Chapter 4

Edward's POV

The city bled neon through the rain, streaks of red and gold bending across the windshield. My wipers fought to keep up, the unfaltering thud-thud-thud matching the hum of the engine beneath me.

Alicia hadn't answered when I called.

I didn't call again.

She was emotional. That was her way. She'd calm down. She always did.

The road gleamed black ahead of me, slick under the tires. The storm had swallowed the skyline, rain running down the glass like the city itself was melting.

Lucy's voice replayed in my head, smooth and certain.

"We didn't get to talk at the gala," she'd said. "Meet me tonight."

Not a request. An expectation.

That was Lucy.

She'd been gone for years when I came back from the UK, where I'd studied before stepping into my father's company. She glided between continents like it cost her nothing, her name splashed across glossy magazines next to men with too much money and too much time. Now she was back, walking into the gala like she owned the place. Like nothing had changed.

Maybe nothing had.

I shifted gears. The hotel address glowed on my screen, private and discreet. The kind of place where the staff knew faces but not names.

Alicia's name lit up my phone.

I turned the volume down until the car was silent but for the rain.

Not now.

The surgeons had things under control. Papers were signed. Her parents were there. My staying would have changed nothing except to watch her fall apart.

Besides, Alicia married me knowing what this was.

A contract. A life built on polished appearance, not messy feelings. She didn't have to like it, but she understood it.

She would.

Eventually.

I pressed the accelerator, letting the city smear by in streams of light and shadow.

The hotel rose out of the storm like something carved from old money. Gold trim along the roof. Doormen in dark coats. Valet under the awning, unshaken in the weather. I pulled in, cut the engine, and handed off the keys.

Inside, the lobby glowed warm against the tempest. Jazz curled through the air, soft and hushed. Crystal chandeliers caught the light like drops of fire.

Lucy sat at the bar, legs crossed, a glass of red wine in front of her. Heads turned when she shifted, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth. She looked like the kind of woman chaos couldn't touch.

"Edward," she said as I approached.

"Lucy."

The bartender slid a drink in front of me without asking. I took the seat beside her, the warmth of the room sinking into my shoulders.

"You're late," she said, eyes drifting over the open collar of my black silk shirt, the sleeves pushed up once at the wrists. "Busy?"

"Hospital," I said. "My wife's sister. Surgery complications."

One brow lifted a fraction. "Serious?"

"They operated again. The doctor just texted me now. Said she's stable."

"And you left her there?"

"She had her parents," I said. "Her family."

A small smile curved her mouth, impossible to read. "Of course."

She swirled the wine. "I suppose wives don't always understand the demands on men like you."

It sounded soft. Almost kind.

There was something under it.

I didn't name it. I let it go.

"She knows what our marriage is," I said.

"Does she?"

The line of her mouth sharpened, then smoothed again.

Lucy has always been like this. Elegant. Controlled. Back when we were kids at school events and summer our families shared, she ran the game in every room. She never raised her voice. She didn't need to. If people scrambled to keep up, I hadn't minded. Maybe I still didn't.

"I was surprised to hear you'd married," she said.

"Why?"

"You never struck me as the type to settle."

"Marriage doesn't mean settling."

"Doesn't it?"

The question lingered in the air, while thunder rumbled far off, heavy as stone.

"Married," she said at last, watching the wine slide against the glass. "I kept hearing it tonight. I had to see for myself."

"I didn't realize my life required your approval."

"Approval?" Her smile deepened, amused. "No. Curiosity. Like I said before, you never struck me as a man who chose... stillness."

"People change."

"If you say so."

The waiter topped off her wine. She didn't look away from me when she thanked him.

"What's she like?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Your wife."

"Alicia," I said. I let her name sit there.

"Yes. What kind of woman made Edward Valentine say vows?"

"She didn't make me do anything."

She laughed behind the rim of her glass. "Hardly. So what is she like?"

I considered the truth and set it aside. It was too complicated to hand to Lucy as if it were a gift she could open and examine.

"She's different," I said.

"Different how?"

"You'd have to meet her."

Something flickered in Lucy's eyes. It was gone before I could place it. "Maybe I will."

We let the jazz fill the quiet. The rain pressed against the windows.

My phone lit up on the table.

Alicia.

Lucy's eyes flicked to the screen, then back to me, smooth as ever.

"Are you going to answer?" she asked.

I picked up the phone and stepped away from the bar.

"Edward?" Alicia's voice frayed before I said a word. Thin. Tired.

"Alicia. What is it?"

For a second there was only rain.

"You left." Not loud. Sharp enough to cut.

"You had your parents," I said. "You weren't alone."

"You didn't stay."

I closed my eyes. People stared when I walked into rooms. They didn't plead with me.

"She's fine," I said. "They told you that."

"That isn't the point."

I looked back. Lucy watched me with her chin on her hand, wine glass balanced in the other as though time didn't apply to her.

"What do you need right now?" I asked, calm and even.

"What do I need?" Her laugh broke. "My sister almost died tonight and you're asking what I need?"

"I can't change what happened," I said, lowering my voice. "I can only handle what comes next."

"What comes next, she repeated, very softly.

Lightning split white along the glass.

"Hey, Edward, come and see this. Didn't you miss me?" Lucy called out.

Alicia's breath hitched. "You're with her, aren't you?

"You're making assumptions."

She didn't shout. She didn't curse.

"I just called to tell you she's out of surgery," she said. I didn't know you already knew."

"Alicia—"

The call dropped.

I stood there for a moment, phone against my ear, listening to nothing.

When I turned back, Lucy was smiling feebly. Not wide. Just enough to say she'd heard more than I wanted her to.

"Trouble at home?" she asked.

I slid my phone into my pocket. "Let's order another drink."

She nodded to the bartender. The glass landed with a gentle tap. I took a swallow. It tasted like water.

Lucy spoke about Paris. A gallery. A villa on a hill above the sea. I watched her mouth shape the words and found I could not follow them to the end. The rain dragged its nails down the windows. Somewhere in my head a monitor that kept beeping, unchanging and gaunt.

My phone buzzed once against the table. I didn't look.

Lucy hand brushed my wrist. Warm. Intent. I let it stay. The jazz rose and fell. A laugh burst from a table behind us. I heard it through water.

"Edward?" she said.

I realized she had asked me a question. I nodded anyway.

"Another?" the bartender asked.

"Sure," I said.

I watched the pour. I watched the typhoon. I did not taste the drink. The glass was cold in my hand and my grip was tighter than it should have been.

I stayed at the bar with Lucy.

But the only voice I could hear was Alicia's saying, You didn't stay.