Page 12 of Avalanche (Endless Winter #3)
Liam clears his throat and I find myself squirming internally under the sharpness of those grey eyes that see everything.
“There’s a decent cafe at the end of the street,” I suggest, tilting my chin to where a red and white striped awning stretches out over an ice-covered sidewalk.
It’s the sort of place that probably puts tables and chairs out in the summertime, with blankets on hand to keep off the chill. Right now, it’s relying on the golden glow of its windows to attract patrons, promising warmth and escape from the cold.
Matty blinks at the menu tacked up outside the front doors, and I realize with a twinge of guilt that this is probably one of the more expensive cafes in town.
I’d discovered it when I first arrived, when my bank account was still full enough to give me a false sense of security.
When I’d been certain that my financial situation was a temporary annoyance, that my parents would come to their senses.
Now, coming here seems like a wasteful extravagance.
“Oh, this looks nice!” Lily breaths, beaming at the sight of freshly baked pastries displayed in one of the windows. Matty rushes forward to open the door for her, a besotted smile dimpling his cheeks, the prices apparently forgotten.
“Thanks,” I rasp, feeling suddenly sheepish when he keeps the door open for me. No, not for me, I tell myself. He’s just being polite. He’s holding it for Liam too.
“You’re welcome.” His reply comes almost breathy. The look he gives me—the flash of a smile that’s quickly hidden, the rush of color staining his pale cheeks—that’s more than just politeness.
I feel my heart stammering behind my ribs, a breathless sort of lurch flipping in my stomach. The breathlessness tightens when Liam takes my hand, wrapping his fingers around my own with an unmistakable possessiveness that has me ducking my chin, dropping my gaze to shoot him a questioning look.
Liam hardly ever holds my hand in public.
He stares placidly ahead, taking in the cafe with an unaffected coolness as he saunters after Lily, keeping me close beside him. Matty traipses behind, cheerfully sliding into the high-backed booth that Lily finds for us, happy to find himself seated beside Lily.
A waitress arrives at our table moments after we take our seat, as if she’s followed us here from the door.
Then, without waiting for us to answer her mumbled greeting, she places some menus on the table and rattles off the special of the day, a bored smile plastered on her face as she promises to come back when we’re ready.
Lily stares intently at her as she speaks, her gaze lingering on her as she moves from table to table, checking on patrons before slipping back off to the kitchen.
“Do you know her?” Matty asks, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
Lily gives an embarrassed wince and shakes her head.
“Not exactly,” she whispers. She stares at the menu in front of her intently, but I doubt she’s reading anything on it.
“It’s just… I think that was one of the women Tom brought home one time.
You know,” she clears her throat, “when he was living with us.”
Liam goes so tense beside me; I can practically feel his muscles vibrating through our shared booth. Matty stills across from me, his blue eyes going distant.
I wonder if he’s remembering that night too. He saw her, I realize. He was the one who carried Tom out of the house that night, bloodied and beaten after Seth had laid into him. He must have seen her on that bathroom floor, must have seen what Tom was about to do to her.
Anger rises in me, a hot and trembling thing that has my molars grinding.
I’d been angry then too, of course. But I’d been confused, half drunk and standing in the cold and looking between Lily clutched in Seth’s arms and Eddie demanding that I help him and Matty put Tom’s unconscious body in the trunk of Lily’s car.
Since then, I’d been content not to think about Tom at all, happy to erase him from our lives and my own memory.
“Do you think…” Liam releases my hand, leaning across the table with a forced calmness. “Do you think that she…”
Lily shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She frowns, as if doubting her own words, then adds: “I mean, not that I heard. But who knows, right? What if some of them were drugged? How would you even know?”
The table is silent for a long moment as the weight of her question settles over us like lead.
I dare a glance at Liam, but his attention is fixed on the menu, a frown on his face.
I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as me—that we should have done more.
Should have gotten rid of Tom from the start, from the very moment he made Lily uncomfortable.
That we should have seen him for what he was.
I think we did see him for what he was. We just didn’t act.
My mind whirs as the talk turns to what we’re going to order, as we agree on sharing a few pastries from the cabinet instead of ordering the more expensive meals prepared in the kitchen.
It shouldn’t even be a consideration. We shouldn’t be sitting here worrying over the cost of a few mediocre croissants.
Matty shouldn’t be stressing over using his savings to treat us all.
And Tom—he certainly shouldn’t be walking free, somewhere in this world, with his reputation and finances and life still intact.
My lawyer’s email from this morning rushes back to the forefront of my mind, reciting the demands that only hours ago seemed completely impossible. Insurmountable.
They still do. But…
I think about the jealous grasp of Liam’s hand when Matty smiled at me.
That same hand had gripped the back of Matty’s neck and pushed him between Lily’s thighs.
His eyes had flared with desire when I’d touched Matty, when my own hand had skated over Matty’s bare shoulder, when my body had been pressed against his.
And then Matty opens a door for me and gives me a blushing smile and Liam is practically pulling me to his side.
It’s so, so confusing, this thing between us all. I just want to explore it. Slowly. Softly. Without the pressure of legal ultimatums hanging over me.
You have ten business days. A copy will not be sufficient. You will not be appointed as beneficiary until an apostilled, certified original, with translation, has been received. Failure to produce a marriage certificate within that time will result in the estate reverting to your father…
Months ago, when I left Oxford and the comfort of my parents’ financial support, I told myself that money didn’t matter. That I would be perfectly happy with whatever I could make as a ski instructor. That my freedom was worth the discomfort of relative poverty.
And it was, until I had others to think about.
… for clarity, and to answer your question, we recommend whatever marriage contract you enter into be with someone female, not male.
While France does, of course, recognize equality of marriage, it did not do so at the time your grandfather made his Will and Testament.
This means that there could be grounds for your father to contest your appointment as beneficiary should you marry a man rather than a woman, on the basis that your grandfather did not intend marriage in this context to mean marriage with a man.
The marriage must also be a true marriage, and should the marriage dissolve within two years, or should you and your spouse not live together for two years following the marriage, there is a high probability that your father would contest your appointment…
“What can I get for you?” The waitress gives us a thin smile before settling her attention on Lily, the smile becoming a little more genuine. “Or do you need more time?”
Yes , I want to scream. I need more time .
I need to talk to Lily. To Liam. To all of the guys. This decision, it affects all of them.
But Lily most of all.
“No, no, we’re ready,” Lily assures her, then glances to the rest of us for confirmation. I nod, the menu clutched in my fingers so tight the paper crumples.
“Yes,” I rasp. “I’m ready.”
Or at least, I have to be.