It was a big relief when she finally heard the sound of keys in the door; the afternoon had been painfully long. She had been curled up under a blanket on the couch with a book, a scenario she could usually get lost for hours in. This time however she hadn’t been able to concentrate. It had been a very long and anxiety filled day and trying to engage her brain with anything had been over-optimistic. Her official excuse was going to be the couch, however. She’d never liked his couch much; it wasn’t squishy enough for her liking. Still, she supposed when you were redecorating in such a ‘remove all signs of my deceased abusive wife’ hurry these things could get overlooked.

On the bright side, her finger hadn’t twitched yet despite the provocation. Clearly the cognitive behavioural stuff was working – she was loathe to admit it to him but Justin’s suggestion that she try therapy along with him had actually been quite helpful.

“Liv?”

“In here babe!”

She tossed the book on the table, wondering why she hadn’t done that several failed attempts to read it ago. Justin appeared in the door, tugging his tie away from his neck and unbuttoning his collar.

“Dare I ask?”

“Oh I have no doubt the world’s hashtagging it to you as we speak.”

The sourness in his tone made Olivia cringe. It had been his first live appearance since Vanessa’s death and they’d worried what he might be asked. “That bad?”

“It started that bad and only went on to surpass it. It’s almost like they were scoring it – fifty points if you can mention the divorce, twenty for his new girlfriend and bonus round if you can squeeze in the word ‘murder.’ I’m not sure what world these people live in where it’s within appropriateness to ask a guy trying to promote a movie who he thinks killed his wife, but it was a fucking nightmare.”

Justin felt incredibly restrained in simply standing up and walking out. He hadn’t stomped or yelled or otherwise expressed the rage he felt, he had simply looked stony-faced and left. The stream of expletives had miraculously never left his lips. The incident was gaining notoriety at an alarming rate if his cursory glance at his messages was anything to go by; Trace told him that social media was already producing a million gifs of his pissed off face. Since their romance had finally hit the news a few weeks ago he knew that a lot of people would be tweeting Olivia about it, as they did everything to do with him. He was almost alarmed at how fast the two of them had become so linked in the public mind (he particularly hated all the commentary about how it was supposedly ‘too soon’).

It had not made for a fun interview. Since the news had come right after the police announcing that they were closing the investigation into Vanessa’s death without any successful arrests, the media was having a field day. Everybody wanted to know about the women in his life, living and dead, and it was a bad time for him to be doing the promotional circuit. But this was when the movie was coming out so he didn’t have much choice.

“Could be worse I guess,” he said. “At least I’m no longer their number one suspect.”

That was the media’s number one suspect, not the police’s. Unfortunately there had been a leak and the news had emerged from his police interview very early on that he had been planning to file for divorce (he had decided it was best to be upfront so nobody could accuse him of hiding anything, but he hadn’t planned on it becoming public knowledge). Conspiracy theories had run wild. People had started scrutinising his every move and facial expression and asking all the same horrible questions that he’d been punishing himself with already. Was he a hypocrite for being upset, did he have any right to go to the funeral… it had not been fun. Of course as soon as it had become clear another vehicle was involved they jumped to the conclusion that he’d either been driving or had paid the driver.

Even the police’s quick and categorical elimination of him as a suspect hadn’t completely quelled them. There had still been dribs and drabs over the months. The whole thing had been excruciatingly painful to navigate and the mere mention of it was enough to make him morose. The whole thing still tortured him. The authorities were unable to tell whether there was any intent behind it or not but they had confirmed that there must have been another car. The best case scenario was that Vanessa had been the victim of a hit and run, the worst case was murder. All this time had elapsed and yet that notion was not getting any easier to process. He might have hated her by the end but he couldn’t stomach the thought of her dying that way. Whatever else she’d done, he had loved her once. The subsequent dead end the investigation had come to only made that worse; he needed to know yet likely never would.

The only saving grace had been that nobody had found out about Olivia until the two of them had decided that they would dispense with the secrecy. The need to keep being discreet had meant that they spent a lot less time together than he’d have liked, but privately he thought to himself that maybe the enforced distance had been good for them. It made them take it slow and steady whether they liked it or not. It was only in the last month or so that they started venturing out together, and even now there were still some people acting like she was stepping on a dead woman’s toes.

Nobody who actually knew them, but then what was a small matter like that to stop people judging?

“Wish somebody was their number one suspect,” Olivia grumbled. She really felt the whole thing would be much easier on all fronts – personally and in terms of media attention – if there was any prospect of finding out who did it. The speculation over whether it was accidental showed no sign of abating even after this long.

“Yeah, well that ship’s sailed I guess.” Justin dropped onto the couch next to her with a dramatic sigh. He was feeling a little self-pitying. “So that was my shitty day. How about you baby, how was yours?”

