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  We line the three different brands of pregnancy tests along the breakfast bar. Fortunately, Amy’s left for the day. I read the boxes as Amanda concentrates on breathing and sipping her water on a stool. This is alien to me. Some test within hours, some within a day, the pale blue boxed test takes a week for an accurate result.

  “I assume this means a week from conception, rather than having to hold the pee stick for a week?” I internally laugh at my own joke but it doesn’t seem to register with Amanda. She continues to stare into the distance over the rim of her glass, oblivious to the fact her hand is gently cupping her stomach.

  “Are you ready?” I ask. “They seem straightforward. Pee on the stick and wait.”

  “I can’t, Scarlett. I can’t do it. What if I am pregnant? Pops would kill me.”

  “Amanda, if you’re pregnant, your dad won’t kill you. In any event, you’re a grown woman, he really has no say in things.”

  She flips her head to look at me. “No say in whether I keep it, you mean?”

  “Amanda, that’s not what I said. We don’t even know whether you’re pregnant. Come on.” I scoop up the three sticks, leaving the confusing boxes and instructions behind, and hold out my hand, guiding her across the lounge to the downstairs bathroom.

  I look around the room, remembering the violence that took place in here just over two weeks ago. The mirror that was broken and used by Pearson to stab Gregory has been replaced. Everything looks normal. I shake away the thoughts of that night as I close the door behind us. “Okay, you need to control your pee, don’t blurt it all out in one go. You need to trickle and swap these in and out.”

  She sighs, lifts up her dress, pulls her black thong to her knees and sits down on the seat. “I’ve got stage fright,” she says, looking down between her legs as if it might encourage the stream.

  “Amanda, you’ve taken a pee with me a thousand times, just do it. Here.” I wave the first test at her, then the second and the third.

  “Done.” She holds the wet sticks out for me to take.

  “You are joking. There’s no way I’m touching those things. Sharing a bathroom is one thing. Fondling your pee sticks is a whole other level.”

  She laughs. It’s a nervous laugh but it’s a laugh nonetheless and I’ll take anything to lighten the tension. She lies the sticks face up on the marble sink and washes her hands.

  “Right. So now we just wait?” she asks.

  “Yep.” I lift myself up to sit on the marble unit next to the sticks and Amanda lowers the lid on the toilet seat then perches herself on top.

  All our years of knowing each other and I can’t think of a thing to say. I bounce my foot anxiously and cross and uncross my legs as the seconds tick by.

  “I know you must be wondering,” Amanda says, staring at the marble floor tiles.

  “I’m not.” I am.

  “If I am pregnant, I do know who the father is.” She lifts her head now to look at me.

  “Williams.”

  She nods subtly then looks at her watch. Ten seconds. We both move to stand in front of the tests, staring as the marks appear.

  “What do they mean? Scarlett, what do they mean?”

  I stare at the developed lines. All three sticks in agreement. Then I turn to look at my wide-eyed friend. “You’re pregnant.”

  She steps back and drops down to the lid of the toilet. “Holy shit!”

  We exhale in unison. Then she speaks again. “Holy shit!” Her eyes lock on a spot on the floor. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

  “You’re going to have to learn to control your potty mouth.”

  She looks up at me and we both laugh but her face contorts and her laughter turns to tears. For the second time today, I find myself grabbing tissues for my best friend. I hunker down in front of her, bracing myself with my hands on her knees. “It’s going to be fine. Really. You’ll be such a fabulous mummy.”

  Her shoulders chug on a sob but she pulls back her tissue to reveal the slightest upturn of her lips. “You think so?” she sniffs.

  “Are you kidding? A little red-haired girl in a pretty two piece and tiny little princess heels, following you around for babyccinos. I know so.”

  I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest until I feel her lungs return to steady breaths.

  “How about I make us a nice cup of tea?” Taking the tissues from her hand, I dab away her running mascara.

  She nods. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I leave the bathroom smiling. I haven’t only convinced Amanda, I’ve also convinced myself that she can do this. She can be a great mum and Williams will stand by her, he’s a good man.

  “Gregory!”

  His face is possibly paler than Amanda’s shocked, already fair, skin. His grey blazer and tie have been cast over a stool. His white shirt is unbuttoned so just a few rogue hairs are on display and his sleeves are rolled back up his forearms. His eyes are wild as he holds up an empty pregnancy test box. My head is telling my mouth to speak but no words are forming. I want to tell him they aren’t mine but there’s a small devil on my shoulder wondering how he’ll react, wondering how he’d feel about forever.

  “What the fuck is this, Scarlett?” His voice is a notch below a shout but his fury is obvious. I have my answer.

  A million thoughts race through my mind as my mouth opens and closes silently. He visits children in the paediatrics unit of a local hospital every quarter and he supports the children’s charity, Dreams. I’ve seen him with the children, happy, playful. His reaction isn’t about children, it’s about him being trapped with me.

  “Fucking hell, Scarlett! You told me you were on the pill!”

  “I am on the pill.”

  He throws the box on the breakfast bar and thrusts a hand into his hair. “You haven’t had a period since we’ve been together.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You haven’t. You haven’t bled in two months.”

