She sipped her cocoa. She could line up her blessings no trouble, but there was still the enigma of Will. What was with him? Why had he suddenly turned on her like that? If only she could see inside his head. Reaching out to her all those years ago, then changing, as Anthony said, after he went to university, growing more and more taciturn. Coming home less and less, keeping himself to the edges of things when he did.
For years now, he had been like a ghost passing through her orbit, only ever appearing in snatches. Car shows when Anthony was putting the Morgan in for the concours, bending over the engine, his deft hands busy with some fiddly thing that Anthony couldn’t manage, fixing it but then always leaving straight after. And what about that time at Anthony’s lavish Gatsby-themed sixtieth birthday party when she’d gone all out in a glorious silver-fringed flapper dress that had made her feel every inch like Jay Gatsby’s Daisy Buchanan? Will had been there at the start, impeccably handsome in his tux. She had caught him looking at her from across the room at one point, thought maybe he would like to dance, but when she had gone to look for him just half an hour later, Marion said that he had left.
For some stupid reason it had stung. Stupid, because it was completely in keeping. Will was a past master at leaving, beating a retreat when he’d had enough, presumably, or got bored. Or when something else appealed more: skiing instead of Christmas; dinner out instead of at home with her and Anthony. Always coming through a door only to stop and turn round again, as if he’d changed his mind. Always changing his mind, throwing himself into fricking reverse!
Reverse, reverse, reverse!
Her heart paused. But what if he couldn’t simply reverse, physically remove himself, then what? She felt a tingle, her heart picking up again. What would Will Thacker do if he found himself trapped in a situation he didn’t like? For instance, if he found himself forced to travel with someone he had knowingly hurt...infuriated? She bit her lip. Would he perhaps choose to hide in plain sight by making back-to-back business calls? Oh, and when that option ran dry, when it was flight mode time for the phone, would he put his seat back, perhaps, close his eyes, blame it on a single lunchtime beer?
On point, Will!
In character, just different tactics. Curling up. Bowing out. No remorse!
Wait a minute...
She parked her cup on the sill and pulled out her phone, calling up his email.
Hey Quinn. I’m in the Paris office on Wednesday and thought it might be worth coming back via Lisbon to see how things are going. Any chance you could make it for a site visit at eleven o’clock on Thursday morning? I’m jammed otherwise, so it’s Thursday or bust for me, at least for a while. I’m keen to meet Filipe—as you are, I’m sure—and to see how the roof’s coming on. Totally understand if you’re already committed but if you could possibly find a way to make it that would be really, really great! Hope to hear from you soon. Best, Will.
No remorse, but there were lines aplenty to read between, weren’t there? Words and phrases jumping out.
Paris office...jammed otherwise...this Thursday or bust...if you could possibly find a way...really, really great!...
She felt her breath stilling. How hadn’t she seen it straight away? He was either desperate to check progress on the building or desperate to see her. Her pulse moved up. Desperate to see her but not to fly with her. Hence Paris. Hence stealing her own trick, stealing it because he was...
Oh, for goodness’ sake!
Was Sadie right after all? Was he feeling bad, feeling like an idiot? Could it be that this trip wasn’t about the building at all, but solely about seeing her? She squeezed her eyes shut. Or was she just chasing unicorns again, tilting the mirror to see what she wanted to see like she always did? Everything was a guess with Will. It might really be all about the roof, and meeting Filipe.
Except... He didn’t need her there to look at a roof, did he? And if this was only about business then his email wouldn’t have been quite so...so...breathless. She slipped her phone back. No. Will wanted her there, no question, and, bruised as she was, it was a stretch to imagine that all he wanted to do was sting her again, in which case was he, in fact, planning to apologise?
Her heart bumped. And if he did, then what? Did she cave, or stick, let herself like him again so that she could move forward with Anthony’s agenda? Or would it be better to keep him at arm’s length no matter what, let time tell? She bit her lips together. Great! So it was back to Sadie, and giving herself time to look past the thorns, giving Will time to do whatever it was he had in mind.
