The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of how I got into bed. Moaning, I sat up and blinked at the sunlight pouring through the blinds. My mouth was dry as sandpaper, and my eyeballs felt as though they were dipped in acid.

Ugh. Hangover.

I peeked Jessica’s bedroom, but she was not there. I wandered from room to room, searching for her, but she had taken her things and left the apartment to stay at Luke’s house for the weekend.

I sat in a rickety chair at my kitchen table, listening to the ticking clock hanging on the wall, and drank a tall glass of water as I watched my phone. Then I dragged my laptop to the kitchen and scrolled through the comments section of an article at CNN about the DUI fiasco:

Rehab for a DUI? What an insult to the victims’ families.

Rich kid heads to rehab, three people head to graveyards.

Not sure why people are blaming him when the article states he was a passenger in the car…

Then I opened a gossip website: Lawyer drops all charges against William Pardini. The comments section comprised of people wondering how much Will paid Ben to drop the charges. Disgusted, I closed the window and opened Photoshop. My first day of work was coming up soon, so there was still nothing to do. The blank, empty canvas stared at me, and I glanced at my sketchpad, remembering what I was working on the night I got back from Europe.

I got the idea to make a mock-up of a nonprofit organization against drunk driving. I never designed a whole website, let alone a non-profit, and I wanted to do something for Will to thank him for everything he had done for me. Between Ben’s antics with the photos and Will’s arrest, I didn’t have the time to focus on it.

The pain in my head receded from a dull throb to a slight twinge in my head. I chose a neutral color scheme: soft blues, beige, and white. At the top of the website, I made a banner: The William Pardini Foundation. Underneath the banner, I wrote a brief mission statement and cropped a photo of him to place over the text. I was so engrossed in the project I didn’t even notice my phone buzzing until it fell with a loud thump to the floor.

“Shit.”

I dove and answered it.

“Hello, this is Natalie.”

“Good morning, Ms. Porter.”

A ripened, male voice spoke through the cell phone. I knew that I recognized his voice, but I wasn’t sure who he was. Was he perhaps an old client?

“Um—good morning.” I still don't know who this is.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did with Mr. Osland. William and I are very grateful.”

A sudden shock went through me, and the phone almost slipped from my face. It's Will's Dad. "Oh! Yes, well, I was just trying to help."

“Well, I hope you’re still willing to help because William desperately needs it. He will meet the victims’ families tomorrow.”

“That’s great!”

“Actually, Ms. Porter, it isn’t.”

 The smile vanished from my face when I heard his icy tone.

"He's in no shape to visit them. What I want you to do is to accompany him. There will be media there, and we need to present William as a stable, well-adjusted adult in a healthy relationship. Support him, but above all, prevent him from doing anything stupid."

I could hear the panic rumbling in his voice. He was frightened that Will would say something that would damage the company’s reputation.

“Why didn’t he ask me himself?”

“He does not know that I am calling you. I am worried about my son, Ms. Porter, and I know what you said to my wife about him. I am allowing this to happen only because every other attempt to help him has failed. You will be well compensated for your trouble.”

“I don’t want your money."

He sighed. “I need some kind of assurance you’ll do this.”

The static crackled on the other end. I knew that I wouldn’t take his money, but perhaps there was something else he could do. “Settle with Luke and I’ll do it.”

There was silence.

“That’s none of your business.”

I cringed from the bite in his words. “Those are my terms.”

“Why does it even matter to you?”

“Luke is my friend. He helped Will, too, you know. He bailed him out of jail when he could have let him rot there.”

“Sitting in a cell for a few days is exactly what my son needs. Goodbye, Ms. Porter.”

“Wait!” I yelled before he could hang up, my heart pounding rather fast. “I’ll do it, but I don’t want your money.”

“I think so, especially when this entire mess could have been avoided if he never met you. The car will be at your apartment at eight tomorrow. Do not be late.”

The smile in his voice made me feel like I had been duped. “Okay."

“Oh, and Ms. Porter?”

My heart quickened. “Yes?”

“You’re a terrible negotiator. Goodbye.”

Mr. Pardini hung up before I could squeak out another word.

* * *

My pale, anxious face stared at me through the mirror. I picked up the brush and buffed my cheeks with blush.

Should I put my hair up or down?

I twisted my hair into a knot I piled on top of my head and studied myself. Too severe. I should look friendly. I let my hair fall down and winced at my reflection.