“Pretty dull,” she shrugged. “Found a couple of places online I think are worth viewing, you wanna come? I’m thinking day after tomorrow if I can get an appointment.”

“Is Rob going to be okay with that?”

“Rob’s not coming, he’ll be at work. And even if he was he’d just have to put on his grown up pants and deal.” She leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips.

Justin finally cracked a small smile. “I love it when you get sassy. Sure then, I’ll come with.”

Despite his best efforts, he had not managed to hit it off with her twin. Rob seemed to resent his presence and things got very awkward when they were together. It wasn’t in a sullen or childish way; it was more a matter of strained civility. Everything was always very stiff and over formal when they were both in a room and knowing how close Olivia was with her brother that bugged him. He didn’t expect to become best buds but friendly would have been nice. Privately he thought Rob was having a hard time dealing with not being the only significant man in her life any more (he gathered that none of her previous boyfriends had lasted all that long). Add to that the many legitimate reasons anybody who knew the full story might disapprove and it all spelled ‘uncomfortable.’

“I think he’s just a bit freaked out by the idea of us not living together any more after so long, even if he knows it’s a good idea to get our own space. He’ll come round.” She shrugged.

“Maybe he should talk to your therapist too.” Justin made it sound like a joke but actually he was fairly serious.

“I tried but he doesn’t wanna know,” Olivia replied, shaking her head. “I know I was just as sceptical as he was but it does help.”

“See how I’m always right?”

“I don’t know about always.”

“Always.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder briefly. In an odd little way he was quite proud of it; he’d made a lot of effort since that night to try and reciprocate the help he received from her. It was nice to know he’d done anything at all useful.

“Hmm.” Affectionately she squeezed his knee. “Feel like dinner? Chris called and invited us out, maybe somewhere nice and a bottle of wine can erase asshole interviewers?”

“Ugh, after that interview it’ll be paps everywhere. Takeout and wine here might be a better plan.”

“Good point.”

“Again, always right.”

“Yeah yeah.” Her lips brushed his. “You tell yourself that. Want me to call him back and invite them here?” She did like Chris. They’d known each other casually before but since learning of the whole situation he had become almost a champion of sorts for her, always very supportive of their relationship. He was unfailingly willing to help them out when it came to dealing with the whole mess or when they’d have to keep things quiet. She thought maybe that was his way of compensating with Justin for not seeing through Vanessa previously.

“Sure.” He did enjoy the fact that she got on fine with most of his friends. That made a lovely change. “Let’s drink shit away.”

Paparazzi, dead end police investigations, awkward brother-of-girlfriend, at least alcohol always worked. God bless tequila.

**

“Yeah, I can see what you mean – it’s taken a good swipe there.”

“Yesterday was not my day. So what’s the damage?”

“It’ll need a new panel, and if you look under here…” He leaned down and pointed behind the tyre. “You can see the interior of the wheel arch has bowed. I can probably pound that back out but the panel’s beyond saving.”

Experience had over the years had taught Thomas to read his customers pretty well. You came to know what people who knew cars acted like and what people who didn’t acted like. The grimace on this guy told him that when he read the estimate it wouldn’t be anything unexpected. He had the look of somebody who knew what a whole new front panel was going to cost.

Indeed, when he handed over the bit of paper not a single bit of surprise registered on his face.

“Yeah, this is about what I figured. How long is it likely to take?”

“If I order it in standard, it’ll be four to five days. Expedited I can make it tomorrow or day after but that costs an extra hundred.”

“Nah, standard’s fine. It’s bike weather so I won’t miss it in the meantime.”

Thomas chuckled. “I hear ya, I’m waiting for new brake discs to arrive and it feels like a waste being in the truck. Honestly, they say four to five but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s here by Wednesday.”

“Sounds good.” He counted out and then handed over a wad of bills to Thomas. “I have your number, I’ll call and check then.”

“Sure, let me go grab you a receipt.”

“Thanks, appreciate it.”

After Thomas had disappeared, his customer’s shoulders finally started to relax a little. The mechanic hadn’t questioned the story or seen that the denting and scratches weren’t fresh. The temptation had been to rush out to get it fixed, make it go away, but he’d worried that the police might be checking repair places to see if any cars had turned up with that kind of damage. It had felt safer to hold off all this time until the coast was clear. All it had needed was one quiet lie about selling it; a pain to get a new car, but necessary. It had been able to sit in the lock up where only he would ever venture.

Finally the investigation was closed. Now he could do something about it without worrying about the cops coming knocking. Payment in cash for the repair now, no trails, and nobody would be any the wiser. Once it was fixed he could sell it for real. Maybe then he would finally breathe easier and stop being on edge all the time, especially around the happy couple. Maybe then this whole thing would finally be done. Still, as always, he would take whatever he had to so long as she was safer for it.

As he stood there, staring at the signs on the wall without really seeing them, the familiar rhythm tapped out against his thigh. One, one two. One, one two.