Page 87 of Tears of Gold

His hand runs through his hair. “Maybe I will try if you try to create something to sell.”

“I’m trying.” I hesitate for a split-second. Oh, what the hell. “I painted yesterday.”

Gerard raises a ginger eyebrow. “More painting?”

I shrug and investigate the random marks on the ceiling above our heads. “I guess that’s what I’m feeling right now.”

“Wanna show me?”

“It’s in the studio at home. I’m out later but would you like to come over tomorrow? I think we have Sienna coming over?”

He shakes his head. “Look at you, new home, posh friends who you once couldn’t stand to be in the same room as. Dinner parties… what you have become is a far cry from the angry young woman who told me she deserved a place on my Fine Art degree because she could make shit.”

I laugh loudly making passers-by turn in our direction. “I did not say that.”

“Oh, but you did.”

“We shall agree to disagree on that one.” I smile at him with genuine warmth. Finding out he had lied to me back in the beginning of the summer seems a long time ago. Too much has happened since then; too many lies, too much heartbreak and grief. “I’ve got to go, but come tomorrow?”

“Where are you going now?”

“To see my lawyer.” I force myself to keep smiling.

“That is no way to talk about Elijah.”

“Not him.” I blow out a puff of air. “Not him.”

I turn on my heel and walk for the exit and the gates. Time to get my big girl pants on and start dealing once and for all.

I’m not expecting Eli to be at the house, but then maybe I’m just in denial. Of course, he is going to be there. When my eyes find his in the sitting room as he sits and rifles through the paperwork on his lap, he gives me a helpless smile. I know. He wants to help. Wants to protect me. Set me free.

The other man in the room is not what I was expecting at all. Older with greying hair and a middle-age spread, he looks more the fatherly type than the 'put the asshole down' type. And Eli wants me to tell this guy everything? Is he mad?

“Faith.” Eli puts the papers down and gets up, kissing me on the cheek, his hand just briefly brushing over my tummy. Shivers of delight wash through me.

Remember what you are fighting for.

“This is Reggie Fitzpatrick.”

“Reggie?” I somehow manage to control my snort of laughter. “Hi.” I wipe my hand on my jeans and smooth down the deep green silk shirt Saskia picked for me.

“Faith, Eli has been filling me in on your case. It seems there's a lack of information coming from the police? Is that right?”

“Uh.” Okay so we are going straight into this then, no cup of tea, or slice of cake to break the ice. “Well, my liaison officer called me the other day and just said the investigation was still ongoing.”

“They will be looking for witnesses that can either support your claim or dispute it.”

My mouth dries, my tongue determined to stick to the roof of my mouth.

“Dispute it?”

“Well, yes.” Reggie (sorry but I won’t get used to that) meets my gaze earnestly. “You are talking about a man’s life. Contrary to popular belief, a police investigation isn’t a witch hunt.”

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

Reggie grins widely. “No, but others will.”

“And you are happy about it because?” Is this guy for real? I look at Eli in bewilderment, but he looks as lost as me.