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Even if she didn’t want Neilson there, arguing was futile. If Will wanted Neilson to stick around, he would hire Neilson. Lucy had grown to like the guy, so he might as well hang out and not talk with her instead of freezing on the porch where Will would likely have him stand guard if she balked.
“’Kay.”
Will tapped out a message on his phone. “I’m also visiting our friend Max, so he’ll understand I don’t need those little blue pills he gave me. Not looking forward to that one.”
“Why?” she asked.
“My attorney’s idea. I’ll explain why we were really at Twin Lakes. If that doesn’t work, at least I’ll officially be a patient. Then he can’t legally say anything about my health. One quick, uncomfortable visit, and that’s done.”
Hell. What would a visit like that entail?
“I’m so sorry. I totally screwed up with that whole mess.”
He tossed his phone on the table and stood, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s working out. Don’t be sorry anymore.”
“I can totally vouch there are no problems in that department.” Her cheeks heated.
He kissed her forehead and moved to the sink to rinse his plate.
“What’s this?” He raised a thick manila envelope of pictures they hadn’t gone through yet from the counter.
“The last of the stuff from your boxes.”
“Huh.” He ripped open the envelope and flipped through them.
Her mug barely made it to her lips when he stilled, peering closer at one of the photos. He stared at a photo in his hand, not looking up.
“What’s wrong, Will?” She set her cup back on the table.
He raised his gaze to her, squinted, and then glanced at the photo again.
“This is impossible.” His eyebrows pinched when he frowned.
“What?” she asked.
He didn’t respond, only ran a hand over his neck.
“Will, what’s not possible?” she tried again.
He glanced at her, then back to the photo.
“You’re starting to scare me.” The rubber-covered feet of her chair squeaked against the linoleum as she scooted away from the table.
A vein in his forehead started to throb.
“Wi—”
“Lulu.”
The emphasis on her childhood name stopped her short. What was he so pissed about?
“Wi—”
“Is there something you should’ve told me, LuluBelle?” He dropped the stack of photos on the table beside her plate and pointed to the one on top—a cast and crew photo from the reality show in Florida.
Hurt played across his face, the tick in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth.
Oh, God.
