Page 92 of The Refusal

My car is like an oasis of calm after the frenetic energy of the last few hours, and a long sigh slips out of me when I relax back into the leather seat. I catch Jo’s blank expression as I back out of the space and turn right out of the entrance into the dark of a Manhattan night.

“Where are you taking me?” she says.

I risk a quick glance at her. A frown is hovering on her face.

“My place,” I say, in a way that hopefully brooks no argument.

She stares out of the window of the car as we run through several sets of green lights.

“The apartment that Aubrey was photographed in?” she eventually says, and I peer over at her, narrowing my eyes. I can’t quite place the tone in her voice.

“Yes. How did—”

“I saw the pictures in an interiors magazine on the plane.”

I pull to a stop at some red traffic lights on an intersection and wonder what to say.

“Whydid you mention that?”

She shrugs. Maybe she thinks something more is going on with Aubrey than there is? The idea is laughable, but my whole body goes tight.

“Those photographs were taken before I met you,” I say.

“The article said she was separating from her husband.”

I laugh at this—Aubrey and her bullshit marital drama. “Yeah sounds about right, she’s always splitting up with him.”

More silence.

“Has she lived with you?”

“Livedwith me?” What is she talking about? “Well, she’s stayed over once or twice.” Then realizing how this sounds, I add, “Usually when her husband’s chucked her out.”

“Of course,” she says and my eyes swivel to her, pulse picking up at the slightly snipped tone. A tight laugh slips out as I swing my eyes back to the road. This is not the conversation I was expecting to have after she leaned into me in the office.

“What’s up, Jo?”

She shakes her head.

“Jo, you can’t seriously think—”

“I don’t know what to think, Janus.” She folds her arms over her chest, and my pulse takes off.

“Oh, noway.”

I pull the car into the side in a sudden swerve and brake to a stop, gazing out at the lights of the buildings. The car ticks quietly as I suck in air. I squint at the empty streets and run my hand over my jaw. Turning to face her, I find she’s focused down on her hands. Does she think something is going on withAubrey? She’smarriedfor God’s sake, and she’s manipulative and a terrible game player and … I would never go there.

“Jo, look at me.”

But she doesn’t turn, just keeps staring at where her fingers are playing with her worn coat cuff.

“Isthiswhy you didn’t get in touch with me? You thought something was going on withAubrey?” My voice is rising now.

“I don’t know what to think.”

Some wildness starts to burn through me.Fucking hell. I’m scrabbling to hold on to whatever progress we’ve made in the last few hours like a drowning man. I amnotlosing her again over this. My chest caves in at the thought. The words bubble up in a rush falling over themselves to stumble out of my mouth.

“Jo, don’t do this to us.”

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