The Good Kind of Bad (34 page)

When my phone chimed on the desk, I jumped like I’d been stuck with a cattle prod.

Shall I order in Chinese tonight? Chow Mein from Wan’s Garden okay? x

It was Evan. He never forgot the kiss.

As Nina’s laughter rang out through the workspace, her mission to make me jealous and feel like crap was succeeding.

‘Don’t you like it or something?’ Evan asked later that evening at the dinner table from behind his Clark Kent glasses, back in his CMP T-shirt.

I pushed the food over my plate with my fork, suspiciously examining the reformed chunks of chicken. ‘It’s great,’ I lied.

‘I’ve been going to the Garden for years. Don’t be dissing Wan, you hear me?’

I took a sideways glance at his smile. ‘You’re in a better mood.’

‘It’s been a bad month, right? Thought it was time to start smiling again; especially now you’re here.’

Evan sure knew how to make me feel uncomfortable. I’d made a distinct attempt
not
to dress up for him, currently in my favourite grey yoga pants and white MiMo vest. Shedding my binding work clothes each evening and scraping my hair into a low bun or ponytail, I was mastering the art of make-up free lounge chic.

Managing a small piece of chicken, I decided to change the subject, and drastically. ‘So . . . when did you move to Chicago?’ Addressing his puzzled expression, I explained, ‘We’re having Chinese, I’m asking you about yourself . . . it’s what normal people do.’

‘Oh yeah, normal. I hear it’s nice there,’ he quipped.

I needed one night without Joe, the police or Mickey making an appearance.
I
needed normal.

‘I’m from Staten Island, originally. Must’ve moved here . . . twenty years ago?’

That I
wasn’t
expecting. ‘Twenty years?’

An uncomfortable pause descended as Evan’s eyes turned glassy.

‘Evan, you okay?’

‘Ah, I was just thinking about my parents. My mom, mostly.’

‘Do you see them often?’

‘They’re dead.’

Way to put my foot in it. ‘I’m sorry,’ I offered, gently.

‘About my mom, yeah. But my dad? No one should apologise for him.’

‘Why not?’

Evan cleared his throat, removing his glasses and examining the frames before replacing them. ‘He was a degenerate alcoholic who married the first gold digger that came a knockin’. She took my inheritance and banned me from the funeral. You want another prawn cracker?’

I had a million more questions for him, and was about to begin probing when there was a knock at the front door. No buzzer, just the knock. There it was again.

‘You expecting anybody?’ I asked.

Evan shook his head.

I put a hand to my cheek. ‘Don’t answer it. Maybe they’ll leave.’

‘Don’t answer it? Honey, I’ll bet my whisky collection it’s not the dangerous trench coat man. And if it is? I’ve got an AK-47 in the safe.’ He’d already said my picture was in the dictionary under
paranoid
.

With what I hoped was a joke, he left the table and strode out of the lounge. Following him down the hall, hoping to persuade him to sit back down, he was already checking the spy hole in the front door.

‘Who is it?’ I hissed from behind.

‘Some guy in a suit? Before you ask, he’s not wearing a trench coat.’

‘That’s not funny, Evan,’ I wavered.

‘It was worth a shot.’

‘Oh, is this 314 West Superior? Apartment 29?’ our visitor began, after Evan opened the door.

Evan stood with his hand on his hip, half hiding the caller. ‘Yeah, and you are?’

‘Will Edelmann. I’m looking for . . .’

‘Will?’

‘You know this guy?’ Evan asked, glaring back at me. ‘This guy who’s here, at
my
house?’

If I knew the man at the door, Evan’s door, then it meant one thing. I’d let slip my new address.

Will’s waves were chopped shorter than I remembered. He sported a dark grey tailored suit with matching waistcoat, one I didn’t recognise. Reaching down, he straightened an already pristine ice blue tie – again, a new purchase. He looked like a wedding guest, at a wedding that never happened.

‘Wait a minute, Will? As in Will, your ex-fiancé?’ Evan continued.

‘That’s me, and you must be Joe. William Edelmann, a pleasure to meet you.’

Evan shook Will’s extended hand hesitantly as I rushed over to the door, staring at Evan, my alarmed expression reflected in his.

‘Don’t worry, I know everything,’ Will exclaimed in his best attempt at blasé. ‘Your father told me you’d married Joe here, though I’d already heard the rumours. Were you really in that
Superman
film?’

‘
Superman
? What the—’

‘How did you find me here?’ I interrupted, more than alarmed Will had mistaken Evan for Joe.

With arms crossed, Evan peered contemptuously over his glasses at my former fiancé. Of course Will thought Evan was Joe. As far as everyone back home knew, Joe still had air in his lungs. We were still husband and wife, living out our exciting lives in the big city.

‘Your father told me you were staying at the Four Seasons, temporarily, but they directed me here.’ He produced a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket while Evan shot me a poisonous stare.

‘Do you want to come in?’ I asked.

Evan shook his head vehemently and mouthed a silent
no
, but I shrugged. We didn’t have much choice. However bizarre and dangerous the situation, I couldn’t turn him away. Will had travelled thousands of miles to stand on what he thought was my doorstep, plus calling Evan ‘Joe’ in the exposed corridor was far from ideal.

Will accepted the invitation with a smile, swiftly entering the apartment with a reluctant grunt from Evan.

‘
Joe
will show you to the lounge while I make us some coffee. Isn’t that right, darling?’

Evan narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Of course,
honey
.’

After Evan reluctantly showed Will to his seat, and before I left to fetch some refreshments, the looks of disdain glared out from them both. You could’ve cut the atmosphere with a flick knife.

Arriving back with the drinks a few minutes later, I stopped short of the doorway, surprised to hear them in conversation.

‘Your last name’s Petrozzi, isn’t it?’ Will asked.

