Page 2 of The Grand Duel

Her way of not outright asking me if I’m okay. “You know I will be.” I walk to my car and lean back against the driver’s door. “I’ll be out, though. To the estate. Tomorrow maybe.”

“You don’t have to. You’ll be here Sunday, and it’s a long drive. I know you’re busy.”

“I’ll be out. Just let me double check my diary, okay?”

She sighs, relenting. “I hate that he’s alone today.”

“Me too,” I mutter back, clenching my jaw tight.

“Thank you for trying. I can’t even imagine how…” She trails off. “I…”

And that’s exactly why I do it.

So that she doesn’t have to.

“It’s fine, Scarlet,” I lie, knowing she’ll be struggling today. Knowing that if I don’t get off this phone, she’ll hear my struggle, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? If you need anything, let me know.”

I hang up and blow out a heavy breath, scrubbing at my face.

I have a meeting at my headquarters in forty-five minutes, which is over an hour away, and I left the notes for said meeting in my office.

I pull my hand from my face and look down at my phone screen.

Edna

I’ve got the notes. I’ll meet you there.

Mase

I need you at around five today if you’re free.

I’m not. I open my mum’s reply to our conversation this morning.

Mum

Well it will be good to see you at some point before Christmas, love. No stress. Don’t work yourself too hard please. I love you.

I look up at the prison, my head spinning at the fact Lance still refuses to see us. After so much time, you’d think he’d get the hint and know that we’re not going anywhere. You’d think he’d fucking get it.

I reply to Mase.

I’ll see what I can do.

My mum.

I love you too, mum.

And then I open a new message.

Fuck you, Lance. That’s what I’d have said to you today if you’d had the balls to look me in the eye. Fuck you. For every day passed that you let them be alone. For not knowing that your daughter exists and took her first steps yesterday. For the fact you’ll never read this fucking message. Fuck you.

I hit send and turn to pull open my car door, but my phone slips from my grasp and bounces on the tarmac.

I look down at it and snigger, and then I boot the thing with the top of my shoe, sending it skittering under a row of parked cars. “Fuck!”

The choices we make today define us for the rest of our lives.

It’s all I have at this point—a choice.