Page 56 of All For You

“Yes, thank you, you’ve made your point,” I said.

He glanced at his laptop, seeming keen to get back to it. Curious, I peered closer to see what he was reading. It was a news article, but from a regional newspaper. A tall, willowy blonde holding a framed award stood amid a crowd of young children in school uniforms.

“Jane?” I asked.

“Yes. It says here she won an award for raising money for healthier lunches for underserved kids. Grows fruit and veg at the school to supplement the lunches too. Started with her own class, and now it’s countywide.”

I quickly read the article over his shoulder. Universal meals were served in all schools, but in her state school, she’d shown the ingredients were stodgy and overcooked and lacking in freshness. It had been a long campaign—years, starting when she’d been a student teacher, before she’d become a model. She’d even lobbied Parliament.

I took in her photo. She was bending over, talking to one of the kids, turned away with a shy smile, honestly like someone who’d have preferred not to be in the photo. The award was supposed to be in her name, but she’d insisted it was a collective “Staff of…”

God. Maybe Ihadmisjudged her. This wasn’t the work of a social climber, someone focused on marrying a man like Wills for his money and influence, not that I’d ever been certain. I had firmly wondered. This was the long-term work of someonewho cared, but also a woman who wasn’t doing the work for accolades.

“Shit, this is impressive.” I stood upright, something inside me shifting about how I’d viewed Jane.

Had I shallowly judged her on the way she’d looked and acted? Did she have hidden depths I hadn’t given her credit for? Maybe she wasn’t after Wills’s money and status, and he hadn’t needed to worry about that? Maybe I should encourage Wills to reach out to her, test the waters. He’d be relieved and happy.

After all, I’d only suggested he take his time getting to know her.

“Maybe you should write and congratulate her,” I suggested.

He let out an angry breath without looking at me. “What’s the point? I’m the last person she wants to hear from. I don’t want to ruin her big day.”

My heart twisted at his despair. Why did I feel responsible for Wills feeling hopeless? I’d been protecting him, and he’d made his own choice. Sure, he did value my opinion… Maybe I should push this further, apologize and encourage him more strongly to contact her. But then, we didn’t know for sure who the real Jane was, and I couldn’t make up his mind for him.

Wills shifted back to me. “You’re trying to take care of me, and you’re using it as an excuse not to look after yourself. Look at all we have.” He swept a hand around his room and the vast view. “Look at the people we meet. We never know if they like us or they like what we have. Lizzy doesn’t care about this stuff. You’ll never meet anyone as genuine and right for you. So many men would be lucky to have her. The same with you. The difference is, you won’t be certain of their motivation. With Lizzy, you know she likes you for yourself.”

My chest ached. I’d messed up my chance with her. Eventually, I gathered myself. “See you at work. I’m going to walk in.”

Wills grunted back to me, turned and clicked out of the article.

I was strangely wound up and yet exhausted. Even though I hadn’t had breakfast, I changed into my gym clothes, grabbed a thermos of coffee, folded my suit into my gym bag, and thudded down the stairway to the embankment to walk to our development in the west of London, about ninety minutes away.

It was a dull day as I trudged through St James’s Park. The leaves were turning to colors, but some had already fallen off the trees, brown and slimy underfoot. The old buildings were starker through the bare branches. In the Cotswolds, the colors would be brighter against a clear sky. My mind was dark and murky.

I thought I’d only encouraged Wills to take it slow. He’d read my advice as something much stronger. Did my brother put that much stock in my opinions? I wrestled with that all the way into work. By the time I’d had a shower and changed and sat down in my office chair, my head pounded.

I arrived to a note on my desk. Our biggest donor, Joe Walsh. After seeing the shorts of Sunday afternoon of Lizzy and me arguing, he’d pulled his donation to the clubhouse.

“Please stop calling Joe,” numbers

his assistant had messaged. I worked through my day, miserable, making calls trying to persuade other friends to replace that sizable donation, but no luck. I couldn’t take profits from Pemberley because of how my parents had set up the trust. And the bulk of my money was tied up in West City. How could I get that much cash quickly? I couldn’t halt construction—that wasn’t an option.

I strode up and down my office restlessly, glancing out over my views, the best in West City. I tried to draw some pride from what we’d created on what was once a scrappy piece of land—shops, restaurants, apartments, gyms, and swimming poolsunder one roof, all surrounded by beautiful, mature trees we’d landscaped in. But since we’d gotten back from the Amor Inn, the only thing I’d looked forward to was walking across to the temporary clubhouse and organizing kids in a soccer game.

I headed for the middle-schooler room located in the makeshift portable. They always seemed the keenest for a soccer game.

“Here’s Mr. Mint,” Otis said. He always had a quick joke and had emerged as the leader of the boys. “Hello, old moneybags, how much dosh you make today?”

I grinned. “Hey, not so much of the old. I’m only thirty-five.”

“That’s old, man. My mother’s younger than you. By the way, how many sprogs have you got? I never hear you talk about your kids.”

“None. No kids.”

“My mum already has three kids. You better get cracking on. What about a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A sharp knife twisted under my ribs. “Nope.”