His handsome face slowly turns back to mine. All previous amusement has disappeared as if it was never there. He looks grave. ‘Then why were you at his club?’
My mouth snaps shut momentarily. ‘I . . .’
His grey eyebrows lift slightly, his question and look making me retreat in my seat. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing materialises, prompting William to come closer. ‘Punishing him, were you?’
I’m immobilised by realisation, crippled by the cold, hard truth. ‘I’m not . . .’ I can’t finish.
William slowly pulls back and settles his eyes on my hand, where I’m fiddling with my ring. ‘You are more like your mother than you realise, Olivia.’ He gently clasps my hand and takes over the twirling of my ring. ‘Don’t mistake that as a bad thing. She was a beautiful, passionate woman with an addictive spirit.’
A lump the size of London has jumped into my throat, and I turn away from him to gaze out the window so he doesn’t see my tears. I don’t want to be like her. Selfish. Reckless. Naive. I want to be none of those things.
The ring on my finger is silently twirled by William while I have my tears. He says no more, and neither do I.
Much to my relief, Nan isn’t home. She’s left a pot of stew, along with a note to let me know that she’s gone out with George. After finding my new phone, I tag on a message to hers saying I’ve gone out with Sylvie, leaving my new number for her. Then I spend an hour slowly getting myself ready, but more time is spent mentally preparing, rather than making myself look presentable.
At six thirty, I wander down the garden path to the Lexus awaiting me. The driver opens the door; I slip in quietly and immediately feel his grey eyes on me.
‘You look lovely,’ William says genuinely, and I look over to find him taking in my short black dress, one of only three evening dresses I have.
‘Thank—’ I’m interrupted by the unfamiliar sound of a phone chime, but William doesn’t go to retrieve his mobile and after it rings for a few moments, I realise it’s coming from my purse. I rummage through, locate my new iPhone on a frown, and glance down at the screen. Then I look to William.
‘Just checking.’ He smiles, his hand appearing and cutting the call from his own phone.
‘Haven’t you got better things to do than ferry me around?’ I ask, slipping my phone back into my bag.
‘I have plenty to do, and doing my best to stop you from free-falling into his world is one of the most important.’
‘You’re a hypocrite,’ I accuse, fairly or not; I don’t care any more. ‘Your world, his world. It’s more or less the same damn thing. How can you claim to know him so well?’
‘Our worlds collide every now and then,’ he answers swiftly, and devoid of feeling.
‘Collide?’ I question, a little confused and also cautious with the use of the word collide in that statement. Collide hints at crashing. He didn’t use meet or pass.
He leans towards me and speaks on a mere whisper. ‘I have morals, Olivia. Miller Hart does not. It’s caused friction between our worlds. I don’t agree with how he conducts business and I’m not afraid to tell him, despite that lethal temper of his.’
I recoil, unable to argue with him. I’ve seen how Miller conducts business and I’ve seen that temper. ‘He can change,’ I murmur, knowing I’ve failed to inject any confidence into my tone. William’s sardonic huff of laughter tells me he’s just as doubtful. ‘I’d like you to drop me around the corner,’ I say confidently, knowing that Miller isn’t likely to appreciate me being dropped off by another man, especially William and especially knowing that their worlds collide every now and then. I don’t want tonight to be one of those every now and thens.
‘Of course.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Tell me,’ he begins, ‘how such a stable, sweet young woman could fall in love with a man like Miller Hart.’
Like Miller Hart? Stable and sweet? I wrack my brain for an answer to that question. And I find nothing, so I utilise Nan’s words. ‘We don’t choose who we fall for.’
‘You might be right.’
‘I know I’m right,’ I say to myself. I’m living proof.
‘And knowing what you know, you still feel the same?’
‘I know he hasn’t been with another woman since he met me.’
‘He’s had dates, Olivia, and please don’t try to tell me otherwise. Don’t forget, there’s nothing I don’t know.’
‘Then you’ll know that he hasn’t slept with any of them,’ I grate, feeling my patience wearing thin.
‘And I’d love to know how he avoided it,’ William muses. I don’t reply to that, quietly pleased that he hasn’t challenged my claim. ‘I have a question. Probably the most important question.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Does he love you?’