Chapter 32
(Willa)
“Knock, knock.” The door to Gav’s office is open, but I don’t want to barge in without his approval. It was his dad’s nurse, Dorothy, who let me in the house.
“Willa, hey,” he greets me from across the room, where he’s waiting for a scanner to finish processing several sheets of his artwork. “What brings you by?”
“I had some time between appointments . . .” Not entirely true. I don’t have an appointment until later this afternoon, but I don’t want Gav to know I made a special trip out here to see him. “So I thought I’d check in since we haven’t had any face time lately. I don’t want you to feel neglected,” I tease him, with a smile.
“No worries. I know you’ve been floating around in a love bubble with Brody the past few days. Your texts have had twice as many heart emojis as usual.” Gav smirks, always amused by my liberal use of the little icons (cute puppy faces, sunflowers, and cupcakes are just a few of my faves). He joked once that I must have a daily quota to meet.
“Yeah, things are going really well on that front.” I could gush like the chocolate waterfall in Willy Wonka’s factory about Brody and how happy I am we’re seeing each other again, but that would be insensitive of me considering what’s going on with Gav and Sloane, or not going on to be more precise. Unless Sloane’s been holding out on me, I’m pretty sure the two of them haven’t spoken at all since, well, you know. “We’re taking it slow, because he’s still going through the divorce process with Justine.”
“I hope he’s not giving her anything, not after the stunt she pulled with the baby. That was so wrong.”
“It was, but I have to admit I feel a bit sorry for her. I think she was just really desperate when that guy, Damon, dumped her. She was all alone, and pregnant, in a strange town. I can understand why she’d want to return to the safety and comfort of her marriage and a wonderful guy like Brody. She did come clean about the baby not being his when he confronted her, so he didn’t have to go through all the drama of a DNA test. I have to give her some credit for that.”
“Very magnanimous of you. How does Brody feel?”
I shrug. “He’s not so forgiving. He doesn’t want to kick Justine while she’s down, so he’s buying out her half of the house, but he wants nothing more to do with her. The good news is that finding out the truth about Justine and why their marriage fell apart has lifted a big weight off Brody’s shoulders. He’s like a new man! Not that I wasn’t extremely fond of the old one, but it’s nice to see him angst-free.”
“That’s great. Really great. I’m happy for you guys,” Gav says distractedly as he gathers up all the scanned papers and returns to his drafting table.
“Whatcha got there?” I point to the pages in his hands.
“The last of the panels for Volume Four. I finished inking everything last night. Now I just need to color these pages in Paintshop.”
“Oooooo, that’s exciting. Can I see?” I hold out my hand.
“Sure.” He gives me the sheets of paper, then takes a seat on his drafting chair.
I eagerly tear through the final pages of the novel, anxious to see how the story ends. “No!” I gasp in dismay when I get to the last panel. “You can’t do this!” I assert, slapping the pages down in front of him. “You can’t kill off Charlatan, just because you’re angry with Sloane.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Why would you think I was angry with Sloane?”
“Uh . . .”
“She told you.” It’s not a question; he already knows the answer.
“Well, she didn’t volunteer the information,” I explain, not wanting him to think she casually gave up all their intimate secrets. “I knew something was wrong the last time I saw the two of you together, and . . . and I kept pushing until–”
“Whatever,” he cuts me off, turning away. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” Yanking open the drawer beneath his drafting table, he busies himself rummaging through some colored pencils.
“Of course, it matters.” I assure him, wrapping my arms around his neck and giving him a hug.
“Not to her.” He reaches up to clutch my hand. “It’s been six days, Willa. Six days, and not a word from her. She’s pretending like it didn’t happen.”
I straighten up and move to stand in front of him, still holding on to his hand. “Things are so crazy for her at work right now. She’s juggling those two big cases and–”
“Don’t make excuses for her,” he says, dropping my hand and standing up. “She could have called; she could have texted; she could have walked the twenty feet over to my house.”
