18. Will
Chapter eighteen
Will
I scan the bar. There she is, sitting in a booth, nose in a book. She’s wearing classic London corporate wear, a forest green skirt, and matching green blazer over a cream button-down silk shirt. It looks soft and smooth, like velvet. Like her skin. Her dark reddish hair is loosely braided and contrasts with the green. She looks up as I approach, tucking her thumb into her book and giving me a look so smouldering it almost melts me.
“Sorry,” I say, sliding onto the seat next to her. “Tube was late. Fucking thing is always late at the moment. They say it’s the weather, but for god’s sake, it’s barely November.”
Mia tucks her bookmark between the pages and pushes a drink toward me, as if knowing it will help. She’s right; the only thing that will ever stop me from complaining about the tube is a cold pint.
“God, you sure know the way to this man’s heart.”
She grins. “Sure do.” I wish I could have started this conversation by kissing her, or touching her at least. We still haven’t spoken about our kiss, and I’ve decided I don’t want to be the first to bring things up given she has so much going on. Even though I’m dying to talk about it, I don’t want to rock the boat. At this point, I have to assume her coming to seek me out was some kind of distraction from real life.
“How was your trip? I’m sorry to hear about Craig.” I say, trying to take my mind off other ways Mia could get to a man’s heart. I can’t go there again. It would eat me alive. After the first time, years ago, I’d been hung up on her for years. I can’t do it. Not again.
“Thanks. The trip was…weird.” I can’t read her expression.
I pick up the laminated bar menu. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to get to know him. Are you glad you went, though?” I keep my tone deliberately even. I’d hate her to think I’m judging her choice.
She fiddles with her gold bracelet. “It was so uncomfortable. Everyone knew who I was, so many people told me they knew he had been looking for me. I wished I knew more about him and my birth parents.” She picks up her drink. “Anyway, I did meet some nice people, at least. Everyone was lovely.”
“Was it as bad as you thought?”
She shakes her head, then slides her arms out of her blazer, folding it neatly on the seat next to her. “No. Awkward not to know Craig, but I learned a lot. And now I’m worried about what’s going to happen to the resorts. That guy I met in France, Bryce? He’s running them at the moment, and I hope everything my birth family worked for isn’t lost. What they’ve done is really impressive, Will.”
She tilts her head, exposing that beautiful neck of hers. Interesting; until now, she hasn’t been interested in the resorts or the work her family has put in. “I know more about what I’m missing now. Craig sounds like a great guy. My birth parents, too. I think every assumption I had about them was wrong. It’s weird to try to sort through those feelings, you know?”
Her shoulders slump. I want to brush the stray lock of hair that’s fallen out of the braid over her ear. To tell her it’s going to be okay. To comfort her. I hate seeing her look so sad. But I know what she needs right now is to have what she always calls a ‘safe place to feel’. “I’d find that really hard too. It sucks. I’m sorry, Mia.”
She looks up, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Thanks.” She gives me a weak smile. “The most interesting stuff was about Bryce.”
Our eyes meet and I know we’re both remembering our last night in France. I wonder whether my cheeks are as flushed as hers.
“Oh yeah? In France he was kind of on at you about whether he could keep doing Craig’s job?”
“Yep. I felt weird about him back then too, so I asked people. Everyone I spoke to at the living memorial hated him. A couple of people told me he’s selfish, only out for money. One guy straight up called him an asshole.” She straightens the napkin in front of her, a very faint grin flashing across her face.
“And what’s your take?”
She signs, and I can see she's struggling. “People lead differently. He’s different from Craig. I’m trying to be objective. Maybe this is a rose-tinted glasses situation. You know, we never say bad stuff about people who are sick or dead?”
In some ways, I’m not surprised that Mia is analyzing it this much. She always does. But I am surprised she’s giving Bryce such a pass. She didn’t like him from the start.
She must be reading my face like a book because she lets out a big sigh and doesn’t meet my gaze.
“What am I going to do, Will? Try to wade in there and fix it?” She takes a drink. “Of course not. I’m selling my shares and getting out of there.” She puts her glass down a little too forcefully. So much for her changing her position, then.
I hide my disapproval by tucking into our fried bar snacks. “Are you set on selling the shares?”
“I think so,” Mia mumbles through a mouthful of food. “I’ve got no reason to keep them.”
“What happened to ‘don’t make any big decisions in the first year?” I ask carefully . What I want to say is ‘I’d hate it if you had any regrets’. But maybe that isn’t my place. I wish it was my place, but I want to tread as carefully with her as she is with me.
Mia chews, then swallows. “You’re not wrong.” She nods slowly. “But my spidey-sense senses drama, and I don’t want to go there.”
“You could be the one to stop the drama?”
Mia makes a face, then changes the subject. “I got an email from Abigail—Gerrard’s Abigail—yesterday.” She tucks the loose strand of hair behind one ear again. “There’s a Christmas party at the end of November, and I’m invited. They’ve decided they want to do it even though Craig’s gone. Keep some normalcy, I guess.” She’s wringing her hands. Is she nervous? Just feeling the awkwardness between us?
I nod, encouraging her to go on. She pulls up the invitation on her phone. I steady my hand over hers to read the invitation, acutely aware of her soft skin against mine. Black tie, invitation only, the ‘event of the year’.
