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Ah, avoidance, thy name is Summer!
I ignore the inner gibe and slam the door closed as the car behind my taxi gives an impatient honk.
‘Yeah, yeah...okay.’ What is it with this place?
I wave at them and sling my bag onto my back, strike off in the direction of the solicitor’s office. One upside to being heavily laden is that people—those who are looking up from their various devices, at least—clear a path for you. Definitely the right decision to get out of the cab. Even if the weather and the exertion will see me turning up looking less than best.
Less than best... I laugh. As if I even have a best.
Maybe I should have made more of an effort.
Maybe I should have flown in a day earlier, prepared more—physically and mentally.
But then, I’ve never been one for putting on a show, and Katherine respected me for that. Why change now?
And what if he’s there?
I falter on the pavement, catch my shoulder on a streetlamp and wince.
‘There’s no reason he should be there,’ I grumble under my breath, then right my backpack and my stride.
Whatever it is Mr McAllister wants to pass on, it doesn’t necessary follow that Edward will be in attendance too. And if he is going to be present, wouldn’t it have been polite for Katherine’s solicitor to mention it in his email?
Polite, yes. Necessary, no.
My pulse skips a beat and I grit my teeth. I’ve been going round in circles with this ever since I received the email and I’m sick of it. If he’s there, he’s there. I’ll simply have to deal with it. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old woman who knows her own mind and her own worth. I’m not an insecure eighteen-year-old running scared. And I’m more than capable of standing my ground and having a civilised conversation, in Edward’s presence or not.
You weren’t the one who was wronged, though...
I grimace, and the man walking towards me takes a wide berth. Not that I can blame him. I must look half crazed. But debating the past—especially that part—always sends me a little loopy. My mind races ahead, wondering if he’s married now. A father. Happy. Settled.
I feel the answer in my gut. He has to be. A man like him—kind, wealthy, sexy—is an absolute catch. And if he’s happy and settled, maybe he’ll be grateful that I left the way I did.
Yup, you keep telling yourself that, sugar!
I up my pace and ignore the pressing feeling in my chest that the past is finally catching up with me...
Edward
Charles clears his throat for the umpteenth time and my eyes narrow on the beads of sweat breaking out over his brow. He hurries to dab it dry with his monogrammed handkerchief, but I’ve seen enough and it’s teasing out an uneasy sweat of my own.
Charles is the epitome of cool—level-headed, dependable, pragmatic. It’s why my grandmother chose him to manage the legal affairs of her estate. He wasn’t just her lawyer, he was her closest friend too, which makes his discomfort now all the more concerning.
He tries to smile at me, the wrinkles around his grey eyes deepening behind his wire-framed spectacles. He looks like he’s stepped out of the nineteen-thirties, his office too, but I’m not here to appraise his dress or choice of décor. I’m here for the reading of my grandmother’s will. If only he’d get on with it...
I understand that it’s hard for him. Hell, it’s hard for us both. But the quicker we get this done with, the better.
It’s bad enough that my parents didn’t deem the reading important enough to cut their travels short. Enough that for all my grandmother loved and cared for others it’s just me sat here now. Me and whoever it is Charles has insisted we wait for. Not that he will tell me. I’ve asked. He’s denied.
Curiouser and curiouser, as my Alice-in-Wonderland-loving grandmother would have said.
I don’t return his edgy smile. I adjust my tie and glance at the old grandfather clock that has been a feature of this room for as long as I have known him.
Twenty minutes late. Just how long does he want to wait? I have places to be, people to see, distractions to pursue...
‘We’re both busy, Charles.’
I drag my gaze back to his, ignore the weight of the lie. Because the truth is I’m not busy enough. It’s been a month since Gran died—a month. And nothing can fill the void she’s left behind. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything.
