
“Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”
Neil’s mouth flattens into a thin, bloodless line. “It’s inappropriate. Given the circumstances.” His attention shifts to her. “I expected better from you.”
“As Abigail's lawyer, if I find out you’re creating a hostile environment for her because of her personal life, I’ll make sure you pay for it.”
Neil scoffs. “You can try.”
“I won’t need to try. I’ll bleed you so dry you’ll be pawning your mother’s silver to cover the settlement.”
Abigail’s fingers tighten around my arm. “That’s enough.”
Neil steps back, still fuming. As he walks away, he throws one last shot over his shoulder.
“This raises serious questions about that settlement. We’ll talk Monday.”
“I’ll be there,” I call after him.
The moment he’s out of earshot, I let out a hard breath. “I don’t like how he talks to you.”
Abigail turns to me. I brace for a lecture, but instead, she asks, “The settlement was clean, right? That was Donovan?”
“Of course,” I say.
It’s a lie.
Because if she knew what I did, she’d never look at me the same way again.
“Mr. Carter?”
A woman’s voice cuts in. I suppress a sigh. I can’t wait to get out of here.
She’s small. Barely five feet, even in heels. Dressed in a clashing mix of purples and greens like she raided a tropical bird’s closet. Judy would probably love it.
“Minnie Black,” she says, offering her hand. “Director of the 33rd Annual Alton Hills Business Awards. You haven’t responded to our invitation.”
We shake. I start to say, “Honestly, that kind of thing really isn’t—”
“You should attend this year,” she cuts in, her tone sharp despite the smile.
So. We’re winning something.
Before I can reply, Abigail steps forward. “Count us in.”
“Perfect,” Minnie beams. “I tried to seat you with your mother, but her table was already full.”
Mom.
She could have mentioned that earlier.
“See you both there!” Minnie calls, already disappearing into the crowd before I can get a word in.
Abigail grins. “Look at you, business award winner. And I get to meet your mom. What’s she like?”
I pause. “She’s alright. Once you get used to her.”
Abigail lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound super encouraging.”
There’s no point sugarcoating it. My mother is cold.
The kind of woman who can turn a compliment into a critique without raising her voice.
She doesn’t let people in, not really. Never has.
And Abigail. God, Abigail is the softest, kindest person I’ve ever known.
If anyone could find something to criticize about her, it would be my mother.
And that’s what worries me. Not what she’ll say to me but what she might say to Abigail.
“Even if she hates you, it doesn’t matter,” I say. “I love you.”
Abigail frowns. “Why would she hate me?”
“Because she doesn’t like anyone.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “That can’t be true.”
“If it were up to me, you’d never have to meet her.”
Her shoulders dip slightly. It’s subtle, but I see it.
Tonight didn’t go the way she hoped. I know she wanted to feel welcomed.
Seen. Instead, she’s had to smile through side-eyes and backhanded compliments from people who once called her a friend.
All because she’s with me. And then there’s what her boss said.
“About your boss—” I start.
“Neil,” she says quietly.
Right.
“I’ll come to the meeting Monday,” I tell her.
She pauses, then nods. I half-expected her to push back, to say she could handle it. She usually does. But not tonight.
Maybe it’s because she knows now she doesn’t have to do it alone. That I’m in this with her.
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
She looks down at our joined hands, then back up at me. Her expression softens just enough, and something settles in my chest.
I can’t shield her from everything. But I can stand with her through it.
And I will.