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With a frown, he plunged his fork into his brownie, chipping away a miniscule bite.

“Mmm. Now I know why you like this place. Delicious.” He didn’t return for another taste, but his hand clutched the empty fork.

“I’m ashamed of how I got sucked in. I never saw how manipulative she could be. She was charming, popular, a beautiful girl with everything going for her. And best of all, she was crazy about me. Obviously, a little too crazy as it turns out. I thought I knew her, but—”

“Harry, cut yourself some slack. She was obviously on her best behaviour whenever you were around.”

“Probably. I’ve been thinking about it a lot…what turned her into such a scheming, possessive mess. Before we began dating, I was never without female company—and I mean, never. I lost my virginity at thirteen.”

“Harry!”

He rolled his eyes and looked sheepish. “I know, eh? I was quite experienced by the time we got together, and she didn’t have the best role models for a healthy relationship—her dad had an affair with her nanny when she was a kid.” He stabbed at the brownie with his fork with no intention of taking another bite. “God, I’ve been so blind.”

His chin shot up, his eyes capturing Alex’s gaze. “I’m not making excuses for her. Whatever happened, it still didn’t give her the right to bully or steal from you. Or accuse you of sleeping with me.”

Alex smiled softly. “She made me feel guilty even when I wasn’t.”

“You too?” He half-laughed, shaking his head. “I never cheated on her. That’s the kicker. Any hook-ups, secret snogs, it was all in her imagination. I never looked at another girl. I thought she was The One, that we’d spend the rest of our lives together…”

He blinked, but not fast enough for Alex to miss a tear or two moistening his eyes.

“I’m ashamed and so sorry. About everything, looking back. The terrible box room, the fundraiser embarrassment…”

He dropped the fork and pushed his hair back, kneading his forehead as if each squeeze might dissolve the upsetting memories. “And I had your friend fired, too. What the hell was I thinking? I did it for Olivia. She was in meltdown mode and seeing her so distraught tore my heart out—she played me like a fiddle. I’m usually a pretty fair guy, but I didn’t even give him a chance to plead his case. I had no clue that you knew him…until Tom mentioned it last week. The bloke must hate me.”

“I think it bothered him for about a day, and then he moved on. Mark’s not one to dwell on stuff like that. He’s pretty positive,” said Alex. “A good guy.”

“He sounds it.”

Harry did a double take. “My God, Alex. I could use that glow to light my way through London Fields at midnight. Is there something you care to share?”

“Maybe.”

“I think wee Alex has got herself an English fella.”

“He’s Irish.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, he’s a lucky Irishman. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled through her next bite of brownie. “What are you going to do now? All those wedding plans to cancel…”

He sighed. “Ahh, it’s only money. Better to lose a couple thousand quid than have a lifetime of marital misery. I haven’t been off the dating track or without a girlfriend since I was twelve. Time to fly solo for a while. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” His tentative smile tried to convince Alex—and himself.

“And I’m also hoping we can still hang out, despite my stupidity and terrible track record in fiancées?”

“Absolutely.” Alex smiled warmly, covering his hand with her own. “Maybe it’s time we tricked a few people on this side of the pond with our brother-sister act. You game?”

Thirty-Eight

Alex, Lucy, Freddie, and Mark pressed through the crowds to join the long queue for a photo with Sherlock himself, Benedict Cumberbatch. The actor and his co-stars, plus the cast and creatives from Doctor Who, were in the midst of a weekend-long comic con in late January at the ExCel in London’s Docklands.

“I was worried your old uni professor may have fucking died or something. Two and a half weeks to respond to Isabella?” Lucy scratched the shoulder of her red pleather jacket, her Martha Jones cosplay in full effect. “Thank God he finally came through yesterday and backed you up.”

“He’d never forget me; I was such an annoying perfectionist,” said Alex. “I bet he was happy to see me graduate.”

“So, now that the suffragettes are yours again, does that mean you have two plays getting the Isabella treatment?” Freddie admired his recently autographed Martin Freeman photo.

Alex nodded. “Yep, Isabella said it’s not the norm for a student to have two entries, but then nothing about the Olivia situation was ever normal.”