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“I’ll make it worth your while. Luigi’s makes amazing pizza.”
She sighs and squeezes my hand. “Fine, I’ll do it, but only because I love you.”
“Are you sure about this?” Blair frowns at me as the car sits idling down the block from Luigi’s. “And did you get permission from your boyfriend first?”
“Ansell isn’t my boyfriend and I don’t need to check with him on everything.” I wanted to tell him, but there was no way in hell he would’ve let me come here without him, and I don’t want to spook William away. This is something I need to do on my own. I managed to slip out of the apartment without him noticing and I’m guessing I have about an hour before he starts to freak out.
Ideally, I’ll be back before he even notices I’m gone.
“Do you want me to wait nearby? Just in case.”
I open my mouth to say oh, fuck, yes, please do but instead I shake my head. “I’ll be okay.”
“That’s not remotely convincing.”
“William’s not dumb enough to do something in public. He’s got too much at stake right now and I think his father would literally kill him if he did something to make their situation worse.”
“I hope you’re right.” Blair frowns a little. “I’m gonna wait here for a little while, okay? Maybe like twenty minutes or whatever. If you feel like you want to leave, get out of there and come running.”
“You’re the best, but that’s not necessary.”
“I know it isn’t. I just worry.”
I squeeze her hand and open the door. “Thanks, Blair.”
“Good luck.”
I head toward the restaurant. Luigi’s is built on the corner of Twenty-Second and Fairmount, a short, squat building with a few tables covered in peeling laminate and a counter staffed by harried cooks in white shirts. It smells like cheese and garlic, and I find William sitting in the first booth closest to the door scowling at a slice like it was the one that ruined his life. Like it’s the pizza version of me.
He looks tired. Bags hang under his eyes. His typically perfect hair is disheveled, and his clothes look like he slept in them. I slip into the booth across from him and he looks up, his scowl deepening.
“I didn’t think you’d show,” he says, leaning back. His usual swagger and smirk is missing. “I was sitting there wondering if I’d wasted more time on you.”
“Hello, William. I didn’t know you were the one that wasted time on me. I seem to remember the opposite.”
“I wasted time and planning and energy. Do you have any idea how detailed the wedding preparation was getting?” He sighs and rubs his face. “You have no clue what my father’s been doing lately. He’s on edge, to put it mildly. He’s basically stomping around threatening to cut off my balls, and I think he means it literally.” The scowl fades and he stares down at his hands. “This whole thing is a mess.”
I soften slightly. I expected rage and anger but instead he seems beaten down and broken in a way I’ve never seen in him.
William is the typical All-American jock: loud, happy, outgoing, confident. He’s the golden retriever of people and the sort of man that walks into a room and can pick out the most important people at a glance. He’s gravity itself, bending crowds in his direction. Back when we were engaged, I was excited to get to know him better and wondered if his magnetism would extend to the majority of our life, if I would get to experience what it’s like living as someone with more wealth and privilege than sense, and if some of his blessed charm would rub off on me.
I pictured myself with him. I saw us traveling, having children, going to parties and gatherings and galas and balls and whatever else the ultra-rich do, and all the while with him by my side. There was no love, but I wanted there to be.
Now I see how silly all that dreaming was.
“I’m aware. He’s been very desperate to talk to me lately.”
William grimaces. “I assume you mean Heiko’s been after you.”
“That man is very persistent.”
“He has to be, otherwise my father would probably kill him and dump his body in the Schuylkill.” He sighs and leans forward. “If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t my idea to get Heiko involved. I’ve actually been trying to get my father to back off, even though you don’t deserve it.”
“Uh, thanks, I think.” This isn’t going how I expected at all and it’s throwing me off. I prepared for him to be extremely defensive, possibly blame me for everything and claim I was actively trying to destroy his life—which, to be fair, I sort of was—and instead, he seems resigned and broken by the entire situation. That’s an emotional register I never thought William could experience.