I laugh. “Event of the year? Well, you obviously can’t miss this, Limpet.” A blush creeps up her chest, and I revel in how good it is to be teasing her instead of feeling awkward around her. I want to lighten the mood.
“I feel like I have to go. But I don’t wanna,” she faux-whines. “It sounds like the vibe is they invite guests and guests are just rich people.” She makes a face.
“Hear me out. And don’t do that thing with your face, Listen, then do the face thing.” She pokes her tongue out at me, her laugh reverberating through me. “Doesn’t this give you a good opportunity to see how the resorts are going? And how bad can it be? It’s the event of the year . You can’t miss that, are you crazy?”
She raises an eyebrow. “I absolutely can miss that. And don’t tell me not to do that thing with my face. It’s just my face.”
I shake my head, as if I’m disappointed in her. “Your face is normally much better looking than that.” I raise my eyebrows in mock disapproval, feeling like I’m floating when she makes the face again, this time, just to make me laugh. “Kidding, I like your face all the time.”
“Okay. I really do feel like I have to go. But how about this? I’ll go. But you have to be my date.” She stares me straight in the eye, daring me to look away. A faint grin spreads across her face.
“Well played, Mia Davis, well played.” I sip at my drink to slow the pounding of my heart. What does she mean by date? Date, date? “I’m game. I’ll make the sacrifice.”
She smirks. “You’ll make the sacrifice, huh? The major sacrifice of going on an all-expenses paid fancy dress party at a resort in another country with excellent food? It’s the event of the year , Will. You’d have to be crazy to miss it.” She turns to me, face very serious.
I raise my hand to my chest. “For you, Mia, and only you and free food, I will make this sacrifice.”
“I’m glad this is just us, ” Chloe says, pouring water for both of us. It’s just the two of us for dinner tonight. Chloe insisted on trying a new Argentinian restaurant. I jumped at the chance—sometimes trying new things with Mia around can be more hassle than it’s worth. Despite Chloe being the one who is usually chronically on time and makes the rest of us look bad, today I arrive just before her and order drinks and starters before she arrives.
“Yeah? Because we can go somewhere new?” If Mia was here, there was no way we’d be here at this restaurant. She always needs a huge amount of convincing to try something new.
“I had lunch with Mia yesterday.” She hands me the water glass.
“Thanks. How was lunch? How is she?”
“Why don’t you tell me, because we were having a very normal, regular lunch until she told me you kissed her!” she hisses, glancing around as if concerned we would be overheard.
What the fuck? The murmuring in the restaurant seems to grow and grow. Mia told her that? And hasn’t even talked to me about it?
My shock must be obvious, because Chloe snaps, “Yes, she told me. What the fuck, Will?”
I’m dying to know exactly what Mia told her. “What do you mean, I kissed her?” That was not at all how I remembered the kiss. She kissed me. Didn’t she?
Chloe thanks the server for bringing our drinks, then turns her attention back to me. “Yep, you kissed her. Or, I think that’s what she said.”
I’m momentarily dumbfounded. Mia told Chloe? Chloe’s the last person you’d tell if you wanted to keep a secret. Mia knows that.
“That’s not what happened?”
I replay the moment in my head. She walked in, slowly. I sat up. I stood up, I moved toward her. But she came to me, right? She kissed me , right? Or was she talking about the kiss under the stars? That one I’m less sure of who kissed who.
“Will?” Chloe interrupts my thoughts.
“I mean, yeah. We kissed. That part’s true.” I breathe out in a big huff.
“And now you’re not even talking to her about it? What gives?” Chloe is openly glaring now. Shit. She thinks I had made out with Mia and just…well, not ghosted, but I blew her off?
“That’s not what happened.” We’re interrupted by the server again with our food. Chloe serves herself from the sharing plates, then fixes me with her judgmental look again.
“What happened then? She feels like you kissed her and are being a dick and not even talking to her about it. My words, not hers, obviously.”
A lump forms in my stomach. “That’s really what she thinks? That I used her? Fuck, Chloe.”
I must look like crap, because Chloe’s face softens. “She didn’t say that. But she’s not feeling great about it.” Chloe picks up her fork and stabs at a piece of grilled broccoli. “She likes you, you idiot. You know that. But right now she feels like you’re rejecting her.”
I stab my own piece of broccoli too forcefully and think while I chew.
“I only haven’t raised it because I didn’t want to make things difficult for her. She’s having a tough time.” I avoid talking about the resorts or money. I have no idea what Mia had told the others (maybe more than I think, after this revelation from Chloe), but I sure as shit don’t want to be the guy who breaks the news to anyone.
“I know. And she said the same thing. That she’s worried about things changing between the two of you.” She pierces another bit of broccoli. “But just because she’s scared of change doesn’t mean you can avoid talking about it.”
“Fuck. I don’t want to make her feel bad. I didn't want to put pressure on her.”
Chloe puts down her fork with a clatter. “Will, she’s a grown adult. She can make good choices to protect herself. But you have to trust her enough to let her do that. You’re not her dad, Will.” Chloe has one elbow on the table now and is leaning toward me earnestly.
Fuck. Is that how this comes across? That I’m making the decision for her? Mia needs to take things at her own pace, but are my decisions impacting her ability to make good decisions for herself? The last thing I want is to hurt her by trying to give her space, or to protect her.