So as long as the food is good, I don’t care about anything else.’
Those lips pressed back into a tight line. ‘Traditionally you barely touch any of your food.’
‘Today I can promise you that I’ll clean my plate.’ New leaf.
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘You’re planning on ordering the green salad and nothing else?’
She snapped her menu closed. ‘I’m having the lamb.’
‘Excellent choice, I’ll have the same.’ He handed the waiter his menu, his eyes not leaving hers. ‘How’s your father?’
Here began the ritual questions. She pushed down a sigh. Just once she’d like... She pushed that thought down too. ‘Triumphant that I’ve been forced to toe the line and run all of his foreseeable charity events.’
For the moment. Beneath the table she twisted her watch around and around on her wrist. She needed a way to find a lot of money fast. Really fast. And she had no idea how she was going to do it. Her father paid her a generous allowance for acting as his event planner, but it was nowhere near enough to help Carla in any practical way...to make amends to the other woman. And she wasn’t stupid enough to ask her father for a loan. He’d take too much delight in telling her that she was a carbon copy of her mother and to go to blazes.
Dark eyes surveyed her across the table. ‘That’s nobody’s fault but your own.’
True, but... ‘A more gallant man would’ve refrained from pointing that out.’
‘I don’t feel like being gallant today, Sophie. I feel like smashing something.’
Her ears perked up. Wow, that was out of character. Interesting.
But then he shook himself and asked, ‘How’s Carla?’
Her appetite fled at the mention of Peter’s fiancée. She stared at the screen of palms rather than at him, pain throbbing in the back of her throat. She’d been toying with her bread knife, but she carefully set it back down, afraid that if she didn’t she’d stab herself in the leg. Which was no more than she deserved, but that might get her committed. Besides it wouldn’t help anyone. She couldn’t abscond from responsibility. Not this time.
‘That good, huh?’
Carla was in drug rehab—drug rehab Sophie had to try and find the money for—but Carla had sworn her to secrecy and Sophie owed her that much. At the very least. Self-loathing bloomed in her chest. How could she have let things get so out of hand? How could she have been so blind? How could she have let Carla—and Peter—down so spectacularly?
She pressed her hands together to stop them from shaking. ‘She can’t let the memory of Peter go.’
‘And we can?’
The words burst from him, unexpected, and Sophie flinched, throwing up an arm as if to ward off the words.
Silence pounded between them.
Eventually Will cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry.’
She could feel the weight of his gaze, but she didn’t want to meet it. She adjusted her cutlery instead. ‘It’s a valid point,’ she squeezed out from a tight throat. ‘But it’s only been two years.’ It was too soon for forgetting...for letting go.
From the corner of her eyes she saw him drag a hand back through dark auburn hair. ‘I’m starting to think that us continuing to meet like this isn’t doing anybody any good, and that—’
‘No!’
Her gaze flew to his, snagged and held.
‘Please,’ she whispered. To her absolute horror tears slid down her cheeks and she wanted to close her eyes and will the floor to swallow her whole. She hadn’t let him see her cry, not since the funeral. In the humiliation of the moment she wanted to get up and walk out of this horrible restaurant, but she had to stop what he was trying to do.
‘Please, Will, I’m not ready to give this up.’ The thought of it filled her with panic. ‘Please don’t bring an end to...this. I can’t—’ She swallowed down a sob. ‘I know it’s uncomfortable. And I know I’m a trial.’
She’d been a trial to every person in her life. Except Peter. She’d try harder not to be a trial to Will in the future. ‘But, you see, you loved him. And I loved him. And remembering that, having proof—’ recognition ‘—helps.’
His skin had gone grey and his jaw clenched so hard it made her feel sick.
She mopped at her cheeks. ‘Will you excuse me while I go find the ladies’?’
He nodded.
‘Will you be here when I get back?’
She held her breath until he gave another hard nod. Without another word she fled to the ladies’ room, only giving herself enough time to splash some cold water onto overheated cheeks and to repair her eyeliner. Thank God for waterproof mascara!
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sliding into her seat again. Their meal had arrived while she’d been away, and she spread her linen serviette across her lap and lifted her knife and fork. ‘Today is always a tough day. I’m sorry that you bore the brunt of my dissatisfaction with it.’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more sensitive.’
He wanted to throttle her. She wasn’t sure how she could tell—the hard set of his shoulders maybe combined with the deep burning in his eyes.
‘How’s Carol Ann?’ she asked.
‘Fully recovered from her surgery. She loved the set of DVDs you sent her. Though from all accounts the rest of the household are being driven insane.’
That made her grin. Carol Ann was Will’s younger sister and the same age as Sophie, but she had Down’s syndrome with all of the associated health issues that entailed. Sophie had only met her a few times, but she sent her birthday and Christmas cards...and gifts on the few occasions she’d been hospitalised. They spoke on the phone. Her last gift had been a DVD box set of musicals. ‘I’m glad they’ve been such a hit. The world needs more The King and I.’
He almost smiled so she counted that as an almost win.
‘How’s your grandfather?’
All signs of humour drained from him and she winced. ‘The grapevine informs me that he’s been making another push to get you to settle down.’
‘Good news travels fast. I supposed you were at Catriona McManus’s thirtieth last weekend.’
Nope. She’d given up wild times and painting the town red. She was avoiding parties, other than the ones her father was forcing her to plan, organise and host on his behalf. It was all a part of her turning over a new leaf. But that didn’t mean she could avoid the rumour mill completely. ‘So it’s true, then?’
‘This time he’s given me an ultimatum.’
A forkful of lamb halted