It was like getting ready for piano recitals when I was a kid. I knew I hadn’t practiced and that it would be an utter disaster, but I went anyways because my parents expected it of me. I felt the same way about today.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I forced myself to eat two pieces of toast and a large mug of coffee, wondering if Will would be in the car that picked me up. My breakfast churned in my stomach as whips of fear struck my body.

What will he say? Will he be angry that I came?

Even though it was still hours from their arrival, I ran to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, applying my makeup afterward. The next few hours were spent on the couch, grimacing as I checked the time and running back to reapply makeup.

The chime of the doorbell sounded through the apartment, and I dropped my lipstick, which clattered against the porcelain sink.

“Shit.”

I looked in the mirror to check my appearance and wiped my sweaty palms on the hand towel before I grabbed my purse and dashed out of the bathroom. I hoped they would approve of my dress. My heels sank in the horrible carpet, making me stumble as I rushed to the front door.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

I yanked it open and was startled to see Dominic Pardini standing on my doorstep, dressed as though he was going to a cocktail party. His eyes were very much like William's—intense and dark, but they lacked all of his warmth. They had scanned me before he gave me a small, approving nod. I tried to block his view of my apartment as much as I could.

“Ms. Porter, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Wonderful? I opened my mouth, but he gave a slight shake of his head.

“If you’d just follow me to the car.”

I stepped outside to the gleaming black Mercedes stopped on the curb and turned around to lock the door, and then I noticed the pair of men on either side of me with giant cameras.

“Whoa!”

“Do not be alarmed, they’re only the reporters I hired.”

I swung around to gawk at him. “You hired them?”

“Yes. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

They shoved the cameras in my face and took pictures. Mr. Pardini grabbed my arm and led me down the steps; then he opened the door, and I lumbered inside. The photographers didn’t follow us into the car.

“Go,” he said to the driver when he swept inside.

The sound from the outside world disappeared when Mr. Pardini shut the door of the car. I bit my lip and looked outside. Now that I was alone with him, I felt awkward. I kept stealing glances at William’s father, intrigued by him.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Porter.”

“You’re welcome. And you can just call me, Natalie.”

He was so different from Will; he was formal, poised, and dignified, whereas Will was crass and loud. It was a startling contrast.

“Very well, Natalie.” The name rolled awkwardly off his tongue. “We are en route to William’s apartment. We’ll leave to Redwood City and take photos of Will leaving flowers at the crash site, and then there will be photos with the families. The cameras will follow you inside their home.”

Oh my God.

My stomach churned, and I looked at his determined face. “Will agreed to do all this?” I really wasn’t sure it was the right move.

Mr. Pardini blinked at me. “No, of course not.”

I looked away from him and bit my lip hard, twisting my hands in my lap.

“What is it?” he said, sounding bored. “Just say it.”

I gave him a frightened look. “Um, Mr. Pardini, don’t you think that’ll look really staged?”

He let out a long sigh and rolled up his sleeve to glance at his watch. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Natalie. The shots might be staged, but William’s emotions will be real. Isn’t that the whole point?”

I couldn’t help but nod under his severe expression, but I knew that Will would hate cameras following him into their homes. He would never do it.

“Can I ask you why you are interested in my son?”

What do you mean, ‘why’?

William’s father looked at me. Perhaps he wondered why his son would be interested in me. I searched myself for the answer. It wasn’t hard to find, but I felt weird gushing about him to his father.

“I like being with him. He’s exciting.”

“I hope you have a little more integrity than the rest of the world. I noticed that he never made you sign an NDA.”

“So?”

He pulled a sheaf of paper from inside his jacket and handed it over. “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT” was written at the top in bold letters. I laughed.

“Really?” I held it and looked at Mr. Pardini, hoping that he had a sense of humor.

“There is a lot at stake here. I can’t afford for you to write a tell-all book with the first publisher that approaches you. I will pay you to sign this.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not my ex.”

His face reddened as he took the paper back and stared at it. “You realize that I’m your boss, right? I could have you removed from your position—I could blacklist you from any design agency in California.”

Was he threatening to fire me? “Mr. Pardini, there’s no need for threats. I have done nothing to you.”

“By the time you do, it will be too late.”

 “On my mother’s head, I won’t say a word to anyone.”

He shook his head and checked his watch again.