  “Are you accusing me of something, Gregory? Because if you are, you’d better just come right out and fucking say it.”

  “Well, are you on the pill, Scarlett?”

  “Yes, I’m on the pill. I don’t bleed with my pill you arrogant arsehole. As if I’d try to get myself pregnant. That’s what you’re accusing me of, isn’t it? Trying to trap the billionaire! Well, news fucking flash, Gregory, I’m not trying to tie you into something you clearly don’t want. I don’t love you for your money and the way you’re behaving right now makes me wonder why I love you at all!” I bite the inside of my gums and remember that we aren’t here alone. “Does the thought of forever with me really terrify you this much?” My entire body trembles with anger and a shattering pain in my abdomen.

  The toilet is flushed and the bathroom lock jiggled—Amanda’s warning. I stare at Gregory, unwilling to be the first to break. But his eyes flick over my shoulder as the bathroom door opens.

  “Amanda.” His voice is barely audible. I watch the transformation as his jaw unlocks and his wide eyes turn apologetic. He drops his hands to his hips and walks to the window.

  “Let’s take a rain check on the tea,” Amanda says quietly, kissing me on the cheek.

  “Please, Amanda, stay,” Gregory says, turning from the window, looking much more composed. “You don’t have to leave because of me.”

  She smiles fleetingly at him and I love her for the effort, especially when his little performance has probably terrified her. “I have a few calls to make, I should be going.”

  “Williams won’t react like that, Amanda,” I whisper, stroking her arm. “He won’t.”

  She feigns a smile. “Thanks, for today, tonight, everything.” She pulls me into an Amanda bear hug and leaves.

  “Amanda,” Gregory calls, grabbing his blazer from the breakfast bar, “let me ta
ke you home.”

  He leaves her little choice, already across the lounge and holding the door open for her.

  * * *

  After showering, I choose a spare room and slip under the covers of the double bed. Despite the early hour, I find myself drifting off to sleep when the door opens and light from the landing creeps into the room.

  “Scarlett?”

  I keep my eyes closed, being careful not to over squeeze them and make it obvious that I’m awake. The bed dips as his weight rests down on the opposite side to mine. I feel him move close to me, checking whether I’m asleep. Satisfied, he pulls the duvet higher up my arm and presses his lips to my temple. As he lingers against my skin, I breathe in his familiar scent, Dolce and Gabana One.

  He sits up but doesn’t leave the bed. “I’m screwing this up more than I could’ve even imagined. I’m not afraid of forever. I’m afraid of doing to you what I’ve done to everyone I’ve ever really cared about. Hurting you. Failing to protect you, like I already have.” He sighs. “A baby just like you would be incredible. Your perfect nose, those soft red lips, your sparkling green eyes, so bright and full of life. A little girl with your mind, even your sassy attitude. But you don’t want that with me, Scarlett. Not really. Another little person for me to mess up. You were right on Saturday. I just need to make you see that.”

  He leans in and presses his lips to my temple again. “Aurora,” he whispers before his weight lifts from the mattress.

  “Gregory.”

  “Yes, baby?”

  I speak without moving to face him. “I don’t know how much more I can take. You pick me up, take me higher than I’ve ever felt. Then you break my heart, you break me and I just don’t know if I can keep crawling back to my feet.”

  “I know.” He sighs. “I’m going to stop hurting you. I promise.”

  “Gregory, if the CPS decides to charge you, I’m telling the truth.”

  If we break, the last thing I’ll do is make sure you’re free. The thought kills me but it’s a real possibility and I need to start recognising it. I squeeze my eyes shut and will my mind to clear. The truth can set him free, finally.

  Chapter Twenty

  QC John Harrison called late morning to say the new ballistics report is back. The findings are broadly the same, the shot was taken at a distance, but there are new anomalies. The CPS decision is going to come this afternoon. I put in a last minute half day of leave, although I might as well have put in a full day for the amount of work I got through this morning. I packed up my things on the stroke of twelve thirty and now I’m sitting in the back of the Mercedes as Jackson drives us to the Shard, the tightness in my chest and the throb in my head more prevalent than ever.

  This is it. Today is the day I pay for what I’ve done. Retribution for my vengeance, Gregory’s vengeance. Punishment for letting my desire for Gregory talk me into a hostile takeover and everything it brought on my father and my friends. Whilst it’s scary as hell and I’ve got no idea what my future will hold beyond today, I have a sense of rightness, a sense that I’m about to do the right thing. That’s who I am, plain, black-and-white Scarlett Heath. And whatever comes, I’ll accept it knowing that Gregory is alive and that he’ll finally be free.

  The CPS will make its decision and Gregory will understand that, despite his best efforts—efforts that I’m truly grateful for—he couldn’t protect me from this fate. He won’t be punished for a crime I committed. He might never rid himself of his demons, he’s already spent thirty years trying to do that, but he won’t sit in a prison cell replaying that night over and over again for the next twenty-five years of his life.

