THIRTY-NINE
Evie’s expression was unusually timid, almost fearful, and Aubrey’s heart, which was currently far from robust, gave an awful lurch.
“What is it?”
“I… It’s… Well… It’s probably nothing…”
Was she actually trying to kill him? His nerves were frayed. He was existing on a scant few hours of restless sleep, mostly nightmares. He had a meeting with his lawyer in a couple of hours, another with his bank to restructure his dwindling finances, he probably needed to sell his flat, almost everything that could be terrible was terrible. But five minutes ago, Evie had been in his arms and he’d felt an excruciating hope that perhaps this one, most important thing was about to turn out right. And now she looked like she was about to be sick. She wasn’t the only one.
He swore as his phone started ringing, pulling it irritably from his pocket. But it was Andrew. The man never called unless it was practically life and death serious.
“Sorry. I have to take this.”
He stood up, but, finding no privacy in the small living room, stepped out through the door onto the landing outside the flat. He leant back against the chipped, painted wood, feeling it cool and solid at his back. With an exhale, he answered the phone, thinking perhaps this interruption was a good thing. This morning’s visit, spur of the moment after days of fighting the urge to do exactly that, was supposed to be nothing but a grown up talk. See how things stood. Perhaps tentatively, carefully, protecting the crumbs of his dignity, see if Evie might allow him to forgive her. He hadn’t meant to laugh at her then kiss her. But all it took was one look. It’s what he had been afraid of.
“Andrew. What is it?”
“A call from George Blackton’s lawyers.”
Aubrey’s tension ratcheted up a notch. “And?”
Andrew paused. He was the type of man who could pause without giving anything away. It could be bad news, good news, he might be about to announce he was leaving the law to become a can-can dancer, one never knew. People sometimes said the same about Aubrey, but he was sure it was never quite so annoying when he did it.
“They’re dropping it.”
Aubrey straightened, standing up from the door and taking a step down the landing. “What?”
“The whole case. All of it. And BlacktonGold have just released a public statement clearing you of any wrongdoing—that it was all a misunderstanding. The whole company thanks you for your time there, sorry to see you go, entirely stands by you, et cetera, et cetera. Signed by George Blackton himself.”
Aubrey stared blankly down the dim landing.
“Are you there?” Andrew asked.
“Yes. Yes. I…” He hadn’t realised how worried he had been until the worry suddenly, inexplicably lifted. He put out a hand and gripped the banister rail, light-headed. “How…? What happened?”
“No idea. Not our doing. Just be happy,” Andrew said in the tone of someone who had heard the word and was using it for form’s sake, dubious of its existence.
Aubrey nodded slowly, looking back at the door to Romona’s flat. Be happy. Maybe he actually could. Maybe everything was finally going to bloody well go to plan. Aubrey Ford happy . Life going his way. Stranger things had happened.
Andrew rang off without a further word, job done. Aubrey walked back to the door and paused with his hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before he walked inside.
Evie was standing up, back in the kitchen, elbows leaning on the counter as she looked out of the window, tea in her hands. He couldn’t blame her for moving from the sofa.
She straightened up and turned towards him. “Everything OK?”
“Yes. I think it actually might be.”
“What?” Excitement brightened her face as she caught his mood. “What’s happened?”
“That was Andrew. BlacktonGold dropped the case.” He looked at his phone for a moment before he put it back in his pocket, shaking his head a little, still hardly able to believe it. He wanted it in writing. He wanted to see that written statement. “All of it. Said it was a misunderstanding.”
Evie’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing! I’m so glad!”
“I have no idea how, or why. But like Andrew said, maybe I should just be happy and not question it.”
Evie nodded. Much more enthusiastically than people normally did. He gave her a close look, but instead of meeting his eye, she whirled away to the kitchen sink, tipping away her half drunk tea, filling the kettle for more, saying something entirely random about turmeric, of all things.
“Evie…”
“Mm?” She was very intently staring at the boiling kettle.
“This thing you were going to tell me before Andrew rang… Mind telling me exactly what it was?”
