Chapter Eighteen

Will

“It just doesn’t feel right, Margo making plans for the family. I’m the one who does that.”

I tug Mac closer and kiss her cheek. She met me from work, and we’re walking home across the park. “Did you make plans for tomorrow, then?”

It never crossed my mind she’d want to spend the day with her dad rather than me. I’ve got so used to her being around, I assumed she wouldn’t have anything else planned. How insane is that? Just as well I didn’t book a surprise getaway.

She shoots me an exasperated frown. “That’s not the point. If we are doing a family thing to wave me off to Uni, it should be up to me to plan it.”

“You didn’t organize anything?”

She pulls a face. “Will. You’re totally missing the point of this conversation.”

I grin, which obviously isn’t the right reaction since she fake punches my shoulder. “Did you tell her you can’t make it?”

“I didn’t get the chance. Apparently, Harry and Alice have already said they’re going.”

My amusement fades. “Right.”

She pokes me in the ribs. “You haven’t heard the best bit yet. She asked if I wanted you to come, too. Now, why would she ask that? It’s just weird.”

It’s my turn to frown. Although I often turn up at Carter get-togethers, it doesn’t make sense to be invited to this. “Lucas must be going.” Strange he didn’t mention it, though.

“What?” She gives me a have you lost your mind look. “How can he be going when he’s in Spain? Why would you even say that?”

That’s my cue to tell her about tomorrow night. “Because—”

“God, that’d be a nightmare.” She gives a theatrical shudder. “Can you imagine it?”

Unfortunately, yes. “What did you tell her?”

“I couldn’t say no without sounding like a bitch, could I? The thing is…” She hesitates and bites her lip, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. I have the crazy urge to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything’s going to be fine.

It’s only a bloody family lunch.

“What?” I prompt, when it appears she’s not going to finish.

She heaves a sigh. “I don’t know.” She shoots me a strangely furtive glance. “You don’t think she’s guessed about us, do you?”

Jesus. That’d be fun. “Why would she?”

“I’m probably overthinking it. There’s no reason why she would.”

She’s got me overthinking it, now. “Where does your dad think you’ve been all this week?”

“With friends,” she says vaguely. “I mean, I see him during the day when he’s around. Actually, since it’s all come out into the open with Margo, he’s been going out more than he used to.” She pauses. “Or maybe he’s been doing that for a while? How would I know, when I’ve been at Uni?”

“Do you want me to come?”

“You can if you want.”

Not the reply I was hoping for.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“I’ve got nothing better to do. Might as well.”

“There’s no need to sound so excited about it.”

“It’s not what I imagined we’d be doing for our last day together.”

“I know.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “But I had this idea. I could put off going to Oxford until early Monday morning. That gives us an extra night. What do you think?”

I loop my arms around her. She smiles at me and links her hands behind my neck. A few strands of her hair drift across her cheek in the breeze, and even though we’re in the middle of a busy public park, she’s the only one I see. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take Monday off and drive you up to Oxford myself.”

It’s almost 1:00 p.m. on Saturday when I park on Mac’s drive, behind Harry’s Range Rover. She went home earlier this morning, and I went for an extra-long run around the park. But it didn’t burn off the excess energy buzzing through my blood. I’m not sure if it’s because I have to pretend in front of her family there’s nothing going on between Mac and me, or because I missed not having her jogging by my side.

I exhale a long breath. She’s jogged with me only a handful of times. Don’t know why it feels like she always has. You’re losing your fucking grip.

Or it’s a side effect of guilt. That sounds more like it.

Harry opens the door for me. “We were about to start without you.”

“I’m not late.” I was told to arrive between twelve thirty and one. I didn’t want to look desperate and turn up early.

Harry shrugs. “The food arrived ten minutes ago. Margo’s acting weird.”

Instead of going into the sitting room where we usually have informal lunches, Harry heads to the dining room. Seriously, I thought the Carters only ever used that room at Christmas.

The table’s decked out like something from a reality show. In the center there’s a big display of dried flowers and leaves and huge twigs. I catch Mac’s eye, where she’s sitting at one end of the table, and her smile is agonized.

Bloody hell. This looks more like something my mother used to arrange when she did her charity lunches than anything I’m used to with the Carters.

“Ah, Will.” Their dad shakes my hand. “Good of you to make it.”

“Wonderful.” Margo gives me her usual air kiss, but even I can feel the odd tension radiating from her. And I’ve been told, several times, that I’m about as sensitive as a rock when it comes to stuff like that.