  After a brief exchange of pleasantries and congratulations for the engagement on my part, Jackson slipped into the driver seat in silence and we’ve driven through the city that way. His eyes remain firmly on the road, not casting a glance at me in the rear view mirror like he usually does, not looking for conversation. He drives with one hand on the gear stick, his other elbow rests on the window frame, his fingers pressing against his temple, a rare display of stress. He cares for Gregory, I think more than he’s comfortable showing.

  People move through the grey streets, mobiles to ears, hands in the pockets of winter coats, some eating lunch on the move, some walking with purpose, ring-bound files in hand. I take it all in, absorbing the colours, the buildings, the way people move. I have the same sense of surrealism that I had the day of my father’s funeral. As Sandy and I rode behind the hearse, life altered, changed irrevocably, yet people on the streets were oblivious, going about their business as if the world hadn’t slipped into a different realm, a darker reality. And now, whilst I accept that today could be my last day of freedom, they don’t look on or stop to stare. It’s like nothing’s changed, as if tonight Gregory won’t be charged for murder then freed by my confession and tomorrow I won’t be sitting behind bars, the public protected from my vengeful actions.

  But Gregory will be free. And before I go to the station and make my statement, I’ll tell him that he has to move on. Not from me, that much will be simple. But he has to take a chance on the next woman who falls in love with him. He has to accept that it is possible for someone to love him, all of him, messed up, dark and all. Otherwise, it’ll all have been for nothing. Saving the little boy I see in my dreams, worthless.

  “Hi,” I say when I open the door.

  Gregory leans forward on the breakfast bar, resting his two large hands on either side of the worktop. He’s already removed his tie, my favourite tie, the one he wore the first time I saw him. The same crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck and the same navy suit rests perfectly on his broad, toned body, the way it did that first day in the boardroom. A rogue hair hangs across one eye as he looks up to me—a sign his fingers have been pulled through his hair more than once. He looks tired and troubled but those mesmerising brown pools still make my heart pound and my abdomen pull taut.

  “Tell me you’ve changed your mind.” His voice is hoarse, desperate. “Please, Scarlett.”

  I don’t answer at first. I stare, lost in his soul, drinking him in. I want to remember every beautiful inch of his skin, the way he holds himself, the way he makes me feel when he looks at me, and the way my chest ignites.

  “I haven’t,” I say and watch his head drop forward. “I don’t need you to like it, or accept it, but I do need you to respect my decision. This is the right thing to do, Gregory.”

  “I don’t like it and I don’t accept that it’s the right thing to do. You know I never will. But I will always respect you, Scarlett.”

  I nod silently and make my way to the staircase.

  “But promise me one thing,” he says.

  “What?”

  “If the decision is no charge, you’ll accept it, you’ll accept that the decision is ours. That we did the right thing. And you’ll move on.”

  Tonight we’re done, either way. I sigh. “We need to prepare ourselves for—”

  “Just promise me, Scarlett, please.”

  “I promise.”

  I don’t change from my black pencil dress. I don’t know what’s appropriate to wear when you get arrested but as ridiculous as it seems, I want to look smart. I want the confidence that these clothes give me. I need the confidence, the strength to follow through on my convictions, no matter the consequences. I drop to my knees in the walk-in wardrobe and for the first time, I ask my father for strength. He’ll know I’m finally putting right my wrong and I need him to look in on me and take my next steps with me, to carry me wherever I need to go. I know that I was right to take that shot. I know because I saved Gregory, I saved the little boy from my dreams and one day, I hope I’ll have saved the man I love, truly, in every way he needs to be saved. But the black streak in me that took that shot in revenge—

  revenge for my father, revenge for the deep root
ed pain I know Gregory harbours inside him—my father wouldn’t approve of that. That’s why the decision will be to charge Gregory, and later tonight, me.

  When I’m done, I take an overnight bag from the top shelf of one of the wardrobes, the same bag Gregory packed when we went to the hunt. It’s hard to plan for the unknown but I place leggings, jeans, a T-shirt and two jumpers into the bag. Then I rummage through my underwear for cottons, plain, appropriate for a prison cell.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He leans against the doorframe, watching me pack. “I thought I’d put some things together. I want to be ready to go to the police station. If I wait...I can’t wait. It has to be straight away.”

  “Scarlett, please, I’m begging you not to do this.”

  I can’t look at him because I can’t see those wide, pleading eyes. My conviction is spent on going through with my decision, I don’t have a reserve to deny Gregory. “I need you to leave me to do this.”

  He leaves and I finish the bag, adding a toothbrush, toothpaste and face wipes. When the bag is packed, I zip it up and slump to the floor with it in my lap, suddenly exhausted.

  Now we wait.

  Time passes by, slowly but surely the minute arm of my watch moves clockwise until my legs find the strength to make my way downstairs with my bag in tow. The hallway is dark with the early night sky, the soft blue floor lighting guiding me to the staircase. I turn to take in the spot on the floor where Gregory made love to me, wild and delicious. Then murmuring voices draw my attention. At the bottom of the staircase, I leave my bag and walk into the open lounge, the floor heating warm under my stocking covered feet.

  Lara stands in the window, Lawrence leaning back in the chair closest to her. Sandy and Jackson hold hands on the sofa. Williams sits on a stool a little further out of the group at the breakfast bar.