The rest of the car ride was awkward as hell, and I couldn't wait to get out of the car, even though the thought of showing up at Will's apartment unannounced made me feel ill.

I can’t believe he threatened me.

I opened the door as soon as the Mercedes stopped in front of the apartment, desperate to get away from Mr. Pardini and out of that suffocating car.

It was a pleasant, mild day for November and I didn’t feel cold until the wind roared down the Marina. Bodyguards were busy keeping the paparazzi at bay. As soon as they saw me, they screamed questions and waved their cameras in the air to get a shot. Shakily, I climbed the steps and wondered how angry Will would be with me. I knocked on the door as Mr. Pardini walked up the steps.

The door cracked open, and Will stood in front of me, wearing a shocked look.

When I saw him, I realized how much I missed him. He wore pressed khakis and a blue button-up shirt. It was startling how much his appearance changed in a few days. The dark circles under his eyes made him look ten years older, and his face looked thin as if he hadn't eaten. I dug my nails into my palms as his eyes suddenly narrowed.

“William, don’t be rude. Open the door so we can come inside.”

His lip curled. “You brought her here without asking me?”

“I wasn’t aware that bringing your girlfriend would be a problem.”

I was thrown by the poisonous look Will shot me. “I’m just here to support you, Will. That’s it. I swear.”

Mr. Pardini lost his patience, and he slammed his fist on the door. “Don’t be stubborn. Open the door!” he barked.

“Fine.”

His father barged in as Will stepped aside and I followed. He marched into the living room and left Will and me alone.

“So, how much did he pay you?”

Stung, I looked into his eyes, which were hard.

“I took nothing from your dad. You can ask him that yourself.”

Jerk.

He sighed, and the unyielding look vanished from his face. "Why are you here, Natalie? Didn't I hurt you enough?"

“I’m here because I care. You’re in this mess because of me. I want to make it right, so why won’t you let me?”

The emotion in my voice affected him. He gritted his teeth and looked down. “I wanted to do this alone.”

“Why do you have to do it alone?”

“Because it’s my cross to bear.”

“I won’t say anything. I’ll just be there with you.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I wish I met you years ago.” Then he turned around and walked to the living room.

What does he mean by that?

I jumped as someone pounded the door and I peered through the hole, recognizing the two reporters. “Let us in!”

“Shit.”

Will reappeared in the foyer. “Who is it?”

“The reporters your dad hired,” I said in a quiet voice.

“What?” He whirled around to look at him. “Dad, what is she talking about?”

Mr. Pardini looked unconcerned with the menace in Will’s voice. “Yes, I hired them to clean up this mess.”

“No,” he roared. “I won’t have them following me around when I do this. This is my problem.”

“It’s my company! It’s my name!” Mr. Pardini shouted back. “Do you think you’re the only one affected by all of this? Your mother and I have tried everything to make you happy. I’m done! I’ve had enough of you. All you’ve done for me is make my life difficult. You embarrass me. I am through cleaning up after you.”

Mr. Pardini’s thin frame shook; flecks of spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at his son. William’s eyes widened, and he took a step back.

Wow.

But he still wasn’t done. “You’ll never make CEO of this company! I let you believe that you had a chance because I wanted you to focus on something in your life, but it didn’t work.”

“Wow.”

"Will—" I stopped as they both looked at me, surprised that I was still there. "It won't be as bad as you think. You'll get to meet them as you wanted, and the public will stop hounding you for retribution. If they see the families forgive you, they might leave you alone."

“I don’t care about any of that. This was supposed to be private.”

“It stopped being private a couple weeks ago, son.”

William looked at me for help, but I shrugged and grimaced.

“Fine, but you’re staying here, Dad.” He nudged his head toward the door.

Mr. Pardini gave me a small nod as Will waited for me at the entrance. My heels clicked on the wooden floors, and my heart hammered as I stood beside him and heard his fast breaths. He was scared to leave his quiet sanctuary. His hand twitched by his side, and I lifted my hand to grab it. It was the first time we touched in days, and my blood heated in response. I wanted to tell him how much I missed the feeling of his hands around my waist, his lips pressed against my face. I missed being around him, but all I did was try to squeeze some of those thoughts into his hand.

* * *

Ugly, industrial South San Francisco rolled by as the driver took us down the Peninsula. I balled my fists over my knees as I watched Will’s face growing more and more anxious. He fingered a bottle of water in his hands.