“Thanks for the invite.” It’s hard, but I manage not to glance in Mac’s direction. That plan’s doomed as soon as Margo waves me to the chair on Mac’s left.

Harry sits next to Alice, and they exchange an unreadable glance. Obviously, Mac and I aren’t the only ones feeling out of place. I pull out my chair and park my arse.

“Well, now.” Margo beams her professional smile around the table, the smile she usually reserves for when she’s in front of the camera. “Everyone, help yourself to lunch.” She waves a hand to the sideboard, which is overflowing with covered dishes.

Nobody moves.

At times like this, Lucas with his big mouth and easy charm would be a godsend. Harry, on the other hand, just slouches in his chair, looking vaguely bemused by the whole thing.

I leap to my feet. “Great. I’m starving.” I saunter over to the sideboard and pick up a plate. “This all looks fantastic.”

“Thank you, Will.” Margo sounds relieved. “It’s from Archipelago.”

“I didn’t even know they delivered,” Mac says, appearing by my side and taking a helping of delicate-looking ravioli.

“They don’t usually.” Margo hands a plate to Mac’s dad. “But I have contacts.”

“I’ve never even heard of them.” Harry lifts the lid of a dish that contains something hot and aromatic.

“That’s because you’re a philistine,” Mac says sweetly. “It’s only the place to go locally.”

We return to our seats, and another awkward silence falls. Margo’s next to me, I’m opposite Harry, and I can’t even see Alice because of the dried forest taking up half the table.

At least the food’s good.

Mac runs her foot along my calf, and I almost choke on a sliver of beef. I shoot her a glance, but she’s concentrating on her food as though that’s the only thing of interest in the room.

Two can play that game. I capture her ankle between my feet and hide my smirk by taking another forkful of food. She flexes her foot but doesn’t try very hard to escape. I risk another glance, and this time she’s chewing her lip and shaking with silent laughter.

This is insane. I release her before I lose it, and rack my brain for something to say. I don’t usually suffer from that problem, and never have before at the Carters, but this lunch is something else.

Before I can think of something brilliant, Margo places her knife on the table next to me and takes a deep breath. “This isn’t working, is it?”

The silence is deafening. Harry’s frowning, and when I glance at Mac, she widens her eyes in a what the fuck is happening way.

“I wanted to do a lovely lunch for you, Mac. I thought, if I did it differently to how you usually have your family do’s, you wouldn’t think I was trying to step on your toes. But this is excruciating.”

All riiight then. Harry and I glance at each other, and I’m positive the get-me-out-of-here expression on his face is mirrored on mine. Neither of us moves a muscle.

“Oh, but it is lovely.” Mac leans forward, and under the table, she gives me a hard kick on the shin. Great. What does she expect me to say?

“Very nice,” I confirm.

“I know this is your province,” Margo continues, looking at Mac. “I’m not trying to take over.”

“I never thought that.”

Christ, I hope she sounds more convincing to Margo. Or is it because I know how Mac really feels about this?

“That’s kind of you to say.” Margo stands up. Now what? “Let’s move everything into the other room.”

Half an hour later, I take the remains of our meal into the kitchen and dump it on the workbench before returning to the sitting room. Mac’s dad and Margo are on one sofa, although they’re not touching at all, and Mac’s on the other sofa with Harry and Alice. I’m consigned to one of the chairs by the fireplace.

Just as well. If I’d squeezed onto that sofa next to Mac, there’s no way I’d be able to keep my hands to myself.

“That wasn’t too much of a disaster, was it?” Margo says.

“Next time, let’s just have it in here.” Mac smiles, and I can’t look away. Her hair’s in a long plait that trails over her shoulder, and I can’t wait to tug it free with my fingers. Is it too early to leave?

You wanker. She lives here. When I leave, I’ll be alone.

Until tonight.

Got to get through the party, first. I stifle a sigh.

“You’ve got a deal,” Margo tells her before turning to Alice. “Are you traveling up to Durham tomorrow?”

“Yes, Harry’s taking me. I can’t believe this is my second year already.”

Their conversation fades into the background as I check out Mac. She has a small smile on her face, but she doesn’t say anything. Like when we were at Blitz, except now I know why she’s so quiet.

I have the mad urge to change the topic to her art, but she wouldn’t thank me for it.

My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Lucas.

Pick u up at 9

I hadn’t planned on driving to the party, but I’m not stoked at the thought of going with him. Not that I usually care. It’s fun going in the limo he hires for this type of event, but if he’s picking me up, he’ll be taking Mac, as well.

