Chapter 43

"I must say, this isn't your usual style of haunt," Liam says a few hours later, looking around the dive-style bar that Marcus has asked him to meet at. "And certainly not in the early afternoon on a weekday."

"Life has taken several unpredictable turns recently," Marcus says drily, tipping his beer in greeting.

"Beer as well," Liam shakes his head. "What is the world coming to?" He motions to the bartender and asks for a beer himself.

"I feel like we're proper mates now," Liam says, taking a long pull of his drink. Liam was raised in England with his mother, and Marcus has always found his lilting accent quite charming. They used to joke that it made Liam far more popular with the ladies than he had any right to be.

They're not in a joking mood today, however, Marcus thinks sourly. No, this is a meeting to discuss unpleasant business, and better to get on with it.

"Might as well jump right in," he sighs, and then fills Liam in on recent events.

Liam listens attentively, murmuring little exclamations of surprise at the appropriate points in the story. When Marcus finishes, Liam sits without speaking for long moments, draining his beer and signaling for another before he responds.

"Well!" he says. "Seems like I missed out on quite the scene. I'm rather jealous I wasn't there. You truly heard Evelyn actually arguing with your mother? My god, that's a sight I'd have loved to have seen."

He sounds impressed, if not a little in awe, and Marcus grins despite himself.

"Indeed," he says. "She was brilliant. I came into the room to find her looking like she was about to spring across the desk at my mother and have her by the throat if she came any closer to my father."

"A true wolf at heart," Liam murmurs thoughtfully. "Marcus…I wonder."

"Wonder what?" Marcus asks.

"It's not widely known outside of fairly ancient lore, which only we dusty little geek wolves delve into anymore," Liam says. "But there are stories – just stories, mind you – of human mates to wolves who become wolves themselves."

"What?" Marcus exclaims.

"Shh!" Liam hisses. "Not so loud. And like I said, these are only rumors. Legends, really. But the way you speak about this Evelyn, and the way you spoke about Nicole – something is going on here, Marcus. I don't understand it, not yet, but something is going on."

"So, what do we do?" Marcus asks, forcing his voice to remain steady.

"We wait to see what happens, I guess," Liam says. "But in the meantime, I think it's time to pull the plug on the Lydia situation. It's not going to get any better. You gave it a good try, but it's time to end the farce."

"I'm so relieved to hear you say that," Marcus says. "I'm not sure how much longer I could have gone on pretending."

"I was wrong to push you in the first place," Liam says, sounding regretful.

"You were only doing what you thought best," Marcus says, clapping a hand on Liam's shoulder. "And I agreed with you, and went along with it."

"Still," Liam says, knocking back the rest of his second beer and standing. "Want me to come with you? For moral support? Or backup, if they get bitey?"

Marcus laughs. "I think I'll be all right," he says. "But a stiff whisky in my office afterward might be required."

"I'll be there," Liam promises. "Good luck."

"Marcus!" Lydia's mother exclaims when he's shown into their family room half an hour later. It's only early afternoon, but she seems a little in her cups already. She waves the butler over to the drinks cart and asks Marcus what he'll have.

"It's five o'clock somewhere, as the saying goes!" she titters. Marcus tries to smile politely, but he has a feeling it comes off as more of a grimace. He accepts a glass of whisky and sits uncomfortably at the edge of the sofa.

"So, darling boy, what brings you here?" Lydia's mother asks, gulping her own gin and tonic as if it's lemonade. "Lydia didn't say you had plans today."

"We don't," Marcus says, feeling awkward and wrong-footed in a way that's unusual for him. "I do apologize for the intrusion, but I need to speak with Lydia. It's rather urgent – it can't wait."

"Oh!" Lydia's mother says, her eyes going round and wide. "Oh, of course! Just you wait right here and I'll call her down. You can have all the privacy and time you need, right here in the family room!"

She deposits her half-drunk gin and tonic on the nearest table and hurries away. Marcus really grimaces now – it's obvious the woman thinks he's here to propose.

Really, Lydia and her mother can't seem to be more delusional. Nothing about their sham of a relationship has ever worked or gone well. Anyone with half an ounce of self-awareness would know that Marcus is here to end things, not propose marriage.

Lydia comes in a few minutes later, and Marcus can see from the look on her face that she's just as ignorant as her mother. Her face is shining, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She smooths out a non-existent wrinkle on her designer sweater and sits down on the sofa next to Marcus.

"Mama says you have something to ask me?" she says breathlessly, already fidgeting with the ring finger of her left hand.

Marcus wonders if her mother told her that he was here to propose – maybe even making it sound like Marcus had asked permission first. He feels especially sorry for Lydia, if so, but really. She of all people should know how unlikely a proposal from Marcus would be.

He doesn't like her and they always have a miserable time together. She should know that, goddamn it.

Marcus sighs. Best to get this over with quickly, he assumes. Like ripping off a Bandaid.

"Lydia," he says, his tone even and kind. He takes her hand and squeezes it gently. "I'm so sorry, but I'm sure you know what I'm here to say." He isn't sure of that at all – quite the opposite, in fact – but he hopes his words will help nudge her into seeing reality, and how inevitable this was.

Lydia's brow furrows – clearly, this isn't how she's expecting the conversation to go. Marcus mentally sighs and plows forward.

"You're a lovely young woman, and you'll make someone very happy someday. However, I think you're aware that I'm not the person for you, nor you for me. We don't work well together, and I think it's best we break things off now, instead of trying to force something that can't be."

An impressive array of emotions flicker across Lydia's face, so rapidly it's hard to keep track of them. Confusion, doubt, disbelief, shock, hurt, and – ultimately – anger. Intense, blinding anger that streams out of her the moment she opens her mouth.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" she hisses, half raising a hand like she's about to slap Marcus. She seems to think better of it and drop her hand back to her lap, where her nails clutch at her trousers like claws.

"I'm not," Marcus says. "I don't know how or why you got the impression that I was here to propose to you, but that has never even crossed my mind. I'm sorry, Lydia. It's just not working out for me."

"Who is she?" Lydia demands.

"What?"

"Who is the little slut who has managed to grab your attention? Because you and I were doing amazingly; we were half a step away from the altar. So, if you're leaving me now, it means you've met someone else. And I want to know who that bitch is."

Marcus is taken aback – he thought Lydia might not take the break up well, but this is beyond the pale.

"Lydia, there is no one else, and you and I were never doing well," he says curtly. "Frankly, your behavior at present is extremely unbecoming, and I won't sit here and be spoken to like this. Good day to you."

He rises and swiftly exits the living room, hearing only a shriek and the shattering of glass behind him, presumably from the whisky glass he'd been drinking from, and that he believes Lydia just threw across the room.