Page 21 of Avalanche
Lily shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” She frowns, as if doubting her own words, then adds: “I mean, not that I heard. But who knows, right? What if some of them were drugged? How would you even know?”
The table is silent for a long moment as the weight of her question settles over us like lead. I dare a glance at Liam, but his attention is fixed on the menu, a frown on his face. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as me—that we should have done more. Should have gotten rid of Tom from the start, from the very moment he made Lily uncomfortable. That we should have seen him for what he was.
I think we did see him for what he was. We just didn’t act.
My mind whirs as the talk turns to what we’re going to order, as we agree on sharing a few pastries from the cabinet instead of ordering the more expensive meals prepared in the kitchen.
It shouldn’t even be a consideration. We shouldn’t be sitting here worrying over the cost of a few mediocre croissants. Matty shouldn’t be stressing over using his savings to treat us all. And Tom—he certainly shouldn’t be walking free, somewhere in this world, with his reputation and finances and life still intact.
My lawyer’s email from this morning rushes back to the forefront of my mind, reciting the demands that only hours ago seemed completely impossible. Insurmountable.
They still do. But…
I think about the jealous grasp of Liam’s hand when Matty smiled at me. That same hand had gripped the back of Matty’s neck and pushed him between Lily’s thighs. His eyes had flared with desire when I’d touched Matty, when my own hand had skated over Matty’s bare shoulder, when my body had been pressed against his.
And then Matty opens a door for me and gives me a blushing smile and Liam is practically pulling me to his side.
It’s so, so confusing, this thing between us all. I just want to explore it. Slowly. Softly. Without the pressure of legal ultimatums hanging over me.
You have ten business days. A copy will not be sufficient. You will not be appointed as beneficiary until an apostilled, certified original, with translation, has been received. Failure to produce a marriage certificate within that time will result in the estate reverting to your father…
Months ago, when I left Oxford and the comfort of my parents’ financial support, I told myself that money didn’t matter. That I would be perfectly happy with whatever I could make as a ski instructor. That my freedom was worth the discomfort of relative poverty.
And it was, until I had others to think about.
… for clarity, and to answer your question, we recommend whatever marriage contract you enter into be with someone female, not male. While France does, of course, recognize equality of marriage, it did not do so at the time your grandfather made his Will and Testament. This means that there could be grounds for your father to contest your appointment as beneficiary should you marry a man rather than a woman, on the basis that your grandfather did not intend marriage in this context to mean marriage with a man. The marriage must also be a true marriage, and should the marriage dissolve within two years, or should you and your spouse not live together for two years following the marriage, there is a high probability that your father would contest your appointment…
“What can I get for you?” The waitress gives us a thin smile before settling her attention on Lily, the smile becoming a little more genuine. “Or do you need more time?”
Yes, I want to scream. I need more time.
I need to talk to Lily. To Liam. To all of the guys. This decision, it affects all of them.
But Lily most of all.
“No, no, we’re ready,” Lily assures her, then glances to the rest of us for confirmation. I nod, the menu clutched in my fingers so tight the paper crumples.
“Yes,” I rasp. “I’m ready.”
Or at least, I have to be.
Chapter 6
Liam
Coming back to our condo after a day spent wandering through the high-end shops on Main Street feels wrong. Leaving a world full of clean, crisp lines and sparkling lights to come home to worn beige, musty warmth, the faint hint of sour beer—it feels like dropping into a turn too early, or too late. Like catching my downhill edge and lurching down the mountain.
It's never bothered me before, living like this. Even before my injury, when I was drowning in sponsorships and prize money, I always lived in places like this. I liked the grit, the simplicity of this life. I never wanted any of that pretentious shit they sold to tourists. That was for them—for people content with exchanging thousands of dollars for five days a year playing in the snow.
Now…
My gaze drifts to where Antoine bends, carefully untying his boots at the door, his scarf slipping up over his ears, his creamy sweater stark against dark skin. Out of the four of us, he looked the least out of place on Main Street.
He looks the most out of place here. Like a precious stone dropped in gravel.
“I’m going to have a quick shower,” Matty announces, kicking off his boots. He straightens, brushing careless waves of thick blond hair from his forehead, pale skin flushing pink as he casts Lily a hopeful grin.
“I’ll come with you,” Lily tells him, and his hopeful grin turns into something more than triumphant.