Doesn’t mean we have to get a lift back with him. We can get a taxi.

A minute later, she checks her phone before shooting me an inscrutable glance. Lucas must’ve texted her. Don’t know why she’s giving me the side-eye, though.

“You’ve been looking so much better this week, Mackenzie,” her dad says. “That break did you a world of good.”

“Mmm.” She gives a restrained smile. I sink as far back into my chair as possible, but luckily no one’s looking my way. Why would they? As far as they’re concerned, that weekend was totally in the friend zone.

“Oh, where did you go?” Alice asks.

“Uh, Wales.”

“Sometimes a change of scene is all you need to see things more clearly,” Margo says.

It’s like they’re having a coded conversation. Except Mac doesn’t look as though she has any more idea what Margo’s on about than I do.

When everyone leaves, Mac comes over to me. “Lucas sent me a text. He’s flying over with Violet, and they’re going to the party tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry. I kept meaning to tell you that.” By the time we got back to my flat yesterday, I’d completely forgotten.

“He’s hired that limo and is picking me up.” She pauses and glances toward the door, but it seems her dad and Margo are having a long goodbye. “And apparently you’re bringing a date.”

I swear under my breath. “I don’t know what’s up with him. I told him I’m not seeing anyone.” At least, I think I did. I can’t remember what I said now.

She traces the tip of her finger across my chest. It’s an oddly tentative gesture, not like her at all, but before I can comment on it, she takes a deep breath. “Did he ever know about your ex from Uni?”

Okay. I wasn’t expecting that. “No. Like I said before, it was just a Uni thing.”

“Just casual, then?”

It’d be so easy to agree. It’d stop the questions I know she wants to ask. But it wouldn’t be the truth. “It was serious.” Don’t say it. But for some reason, I need her to know. “I thought it was serious.”

“But she didn’t want to keep in touch after you graduated?”

“It wasn’t that.” You know me, Will. I don’t do family shit. “She wasn’t expecting me to join the business. That had never featured in the plans we’d made together.”

Comprehension dawns in Mac’s eyes, and she sucks in a sharp breath. “She left because your dad died?”

It’s the first time anyone’s said that to my face, and it feels strangely right that it comes from Mac, the girl whose support got me through that first tough year.

I could shrug it off. Change the subject. But it’s too late for that. And I don’t want to, anyway. “Yeah.”

She cradles my jaw, and I cover her hand, sliding my fingers between hers. I don’t know why I feel so good when I’ve just spilled my guts, but I’m not about to challenge it.

The door swings open, and Harry comes into the room. The three of us stare at each other, frozen in place. Why isn’t she pushing me away?

“Huh.” Harry gives us a suspicious frown as Mac slowly drops her hand from my face. Not that she puts any distance between us. I rake my hand over my head and can’t think of anything to say. At least we weren’t kissing.

She gives him a brittle smile, not that he seems to notice. “Did you forget something?”

“My phone.” He goes over to the sofa and picks it up before turning back to us. “Am I missing something?”

“Alice?” I suggest, which at least earns me a quick smile from Mac.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his mind. “Never mind. See you later.”

As he leaves, their dad comes back in. “I just had a message from Lucas. He and Violet are popping in later. What a pity they couldn’t get here earlier for the lunch.”

I don’t want to leave, but I can’t hang around now everyone else has left. It’d just look weird. “I’ll see you later,” I tell Mac, and she nods before walking with me into the hall.

“Anyway,” she says, “thanks for coming today. It wasn’t too bad in the end, was it?”

“You do realize the scariest woman on the BBC is a bit afraid of you, don’t you?”

That makes her laugh. “That’s insane.” Then a small frown creases her forehead as though she’s just guessed I wasn’t joking. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. That’s weird. But it does explain the dining room.”

I glance over her shoulder, but there’s no sign of her dad. It’s a bad idea, especially when her brother’s picking me up later, but I still ask the question. “I suppose there’s no chance of you coming home with me now?”

“I’d love to.” Regret fills her voice. “But I haven’t seen much of Dad this week. I’ll stay over tonight, though.”

“Okay.” I risk a quick kiss, and her smile doesn’t make it any easier to leave.

It’s only a few hours until the party. I’ll do whatever I usually do on a Saturday afternoon that doesn’t involve her.

It won’t be difficult. This is only the third Saturday we’ve been together, including our visit to Jake in hospital, and last week we were in Wales.

So why is it so hard to think of how my Saturdays were before Mac?