“You know, I pictured this moment many times in my head. What I would say, what they would look like…When I saw myself doing this, I didn’t see a bunch of fucking reporters documenting the whole thing.” He looked at me. “I hate this.”

“I know you didn’t, but your dad’s right. This is affecting him, too. We have to do something.”

 He made an impatient noise and stared out the window. “I can’t believe he dangled that job in front of me to fix me.”

At least your parents care about you.

“Are you going to go back to work?”

“I don’t know.”

He said it in a closed way that made me realize that the conversation was over. Disappointed, I fell back into my seat. William's quiet gloom spread throughout the car like a thick fog, and I felt his anticipation when the car suddenly stopped in front of a modest home in a quiet suburb. This was the place that held one of the families that Will had a part in destroying.

Will craned his neck to look inside the windows where a few dark forms shifted inside. “They’re here.” His pupils were like pins.

I sat next to him, wrapping my arm around his back. "You can do this."

The door swung open as the driver got out of the car to let us out. At the sight of the reporters standing by with their cameras, he swallowed hard.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

It was so bright outside I flung my hand in front of my face. Remembering I was supposed to be Will’s “girlfriend,” I took his hand and tried not to look at the cameras following us across the trimmed lawn. He stopped in front of the door, his face a blank mask. He closed his eyes and grimaced every time he heard the cameras beep.

“I can’t do this with them there.”

Will give me a pleading look, and I sighed and nodded.

“I need you to wait outside,” he said to the two reporters behind us.

“That’s not what we agreed on.”

“Just stay the fuck outside.”

“Your father paid us.”

I placed a hand on his arm and stepped forward, blocking him from the reporters.

“This will all go easier if you stay outside. You’ll get the photos of them together, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Will nodded, looking relieved. “Okay, I’m ready.” Before he could rap his knuckles on the door, it unlocked and swung inward. I grabbed Will’s hand in a vice grip.

A tall, heavyset man with graying hair answered us, unsmiling. “You must be William.”

He flinched as if the man struck him, but there was no anger in his voice—no accusatory stare. He sounded tired.

“Yes, Mr. Metsky.”

I never heard him speak in such a quiet voice, and then I realized with a shock that this must be the father of Julian Metsky, the youngest victim.

That’s why he looks so terrified.

I could see him forcing himself to look the man in the eyes.

“Come in,” he said in his rolling, deep voice.

I followed Will, feeling horrible as I walked through the narrow doorway, brushing past Mr. Metsky. Inside was a small, carpeted family room. Two couches surrounded a coffee table where a large portrait of a young girl sat upright, grinning. Will shuddered to a stop and stared in horror at the photo until I sidled up to him and pinched his arm, hard enough to snap him out of it.

On the couch were several people with varying degrees of hostility. There were Julian’s mother, a teenage boy, and others who I assumed to be part of the Ramos family. I froze.

What do we do now? Do we shake their hands and introduce ourselves?

Will shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I’m Will. This is my girlfriend, Natalie.”

I gave them a weak smile and flinched as their eyes flicked to me like hot, stabbing knives.

“I’m sorry that it took so long for us to be in the same room together.”

Mr. Metsky gestured toward the couch. Will and I crammed ourselves beside the others, uncomfortable beyond belief. The tall man sat down on the leather chair opposite us.

“You’re having some week, aren’t you?”

Having nothing to say to that, William kept silent. He couldn’t stop staring at the giant portrait of Julian, which was in front of him. It seemed like it was placed there deliberately, to remind him of the beautiful little girl he destroyed.

“I wanted to visit for many years, I couldn’t pluck up the courage. I—”

“Give me a break,” the boy suddenly spat out. “He’s just here because he wants to make himself look better.”

“Jimmy!” The father snapped at his son.

So he’s Julian’s older brother. That would explain the hostility.

“We wanted you to come because we thought that the media was treating you unfairly,” Julian’s mother spoke beside him.

What? I shared an incredulous look with Will.

“Really?”

The father cleared his throat. “You weren’t the driver. We don’t blame you at all.” His eyes flicked toward the Ramos family, who so far said nothing. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t seem to agree.

He shook his head, looking miserable. “I didn’t stop him. It was my car.”

I saw them exchange glances. This was not going how they expected.