“That works both ways, you know. You could have picked up the phone any time—”
“Fuck that!” he declares, startling me with his vehemence. “I said things to her the other night, things I’ve been holding on to for a long time, things that should have made it very clear to her how I felt.”
“That must have been difficult.” In all the years we’ve been friends, Gav’s never once admitted out loud that he loves Sloane. I wasn’t even sure he knew, although it’s always been painfully obvious to me. He almost married a Sloane clone for gosh sakes! And why did he break off his engagement to Thea? Because Sloane hated her with a passion (jealous!) and Gav feared losing Sloane if he went through with the marriage.
“The wine made it easier,” Gav admits. “And the words were out of my mouth before I had time to really think about it.”
“How did Sloane react?”
He sighs and looks down. “She kissed me,” he tells the chair. “I thought that was her answer, that she was showing me she felt the same way.”
“Maybe she was.”
“No.” Gav lifts his head. “What I thought was the beginning of something has turned out to be the end. I can’t go on deluding myself anymore. There’s no future for Sloane and me.” There’s so much sadness and disappointment in his eyes; my heart breaks for him. It breaks for Sloane, too, because she is screwing up the best relationship she’s ever had. She needs Gav, whether she realizes it or not, and I know she will be devastated if she loses him.
“Gav, please–” I reach out to touch him, but he shakes me off.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It won’t change anything, and I really need to focus on finishing my book right now.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.” I turn to go, feeling bummed that Gav’s so upset and I can’t do anything to help.
“Just so you know, I didn’t kill Charlatan to be vindictive,” Gav says to my back.
“Really?” I spin around. “So, you didn’t take any sadistic pleasure in drawing Charlatan being shot multiple times, then falling to her death in the cold, dark waters of the Pacific?”
“Maybe a little.” He indicates a small amount by bringing his thumb and index finger very close together. “But I swear, it was always my plan to end Volume Four this way, with a shocking cliffhanger.”
“What cliffhanger? Charlatan is dead, like twice over, with all the blood loss from the gunshot wounds and the drowning.”
“Or is she?” Gav raises an eyebrow. “Maybe she’s got the Rankara Red on her.”
“That diamond she lifted off Pyro after the museum explosion?”
“The one that’s purported to have magical healing powers imbued by an African shaman.”
“I’d forgotten about that!” I clap my hands together excitedly. “So, there’s hope for Charlatan after all. She could be brought back to life by the red diamond.”
Gav shrugs. “You’ll have to wait for Volume Five to find out.”
“You’re mean,” I say, chuckling. “Call me later, when you get done with your coloring.”
I leave his office, smiling. Suddenly, I’m feeling much better about the Gav/Sloane situation. If Charlatan can be resurrected from her watery grave, why can’t Gav and Sloane’s relationship? All they need is their own Rankara Red . . . and I just so happen to be wearing underwear with a diamo
nd-shaped print on them today, plus my nails are painted Rose Bowl red! It’s fate! Or some sort of weird cosmic coincidence. Either way, it’s a sign that I’m meant to bring Gav and Sloane back together. Now, I just have to figure out how to work some romance-reviving magic!
* * *
I do my best thinking in fresh air, so I walk over to California Street and hop on the cable car headed west to the Financial District. As the car slowly moves its way up and down hills into the city, I contemplate the Sloane and Gav standoff. I’m convinced that if I could just get the two of them together in a room, everything would be okay. They’d talk, laugh, hug it out, maybe kiss and fall into bed again, where they’d vow to love each other for eternity . . . SIGH It’d be perfect. But how do I make that happen? They’re both so darn stubborn! Gav’s feeling hurt and rejected, so he won’t reach out. And Sloane is just avoiding the whole thing, like it will fix itself, which is very out of character for her. This is the woman who had a banner reading “Audentes fortuna juvat” (Fortune favors the bold) pinned to the wall on her side of our bedroom when we were teenagers. And she’s always taken that old Latin proverb very much to heart, never backing away from any challenge or individual, no matter how intimidating. Until now, anyway.
