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“Can’t complain,” she bites back.
Sophie clears her throat discreetly, and when we both look at her, she leans forward to mutter, “Donotfight in this restaurant.”
“Luca doesn’t fight unless he thinks he can win anyway,” Willow says with a contemptuous snort.
“Better than being a coward who chooses to run away instead.”
“If your education and books weren’t just for show, Luca, you’d know the difference between running away andtactical withdrawal.”
“Tactical withdrawal?” I sneer. “Is that what you call running away in the middle of the night? Leaving the country just so you could hide from me?”
Her arm suddenly shoots out between our chairs. She closes her fist on my collar and twists, pulling me towards her. “Do you see me hiding?”
Sophie’s mouth drops open, and Evan jumps in his seat, but my blood is rushing hot and alive through my veins. I don’t even bother trying to free myself from Willow’s grip, I snarl right up into her face.
“I always knew you for a liar, a grifter and a slut, Lynch, I could’ve even guessed you’d be a traitor too, but a coward? That was the last thing I expected.”
Before she can make a retort, the waiters approach us carrying trays, and Willow has no choice but to release me. I fix my shirt while the waiters lay out the food on the table.
When they’re done, Sophie speaks as soon as they’ve walked away.
“I think we ought to remember that this is, at the end of the day, a professional meeting designed to facilitate legal proceedings. This is anegotiation. There’s clearly some—complex history here, and emotions are bound to run high, but neither of you would gain anything by letting the past overshadow the present moment. You’re here to negotiate,notfight.”
Willow, taking her jacket off and shovelling mouthfuls of pasta in her red mouth with the grace of a ravenous tigress, jabs her chin in my direction. “Was he this much of an asshole in high school?”
“Yes,” Sophie says at the exact same time as Evan says, “Arguably worse.”
“Significantly worse,” Sophie confirms. “He was manipulative, arrogant, judgemental, a truly horrid individual and a vile bully.”
“Nothing’s changed, then,” Willow says, throwing me a dirty look. “I have no idea how you coped.”
“I beat him up in our final year,” Evan says with a shrug, following Willow’s suit and enthusiastically shoving food into his mouth.
“Evan, please, don’t tease me like this.” Willow turns those poison-green eyes and that slow-smiling mouth on Evan. “I respect Sophie too much to fall in love with her boyfriend, but you’re making it hard not to.”
Evan beams, and I almost choke on my food. I wipe my mouth with a napkin, looking at Sophie in the hope that she will shut this down with the kind of nun-like severity she used to display during her time as a Spearcrest prefect.
But all Sophie does is give an indulgent smile. “I could probably find it in my heart to forgive you.”
“I won’t ever love another woman like I love you,” Evan says to Sophie, for absolutely no reason and with reverential sincerity.
“See, this is the kind of love I need,” Willow says, pointing her fork at Evan and her eyes at me. “The kind of love I deserve.”
“A starry-eyed fool who’ll follow you around like a kicked puppy until you finally pick him up?” I reply, and, with a nod to Sophie for the sake of professionalism, a quick, “No offence, Sutton.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Evan replies into his glass of wine.
“Implying what?” I snap.
“Nothing.” Evan drinks his wine, sets his glass down, and smiles. “I’m notimplyinganything. I’m outrightsayingyou followed Willow here likeyou’rethe kicked puppy. And going by the way you looked at her when she came in, you’re a starry-eyed fool too.” He tuts and shakes his head. “You’re no better than me or Sev. You’re not even better than Z—”
“Don’t even say it.”
My stomach is clenched at the mere idea that I could ever be compared to Zachary Blackwood, who has literally loved his girlfriend since he was a child and has a level of devotion to her that causes me nothing but the most acute second-hand embarrassment.
I turn brusquely to Willow, who has pushed back the sleeves of her black dress and is enthusiastically picking mussels out of their shell with the tip of her fork.
“You have a new tattoo,” I tell her.