She folded her arms. Fine! She would give him time, go to Lisbon, but she was keeping her wits about her this time. No letting his smile blind her if she found herself in its bright beam. No letting his gaze soften her stupid. And she definitely wasn’t flying back with him. No, no, no! She would stay the weekend, fly back on Sunday. Hadn’t she been playing around with an idea that the hotel rooms should reflect the city itself? She could use the weekend to explore, start gathering inspiration, soak up some lovely Lisbon sunshine while she was at it.
She felt a smile coming. Yes. That would do very nicely. It was the perfect plan.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FILIPE’S GAZE SHIFTED past him. ‘Is this Quinn, coming now?’
His stomach lurched, or maybe it was his heart. Hard to separate the two when his insides were bunched together like this, twisting as one. Maybe he shouldn’t have positioned himself with his back to the street end, but having sight of the corner would have been too distracting. It had seemed better to face Filipe, to at least give the man the impression he was fully attentive, which he wasn’t. Not by a long mile. Because of Quinn. Because, forty minutes after take-off, his brilliant plan to come straight from Paris to avoid awkwardness had started to seem a lot less brilliant and a lot more like the act of a coward, and the thought of seeing that in her eyes, along with all the other damage he’d caused, was churning him up inside. But he’d made his bed now so...
He took a breath and turned, felt his heart rising against a cold plunging tide. Quinn indeed, coming up the street as before, except this time she was in plimsolls, loose pants and a soft-looking shirt, all cream. Her tote was orange, of course.
He swallowed his heart back down. ‘Yes, that’s her.’
‘She’s going to need a jacket on inside.’ Filipe glanced over, gesturing to his own clothes but meaning Quinn’s—that they would get dirty.
‘Yes, probably a good idea.’ He smiled, trying to seem casual, to seem as if he wasn’t frantically trying to read her mood. Impossible, given that she was focusing on the pavement ten paces in front of her. Was that deliberate, so she didn’t have to look at him, or was she simply watching for loose cobbles, of which there were many. Was she going to give him the cold shoulder? Fair enough if she did, but still, the thought of it...
Breathe, Will.
She was here, wasn’t she? She’d come. Although what did that really count for since she was bound to the project, the same as he was? Her email had been efficient but not unfriendly. In fact, borderline cheery. He had felt a wave of euphoria reading it, anyway. That was the thing to hold onto and the fact that she was looking up now, smiling on approach. At Filipe.
‘Filipe...’ She stretched out her hand for the project manager to shake. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Quinn.’ Filipe was twinkling, obviously smitten. ‘I was just saying to Will that you’ll need a jacket on in there to protect your clothes from the dust.’
Her gaze stayed on Filipe, along with her smile. ‘One of those fetching hi-vis ones, I hope!’
Filipe chuckled. ‘They’re all the rage inside, along with the hats. Very “in”.’
She laughed back. ‘Well, I’m nothing if not an ardent follower of fashion, so please, do your worst.’
His chest went tight. She wasn’t looking at him, smiling at him. Was she punishing him? If so, it was working. He could feel cracks opening inside, pain poking its fingers in. He scanned her face, looking for signs of cruel intent. A suggestion of tension along her jaw. Her smile a touch too wide, not quite reaching her eyes...
His heart pulsed. Idiot! She probably would like to punish him, but that wasn’t what she was doing at this moment. Likely she was struggling to meet his eye because of the pain he’d caused her. Easy to be casually cheery in an email. Hadn’t he pitched his own that way? But face to face was a different story. Doubtless, she was waiting for him to make the first move, which was entirely right since he was the one who’d broken them in the first place.
Come on, Will.
He collected himself and smiled over. ‘How was your flight, Quinn?’
She stiffened for a beat, and then she was turning, regarding him with a level gaze. ‘It was okay, thanks...’
He felt his ribs tightening as something shifted behind her eyes. For a piece of a second it stilled and then there was movement, a smile ghosting over her lips.
‘Somewhat better than the last one.’