I think she’s afraid. She has these strong feelings for Gav that were brought to the surface when they slept together and she doesn’t know how to handle them. She’s always been able to treat the men in her life with indifference, because she never let them get close. But Gav’s already close; he’s been close for most of her life. If anyone has a chance of breaking into the strongbox Sloane’s got her heart locked up in, it’s him. She knows that, and I’m sure that knowledge terrifies her. Sloane’s heart was broken once, by our father, and she has done everything in her power to protect herself from being hurt by a man again. I get it. I was right there with her when the truth came out about our father not wanting to be a part of our lives. It was a serious blow to our fragile, prepubescent egos and probably the reason why I’ve always been so eager to be loved. And that eagerness made me blind to the faults of a lot of men who took advantage and didn’t treat me right. Thank goodness I finally found a good guy who deserves my love and respect. Now, I want the same for my sister. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help her find happiness, even if that means being a little sneaky.
The cable car reaches my stop, and I jump down on to the street. I’m still a few blocks from Sloane’s office, so I take off at a brisk pace, enjoying the midday sun on my face and the cool breeze lifting my hair off my shoulders. It doesn’t take me long to reach the building on Main Street where my sister works. I smile and wave at the security guard in the lobby, because I know he’s a friend of Sloane’s. We’ve never met before, and I’m guessing he doesn’t know Sloane has a twin, because he does a double take when he sees me, most likely confused as to why my image-conscious sister is wearing a cute, sailor-style dress with white Keds instead of one of her sleek designer dresses and three-inch, don’t-mess-with-me heels. I receive similar looks of befuddlement when I get up to Sloane’s floor. The receptionist gapes at me for a solid minute, before telling me it’s okay to go back since I already know the way to my sister’s office.
“Hello, hello!” I trill as I walk into her spartan, neutral-colored domain and find her sitting at her desk, crouched over her laptop, with her face all puckered in concentration.
“Willa?” she glances up. “What are you doing here? You never come to the office.” There’s suspicion in her voice.
“Only because it’s not pet-friendly. Last time Cicero and I came by for a visit, the mean, old guard in the lobby wouldn’t let us up, even though I promised to carry Cicero the whole time we were in the building. It was very upsetting to encounter that kind of canine prejudice. But I don’t have Cicero with me today, and the new guard downstairs seems much nicer. I was hoping you could take a little break, and we could go out and grab a bite for lunch.”
Sloane frowns. “Sorry, but I don’t have time. The Blythe Summers trial starts next week and have a huge amount of prep work to do.”
I stick out my lower lip and make a show of being pouty.
“I suppose, if you don’t mind sharing a sandwich here at my desk, I can split the turkey club Carly brought back from The Grove for me.”
“A turkey club?” I crinkle my nose with distaste.
“I’ll take the bacon off your half,” Sloane offers, rising up out of her chair. She knows I won’t eat anything I might be able to communicate with. Poultry and fish are okay. Pork that comes from cute piggies – never!
“Can I have regular yellow mustard, instead of the spicy brown you like?”
“Anything else, princess?” she retorts.
“Sun chips would be nice, or pretzels.” I give her my pretty-please smile.
She sighs. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up in the break room.”
As soon as Sloane’s gone, I reach across the desk and grab her iPhone, which I noticed sticking out from beneath a stack of papers earlier. I hope I’ve bought myself some time with my ridiculously picky lunch order, but I still need to make this fast so that Sloane doesn’t catch me in the act of meddling. I quickly type up the text message: “Sorry I’ve been incommunicado. Working like a dog!” I resist the impulse to insert an emoji with a smiley sticking its tongue out, and I delete the exclamation point as those are two things my sister would never put in a text. Now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn’t reference dogs either as that might be a giveaway that I’m the one writing this message. Okay, try again.
“Sorry I’ve been incommunicado. Been working crazy hours. Would really like to talk. Come over tonight?” And SEND.
