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I rejected the call, too frail to deal with it.

Another clusterfuck I couldn’t undo. I’d…slept with him. Allowed myself to go with my emotions and was now tangled up in this utter, chaotic…Fuck.

Now he was knocking on the glass doors again, and I just wanted to disappear. Peace. Quiet. Not have him call my name.

And here went the phone.

“Go away,” I answered, trying desperately not to burst into tears. Too much. It was all too much.

“Not going anywhere,” Gun Larsen said, taking a deep draw from her cigarette. At least she wasn’t on video, so she couldn’t see my dishevelled face.

“It’s the weekend,” I hiccupped out.

“Yes, and we’re doing well. I made some particular phone calls last night. Seeded some doubts and had a little fun. All in a day’s work, Dylan. It amuses me. You know this.”

“I just spoke to Veronica,” I gritted out. I wasn’t having fun. I told her that too.

“Oh, shush,” she said like she was my mother and I was a child.

I felt like one.

“How is that man of yours?” She was smiling. Another deep drag of that cigarette.

“What man?”I shrieked. Why could I never talk normally?

“Your Stewart. I spoke to Mabel. Dragged some truths out of their pretty mouth. Such a little monster, that one. Anyway. Yes. I approve. He’s a gentleman and will look after you. Treat you right. Just trust in the process, Dylan. Let this take its course.”

“Let exactly what take its course? There will be no course here, Gun. My daughter thinks she’s coming to visit, with a view to starting school here. My son can’t stop wetting the bed. My ex-wife is threatening me. I have no idea what I am doing here, and it’s all becoming a little too much.”

“Which is exactly where I want you, Dylan.”

Why was she so calm? Weird woman, she was.

I drew a breath, but she shushed me.

“I want you like this. Pushed in a corner so hard that you have nowhere to turn. See? I’m getting you there, aren’t I?”

“If you mean you’re stressing me out and putting me in an impossible situation, then yes.”

She laughed softly. “Good.”

“Then what?” I countered. I was shouting. I wasn’t proud of that fact.

“You’re talking back. I like it. Pushing. Good job.”

I wasn’t a child. I wanted to remind her of that. I didn’t, though, because she quietened me with words I had no clapback for.

“Dylan, when these things happened in the past, you crumbled. I want to prove to you that you’re stronger than that. Are you sitting there with a razor blade in your hand?”

“Of course not!” I spat out.

“Don’t take that tone with me. I know who you are, Dylan Scotland. I know what you’re capable of. I also know that you beat me by two scores on that summer course in Oxford—the only course where I didn’t get a first. I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you for that.”

“The history of family law,” I said with a weird smile on my face.

“Then you fucked off and took planning law. I never got to take you down off that stupid little throne. I have the memory of an elephant.”

“Well, you can take me down now,” I said flatly. “I think you already have.”