Page 152 of Perfect Liar
“Ah, but the timing makes no difference, brother, now does it. You can’t ever keep your greedy fucking hands off her. Let’s go…people are gathering.”
Will agreed and pulled us both up. We packed our things and headed back to the pub.
Merchants lined the streets, selling their goods, and patrons dined and shopped. The community’s buzzing energy intoxicated me. So lively, so beautiful.
Residents, local officials, and even two photographers flocked around the restaurant as we arrived. The owner rushed out and led us to a roped off section on the large front patio. The rope did nothing. It wasn’t a wall. It couldn’t keep us safe.
Breathe. No counting.
But everyone behaved with respect and kindness, approaching Will first before engaging with me. His vibe was warning enough.
I recognized the city councilors and some other faces from the dinner at Eastridge. They all seemed so casual to me, like the violent chaos of the night before had been erased from their minds.
Will bought every bottle of the local winery’s reserve at the restaurant and gave orders to keep our glasses filled and the glasses of the other diners and anyone stopping by the patio to say hello. On top of that, he ordered servers to share trays of hors d’oeuvres with everyone.
After about thirty minutes, the chef came out to offer us the private dining room, maybe because he couldn’t keep up, but Will declined.
At that moment, I realized Will and Thomas had intentionally made our plans widely known and now literally flaunted our presence. At the same time, our party remained cautious, and everyone kept a close circle around Will and me.
Will hadn’t only sent a strong message, but he hand delivered it himself. He wanted control of Hastings, and he was taking it. He and the town shared the same name after all, and he and Ethan had bought up a lot of the business real estate, so why not?
Even when we moved inside to our table, the overall demand for our food orders, wine, and whisky created complete chaos for the charming seafood house.
Will wiped his mouth and dropped his napkin, slid his hand to the inside of my thigh, and leaned in with his mouth close to my ear, making that weak little feeling in my stomach rise.
“Go on and give Jessica a ring tomorrow,” he said.
“What? Really?”
“Yes, of course.”
“So everything is okay, Will…in Stonington, I mean?”
“The police sealed your file. They might investigate the case in other ways, but as far as I’m concerned, the case is closed for us. I gave the cop what he needed, and your interview with the commissioner satisfied his captain.”
I kissed his cheek.
“Thank you! You don’t know how much it means to me, how you take care of everything and give me what I need the most.”
Satisfaction danced in his eyes. He knew.
Right then the director of the local art museum approached our table, asking to speak with me, and Will became stern for the first time that day. He cursed when I invited her to take the seat next to me, moving John over to the next chair.
As she settled at the table, I squeezed Will’s arm.
“I’m sure it’s harmless. She’s from the museum,” I whispered.
The director was sincere, touching my arm as she spoke. Her smile reminded me of my nineteenth-century art history professor, who I had admired. She stayed only long enough for a sip of wine and to request my support for the museum’s association.
“We’ll see what happens,” I told her.
As she walked away, Will drank a shot of whisky, then leaned back in his chair and pulled me against his side. He brushed his warm mouth against my shoulder.
“You’re quite lovely, Elle. You look happy.”
I swept my fingers over his inked forearm.
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. Then he stood, gestured to John, wanting him to take his chair, and tossed his credit card on the table.