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“A blockhead, an idiot, a man whose brain must literally be a lump of earth for all the thinking he does with it.” Avery attempted, and failed, to keep the rising venom from her voice with each added definition. She had known Hugh would be a stupid and arrogant man. No other sort of person would have made such a cataclysmic misstep as abandoning her friend. Hypothesis, however, did not fully prepare her for the practical application of his personality. “Why does he call you ‘Magpie’?”

Saga startled, then her shoulders hunched. She was trying to make herself smaller. “It’s a nickname he had for me when we were together. I’d go for a lot of walks in university to clear my head and inevitably, I would find things when I did. Rocks I thought were pretty, feathers, one time an antler—I’d collect them. He always thought it was a bit odd.”

Avery frowned. “He was insulting you?”

“No.” Saga came to his defense quicker than Avery would have thought. “It was just a tease, you know? Sort of a…” She struggled to find the words. “An affectionate reference to something he thought was quirky about me.”

“He was belittling you.”

“It’s a term of endearment,” hedged Saga as they boarded a train.

“Did you enjoy the term?”

Saga went still, then deflated completely, sliding down into her seat. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t think I hated it, but it did feel a little condescending.” She tried to shrug the heaviness off again. “It wasn’t personal; he was always kinda like that with everyone.”

“He was always condescending to everyone?” Avery echoed.

“I feel like you’re making it sound worse than it was.” Saga was fidgeting, not meeting her eyes.

“You appear to be making excuses for your former fiancé’s boorish behavior.” Avery folded her arms and finally took her seat next to her companion. “I worry about you meeting him alone. You’re emotionally compromised.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I was not suggesting you cannot,” answered Avery. “I am merely expressing my concern as someone who cares for you and does not wish you to make an unwise decision because you may not be aware of your own impaired judgment.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You might forgive him,” Avery answered plainly.

Saga stared at her, two wrinkles forming between her brows as they drew together. Her surprise was melting into confusion.

Avery didn’t dare say more for fear it would give Saga the courage to ask the next plausible question. The very question Avery had set herself up to answer, despite being entirely unprepared to do so.

“This is a Bakerloo line train to Elephant and Castle.” The soft recorded voice broke the delicate silence between them.

It was enough. “Why would that be the worst thing?” Saga asked.

Had she actually heard the other woman’s voice over the din of tracks rushing beneath the train car or had she read her lips? Did she even know how to answer the question without sounding like a petulant child? Because he doesn’t deserve to have her back in his life. Because a grown man who throws a tantrum as he did this morning should not be rewarded. Because of the irritating way he thrusts his jaw forward to give himself an actual chin. “I do not trust him.”

“Why not?”

He’d made her cry. Presumably many times before Avery had ever even met her, but she would not soon forget the tearstained cheeks she had encountered the day Saga saw the news in the paper. The memory of the pained smile as the woman tried to shrug off her heartbreak was burned into her recollection. She’d called herself an idiot because of Hugh. She’d felt humiliated because of Hugh. And, consequently, Avery had meditated on the many ways one might test the fragile nature of mortality because of Hugh. “Because why now?”

“What?”

“Four months later. Four months late, one might even say,” offered Avery. “Why now is he seeking to make amends? Why did it have to be on his timetable, and furthermore, why would your rescheduling cause issues at home?” Avery pointedly met Saga’s gaze. “I understand work—making the trip into London after a long day of work does sound arduous—but it would make things harder at home?”

Saga pulled her coat tighter around herself. “You think Lana might not know what he’s doing in London?”

“I believe that a man capable of lying to his fiancée for months about his relationship with another woman is capable of doing it again.” Avery was almost proud of herself for managing to at least sound objective and not voice the more emotional arguments circulating in her mind, but the sadness in Saga’s eyes prevented that kind of victory. She almost regretted saying it.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Cyanide is famously effective.”

That startled a laugh out of Saga. “You know”—the woman wiped at her eyes—“you’re really funny when you want to be.”

Had Avery wanted to be humorous in that moment? She dug her hands deep into her coat pockets, which made her shoulders hunch. “Go if you wish, but do so cautiously, and perhaps do not put too much trust into anything he tells you.”