You Can Trust Me Read Free Page B

and exposed. I wish I weren’t here. I wish I were anywhere else. At home, reading Zack a story or listening to Hannah argue for the millionth time how everyone else in her class has an iPhone.
    Will is talking now, some detail about work with Leo and another colleague. I stare down at the beautiful parquet flooring and notice that the polish on my right big toe has chipped. And then I feel Will stiffen beside me. Instinctively, I know that this means Catrina must have come over. I look up. Freeze. She’s standing in front of us, that blue dress hugging her curves, a pair of elegant drop earrings glittering in the lamplight. She extends her hand to Will, and he has to take his palm from my back to shake. She is as groomed and polished as Julia predicted, but utterly without the Parisian sneer.
    â€œWill, it’s been ages,” she says with a smile. She has a Yorkshire accent. I’m taken aback. I wasn’t expecting this … this mix of down-to-earth friendliness and sophisticated glamour.
    She turns to me. “Laura, is it?”
    â€œLivy.”
    We stare at each other. Beside me, I feel the tension radiating off Will.
    â€œOh, I’m so sorry.” She is young, but her nose is slightly blobby and her eyes set too wide apart. There’s an appealing vulnerability in her manner, but she’s no femme fatale.
    Still, I’m certain the mistake with my name was deliberate. Which surely means she cares. She still cares. I look anxiously at Will. Does he care back?
    I watch him talk to Catrina, trying to read the body language between them. He is reserved and awkward. Is that because of her? Or just the situation? Catrina is all surface poise, but her unhappy eyes give her away. Will’s hand is back on my spine, pressing my dress against my damp skin.
    â€œPlease excuse us,” Will is saying. “There are so many people I want my wife to meet.”
    He steers me away. I catch a glimpse of Catrina watching us.
    â€œLivy.” Will leans into me as we cross the room. “Are you okay?”
    I say nothing. I’m trying to process the fact that Catrina still wants him. Perhaps I imagined that. I look around again. She is still watching us. She looks desperately miserable.
    â€œYou do know how much I love you, don’t you?” Will’s voice is an urgent whisper in my ear.
    I turn and face him properly. I see no desire for Catrina in his face. Only concern for me. For the first time since we left the house, I relax a little. I’ve met her now. And Will doesn’t want her. It was all a long time ago. Over. At least as far as he’s concerned.
    â€œI think she still likes you,” I say with yet another forced smile, searching his face.
    Will shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It wouldn’t matter even if she did.” He lowers his voice. “It’s only you, Livy—you know that, don’t you?”
    His eyes plead with me. I nod as Martha appears at the end of the room to announce that dinner is ready.
    The next hour passes in a blur. Martha has tactfully sat Catrina at the opposite end of the table from Will and me. I can see her chatting with Paul and Becky.
    Dinner itself is delicious and served by more men in tuxedos who glide silently around the room, ferrying silver platters of Greek salad, then lamb noisette to each guest.
    Dessert is a selection of mini mousses and tarts. Then we have coffee. The evening is drawing to a close—Leo and Martha’s dinners are never late affairs; Leo is famous for rising early, even crediting his business success to the hours he puts in before the working day begins—and I’ve almost forgotten how humiliated I felt earlier, when Leo pitches up again. His cheeks are flushed and he carries with him the vague scent of cigar smoke.
    â€œCrisis in Geneva,” he growls. “It’s bloody Henri again.”
    Will, who hasn’t left my side all through dinner,