“Oh. It’s, um… Well. You see the thing is… Maybe there’s…um… two things I need to tell you. If we’re being honest. And everything.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “We are most definitely being ‘honest and everything’.”
She flashed him a look, went to pick up the boiling kettle before it had even finished boiling. He took hold of her wrist, peeled her fingers from the kettle handle and forced her to meet his eyes.
“Evie. Now.”
“Don’t be angry.”
“What did you do?”
“Went to see my father.”
He paused, realisation dawning.
“This morning,” she continued quickly. “Just now, actually. Before you arrived. I didn’t think he’d be so quick. I guess I scared him more than I realised.”
“ Scared him?”
She wrinkled her nose, grimacing up at him. “I may have…um…threatened him with the exposure of all his shady dealings. Personal and professional. Suggested that my…um…team of hackers had reams of evidence from his work and private accounts.”
Aubrey stared at her.
“Please tell me you didn’t do anything illegal?” He was still holding her wrist, but it was his own pulse he could feel racing. What had she done…? He couldn’t protect her from something like that. And if she’d done it for him…he couldn’t bear it.
“Evie, do you know how serious that is? It’s not just throwing ketchup at someone, it’s—”
“I didn’t really! I’m not stupid. I was bluffing!”
“Bluffing?”
“Yes!”
“And he bought it?” George Blackton, who was one of the most experienced, ruthless businessmen in the country?
“I had some…evidence. The private medical record of his illness this spring. My mum sent it to me, didn’t even ask why I wanted it. She’s no more a fan of my father than I am. But to be honest, I think it was his guilty conscience that did most of the work. He wouldn’t risk himself or his company, not for the sake of some petty revenge on you. It was a risk-benefit calculation. The way he lives most of his life.”
She said the last part quietly, bitterly, talking as much to herself as to him. The grip he had on her wrist had softened, and he used it to pull her to him. He put his arms around her, his cheek on her head as she breathed out shakily.
“God, Evie…” His voice was quiet, too. “I didn’t want you to ever face him again. Especially not for me.”
“It was worth it. And… I think I needed to do it—for my sake, too. Stand up to him.” She drew back, met his eyes. “He said I won, Aubrey. I know I have the most fucked up, unhealthy relationship imaginable with him, but it felt so good to hear him say I’d won . If I never see him again, I’m happy to leave it at that.” She laughed slightly. “And he should have known better than to pick on someone I cared about. I’ve spent my whole life fighting. I don’t back down. I don’t give up.”
That was true enough. George Blackton probably hadn’t stood a chance. And she’d done it for him . His heart twisted sharply. Once, on a hilltop, looking out at the setting sun, he’d told her he wasn’t a worthy cause to fly her flag at. Being Evie, she’d gone and done it anyway. He was agonisingly glad.
“Thank you,” he said, lips pressed to her hair. “Thank you.”
She looked up at him, no games or mischief in her eyes. “Anything for you, Aubrey. Anything.”
God, when would happiness ever stop feeling like pain? Maybe it always would for him. He felt it too deeply. Or perhaps he was just too raw. But it knifed through him, surging and wild, a ripping, tearing joy. It was hard to keep his hands gentle as he cradled her face, swept his thumbs over the fragile cheekbones, met the wide-open look in those blue eyes. He kissed her, and that hurt, too, sweetness and fire, the touch of her mouth a flame. He wanted to sink it all inside her, give it all to her, his joy and his fear and his gratitude and his need. The way he worshipped her felt too big to hold. He had to tell her, had to let her know with the touch of his tongue and the hunger of his touch, stepping her back to bump up against the counter. This was another primal thing, like the sight of her slim body engulfed in his clothes; another way to consume, to have—
“Aubrey.” She broke away, breathless. “Aubrey…there’s the other thing… The other thing I need to tell you…”
“What?” he said, impatient. He didn’t care now, words were unimportant, nothing that had mattered mattered at all compared to the feel of her, nothing that had been terrible ever could be if she kissed him, loved him.
“Aubrey…I might be pregnant.”