I pace back and forth next to Sloane’s desk, with the phone clutched in my hand, waiting for Gav to respond. Every tenth step or so, I lift up the phone and check the time. One minute passes. Two. Three. Geez louise, what is Gav doing? I can’t believe he’s so mad that he would ignore Sloane like this. She’s going to be back with our lunch any second and she’ll have a fit if she finds out I’ve been committing text fraud. The cell phones buzzes, and I squeak with surprise, almost dropping it. I look down to read the incoming message.
“Be there at nine.”
PHEW Okay, good. Gav was just making her sweat a little before replying. Can’t really blame him for that. What’s important is that he’s willing to set his hurt feelings aside and meet with her. I delete Gav’s text and the one “Sloane” sent so that there’s no proof of my crime, then stealthily slide the phone back under–
“The best I could do with the chips–”
Starting at the sound of Sloane’s voice, my hand slips on her glass desktop and a bunch of her neatly arranged papers go flying.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Sorry, sorry, I-I-I lost my balance,” I stammer out a lame apology, then duck down to pick up the scattered pages so that she won’t see the guilt written all over my face. My heart’s beating a mile a minute. Clearly, I wasn’t cut out for covert operations. At least I got her phone back to the right spot on her desk.
“Oh, just leave it,” she says wearily, stepping around me. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
And I feel like I’m going to vomit. Did I do the right thing, contacting Gav and arranging for a meeting without Sloane’s consent? What if things go horribly wrong tonight? It would be entirely my fault, and they’d both be super mad at me, and all our relationships would be irrevocably dam– No! I have to think positively. This will work. Sloane and Gav will make up, or make out, whatever, and they’ll thank me for facilitating their reconciliation. Happy endings for everyone! I hope. I pray. And maybe I’ll drop by my client Tina’s house later and rub her pet rabbit’s foot, because a little good luck couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 33
(Sloane)
I’m sitting at the dining room table, paying bills online, eating stale Pepperidge Farm Goldfish out of the bag when I hear a knock on the front door. I frown
, because I have no idea who it could be and I’m not really in the mood for visitors. I could ignore the knock, but I’ve got all the lights on downstairs, which is a dead giveaway that I’m home.
Another knock. Geez, give a girl some time to get to the door! Maybe I’m in the bathroom, or pulling a soufflé out of the oven. Ha! Like I’d ever make a soufflé; I don’t even have a mixer, or a soufflé dish, or eggs, or milk, or butter . . . I really need to go to the store, don’t I?
As I walk out to the front hallway, I do my best to brush some of the cheese and salt grit off my hands. Goldfish are so damn messy! My hands are still schmutzy when I attempt to unlock the front door and it takes me twice as long as usual to complete the task, because my fingers can’t seem to get a grip on the deadbolt, then they slip off the door knob every time I try to grab it. Finally, using the cuff of my blouse to give me some traction, I’m able to pull the door open and that’s when I find a grim-faced Gav standing on the stoop, his hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets.
“I’m here,” he announces flatly.
“I can see that.” And I have to admit I’m relieved. Gav and I have never gone six whole days with no communication before. Seventy-two hours was the previous record for one of our freeze-outs, and at the time I thought our friendship was over, because it was the worst of our fights about The Evil One and I sort of gave him an ultimatum, which didn’t go over very well (Gav’s one of those annoying guys who balks at being told what to do by a woman, even when she clearly knows best and has a compelling list of reasons why he should listen to her.) It was Willa who later informed me that Gav and Thea had called off their wedding by mutual consent (Yeah, right, he totally dumped her.) Gav showed up at my door the next day, with two large pieces of cardboard, and asked if I wanted to go to Seward Street and ride down the crazy steep concrete slides with him (one of our favorite pastimes when we were adventure-seeking teens). My answer was, of course, “Hell, yeah!” and that was the end of our friendship crisis. Wonder what kind of olive branch he’s going to extend this time?
Twin Piques Page 32