‘That’s right.’

‘You’re not how I pictured you. You’re handsome, of course, you’d have to be if she married you after three weeks. I waited five years and . . . nevertheless,’ Will said, clearing his throat. ‘Howard described you somewhat differently. I’m not being rude—’

‘Oh, I’m sure you’re not,’ Evan retaliated, appearing almost offended on Joe’s behalf.

‘I just expected you to look
Italian
, not that I’m typecasting,’ Will commented crudely, indicating Evan’s mess of blond hair.

‘Adopted.’

‘Right.’

More silence.

‘Here you are.’ With a faux cough, I announced my entrance with the tray of drinks.

They both shuffled awkwardly over their seats before I handed Will the tea.

Taking the seat next to Evan, I gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs before nodding at the table. ‘Perhaps you should clear away dinner, Joe?’ If three was a crowd, Evan certainly didn’t get the hint straight away, unwilling to leave me with our unexpected guest. Begrudgingly, he made his excuses and gathered up the plates, probably to then go and eavesdrop from the study.

‘Did I interrupt your meal?’ Will asked.

‘I wasn’t that hungry anyway.’

He glanced down into the cup. ‘You still know how to make a great cup of tea. I’ve missed that.’

‘Will, what are you doing here?’

His smile didn’t last the duration, his gaze still on the tea. He’d travelled over an ocean to sit beside me and now couldn’t look me in the eye.

‘I asked myself why I wanted to come a thousand times. I know. I know I have to move on and I think I have, but first I had to see.’

I rested my folded arms on the tops of my knees. ‘See what?’

‘See what you chose instead of me? Nice apartment, nice husband, nice life.’

We’d had a
nice
apartment back in London. Stucco-fronted row houses, Knightsbridge a stone’s throw away . . . back there, and back together, we’d had so much more, and yet? We’d had nothing at all.

‘It wasn’t about choosing, and it wasn’t your fault I left. I couldn’t do it anymore, Will. You must have known. I was suffocating. Your sisters were unbearable, fussing over table flowers and the bloody string quartet, and not to mention your mother . . .’

‘It’s all right, you don’t have to say it,’ he added curtly.

There was a stranger in Will’s place. The face I’d seen a thousand times had been forgotten, one I’d watch mature over the last five years, the boy now the man I’d shared everything with. We’d been hours away from holy matrimony and now could barely sit in the same room together. He was a man I’d once sat next to on a train, a face I’d struggle to pick out of a crowd. He was from before everything else, from a life and a girl I no longer knew.

‘I’m sorry, I am. I nearly phoned so many times, but things happened. Life happened. Everything is here with Ev . . . with Joe now. It’s over, Will. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to accept that.’ I straightened my back and glanced towards the door.

Will set down the cup and saucer and checked his Rolex, the gift I should’ve bought if only I’d known him better. ‘I never should have come. I knew it’d be a mistake.’ He gathered up his bag and moved off the sofa. ‘Thanks for the tea, but it’s best I leave.’

‘No, Will . . .’

‘I did have a speech planned, about how you left me waiting for you, waiting in that church while I thought you’d had another episode. Even after everything you’ve done, I thought maybe we could forget, move on . . . but it looks like I’ve not crossed your mind once. Looks like I don’t need those words now.’

It’d changed him. My actions had created a harder Will, toughened and worn down by life. It was something I’d selfishly never considered; now I saw Will Version 2.0 before me, sipping the tea in a stranger’s house. He’d gone through hell, a hell I’d created, but the old Will would’ve never stood up to me, never would have told me how he felt. I knew. He was better, much better off without
me
.

I had to put Will first. He thought there was a chance for us, somewhere in the future, but I had to protect him, from me and that daydream, and for his own good. I had to reject him, again, to ensure he never came calling and fully opened himself to other possibilities, other lives. He could meet a nice girl, in London, one whose life wasn’t sullied by violence and murder and hate. He had to forget me, so he was saved. Saved from what could ruin him, like it almost had me.

‘Will, you need to move on, like I have. Meet someone else. Get married. Forget me, because I’ve forgotten you.’

Each word felt like a wasp barb, stinging my tongue and lacing the letters with venom. Will’s face turned grey, his lip dropped and his hands clenched and unclenched, the way they used to when he’d tell me not to argue, that we shouldn’t fight because it wasn’t good for us. So I couldn’t tell him I wanted to leave. There were still glimpses of the old Will, hints around the edges, but after gulping down my attack, his shoulders relaxed and the colour returned. On standing, it was like he’d shed his second skin, and was taller and wiser for it.

‘Good luck with your life. I mean it,’ he said.

Will turned for the door, where Evan stood waiting for him. God knows how long he’d been there.

‘Have a nice flight,’ Evan taunted as Will and his man-bag struggled past into the hall.

As the tears pricked my eyelids, I willed him to turn around, but Will didn’t look back.

Once Will had gone, Evan turned to me and turned on the charm. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘You think
I
invited him?’

‘I don’t know what to think! What was the deal with inviting him in? What was with calling me Joe?’

I put both palms to my eyes, forcing my tears for Will back inside. ‘No one has Joe’s photo. At least if Will thinks you’re my husband . . . Joe is alive, according to Will.’ It was a stupid plan, but better than no plan at all.

‘I don’t even look like Joe! I don’t like it. Who travels halfway across the world to see someone for five minutes?’

‘Maybe he was already in the city, I don’t know. He’s obviously finding it hard to let go. I did leave him at the altar. Maybe he needs closure. He’s on his way back to the airport, I’m sure.’ I sniffed. My heart had just broken all over again.

Evan paced the lounge for at least a minute, shooting me the odd glare.

‘Nice touch leaving a forwarding address at the hotel, too. What did I say about my address?’