Will was breaking down. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the picture; he couldn’t quiet the grief stirring in his body.

"I'm sorry!" he burst out. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sob, then he broke down completely, his back heaving with sobs.

Julian’s parents looked at me with shocked expressions. Julian’s mother, a woman with long blonde hair, reached out and held his hand, and Will looked at it as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Neither did I.

Will sobs subsided, and he took a tissue box on the table and dabbed his eyes. “Every day, I hate myself for not being able to save her. I didn’t come here to absolve myself of responsibility. I wanted to come here and apologize and—and ask you whether I can—if there’s anything you want me to do.”

Forgiveness, I urged him.

“Can you bring up my daughter and her husband from the dead?”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Then there’s nothing you can do.” She turned around to her husband. “Tim, let’s leave. I can’t stand looking at this guy.”

Will was stricken as they stood up to leave.

Mr. Metsky was upset. "Please don't. You said you only wanted to see if he felt any remorse."

“I can’t take it,” she said, gathering her coat from the stand.

Tim shook Mr. Metsky’s hand and looked at Will, whose fist held the crumpled tissue. “You rich people think you can get away with anything. You'll burn in hell.”

The Ramos family swept out of the house, slamming the door in their wake. Mr. Metsky looked at Will's horrified face, and his eyes creased with pity.

“You have to understand that they’re very furious. We were angry, too for a long time, but we realized that it was destroying us.”

The tall form of his body blurred as tears blinded me. I reached for Will’s hand and squeezed hard.

“Julian wouldn’t want us to live the rest of our lives like that. We wanted to see remorse that’s all. You know, Dan never attempted to visit us. Never called to apologize or anything.”

Tears slid down my face as I looked at him. Never? I couldn’t believe it.

Will shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t talk to him anymore.”

Mrs. Metsky held her arm around his shoulders and whispered something in his ear, which made him break out into fresh tears. The rest of the visit passed in a whirlwind of tears from everyone, including me, and then they gathered outside to take pictures. I watched them, hoping beyond hope that this would help William heal.

* * *

“How was it?”

Mr. Pardini’s face was anxious as we reentered the apartment, with the reporter’s promise that the story would be published the next day. I looked at Will as he shrugged and headed straight for his bedroom, ignoring his father’s questions.

“It went okay. The Ramos family is still furious. They made that clear.”

He gave a look that was nonplussed. "Of course, they're angry."

“He didn’t take it well,” I said in a whisper. “I’ll go talk to him.”

I headed over to his bedroom and knocked before opening the door. Will sat on his bed, his beautiful blue shirt lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. His eyes flicked toward me, that same deadened look on his face. I could tell that it wasn’t enough.

Will, when are you going to come back to me?

I sat next to him. “What are you thinking?”

He said nothing for several seconds. “I’m still in shock, I think.”

I grabbed his arm and squeezed it until he looked at me. “They forgave you. Even they pointed out you did nothing wrong!”

“Not all of them.”

“The others are just angry because they have no one else to be angry with! Dan is out of the picture.”

“I know.”

I stood up from the bed, suddenly tired. Then I walked toward the door.

"Natalie?" His voice lifted in surprise.

“I need to go home.”

The bed bounced as he stood up. His hand slammed the door shut as I opened it. I was surprised that he followed me. His bare arm blocked my path, followed by the rest of this body as he leaned against the frame. I hated myself for the hope gathering in my chest.

“No, you will not leave like this.”

 “I’m not upset, I just—I’m tired.”

“Natalie.”

I hated the way he said my name. He reached out and took my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. I should have slapped them away, but I missed him so damn much. My lip trembled.

“I’ve been a dick to you this past week. I’m really sorry. You’ve done so much for me.”

His deep voice rolled over me with all the words I wished he said days ago. “You tossed me out of your apartment.” The memory of that horrible moment throbbed in my chest.

Will looked like he was in pain. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t give up on me, Natalie. Please.”

I shook my head, unable to prevent Will's arms from wrapping around me, holding me against his bare chest. My body went rigid as if I could prevent it from feeling anything good.

God, I miss him.

“Thank you for coming with me today. I don’t think I would have been able to do it without you.”

I wish I were more than that.

My heart sank as he disengaged his arms from around me. “Yeah,” I said without looking at him. “No problem.”

Grabbing for the doorknob, I wrenched it open and left before he could say another word.