25. Maureen
Chapter twenty-five
Maureen
I drove Will back to Seattle in his car. His head felt better, but I declined his offer to take a shift. The sleek black Audi handled like a dream. When the Christmas station came blasting through the speakers as soon as I turned the key, it reminded me of our night five years ago.
For the first time, the memory was happy and not painful. It had been a magical moment, even if everything had gone to shit afterward.
We planned for me to drop Will off at his place and then catch a rideshare to Bren’s apartment. After I broke the news to my best friend that I’d decided to move home, I’d be ready to have a serious talk with Will about our future. Hopefully, he’d be ready to navigate some distance.
What we said to one another this morning had been a beginning, but there were a lot of variables to consider. Things had been great in Coleman Creek, where we laughed about gingerbread men and strolled through the Holiday Hoopla. But how would our fragile bond fare here, in the epicenter of Will’s life?
In the place where he’d had his accident.
Where the parents he couldn’t fully communicate with lived.
Where he still saw his ex-fiancée.
As though the universe heard my questions, when I drove the Audi from the arterial into Will’s neighborhood, I got another stark reminder that his past would always mark him.
Making a right turn, I jerked the wheel as I nearly collided with a cyclist going in the wrong direction. The woman pushed her bike pedals mindlessly as she came around the corner, weaving in and out of the lanes, oblivious to the fact three cars had to swerve to avoid her.
I cursed hotly under my breath as I hit the brakes, but I stopped myself from shouting out the window. The guy in the Toyota behind me was less restrained, laying on the horn and waving his middle finger at the bike as he yelled obscenities. The cyclist continued unaffected, likely only aware of whatever came through her earbuds.
“That was close,” I whooshed out, pulling over to the curb to get my bearings.
I glanced at Will, whose face had gone white. His breaths came in short puffs as he gripped the seat belt across his chest.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching over to put a light hand on his shoulder.
He opened his eyes and nodded. After a moment, he spoke with a shaky voice, “Yeah, I’m okay. My accident. I just get that way with bikes on the road, you know?”
“I’m sorry… Maybe it’ll cheer you up to know that I hate bike riding. Don’t own one.”
Will shook his head, releasing a brittle guffaw. “You think I’d be used to it by now. There are so many bikes in Seattle. But I guess it’s always going to mess me up a touch when something like that happens.”
“Understandable.” I moved my hand to rub up and down his arm. “That’s the thing about bad memories. They fade and change like any scar. Sometimes you notice them less…”
“But they’re still there.” He sighed heavily.
And sometimes you notice them more. My fingers drifted down to touch the small scar on my right leg from where I’d gotten stitches the night of my alcohol poisoning.
With an okay from Will, I started the car again. A minute later, I pulled up in front of a beautiful old apartment building in one of Seattle’s more established neighborhoods. It looked a bit out of place, surrounded by newer condos, but I preferred its homey feel to the modern steel boxes on either side.
“You remodeled this?” I asked.
“Um, no. I paid people to remodel it.” Will laughed. “But I worked closely with the architect to make sure it came out the way I wanted. It probably would have been more profitable to start from scratch—I certainly could have fit more units in that way—but maintaining the character of the building was important to me.”
“Well, kudos. It’s lovely.”
“Did you want to come up?” The question felt loaded even though we’d been acting like a couple for the past few days. “It can just be for coffee or a soda,” he said quickly. “No pressure.”
“I’ll come up for one cup of coffee or Diet Coke if you have it,” I said. “But then I’ve got to get going. Bren is expecting me.”
“Bren?”
“My best friend.” Will’s forehead scrunched. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. You mentioned staying with your friend but hadn’t said the name before. I feel like I’ve heard it recently and can’t place it. Weird.” His brows drew together.
We walked up an ornate marble staircase to Will’s third-floor apartment. He took his bags and gold pillows into the bedroom while I looked around the main living space. The prewar, shotgun-style layout had hardwoods and rounded archways above the doors. The galley kitchen was small by new build standards, but it had been opened so one half-wall functioned as more of an island. There were also brand-new stainless-steel appliances.
I noticed a small plastic Christmas tree in the corner. It made me smile, remembering the one Marley had put in his room at her house.
As Will poured soda into glasses in the kitchen, I unlocked my phone to get the rideshare squared away. In the app, I punched in the address for Bren’s apartment. Uh…
“Hey, what’s the address of this place?” I’d never gotten it since he’d just directed me to his building from the passenger seat.
He answered, and I laughed.
“What?”
“I think my best friend lives in this building.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! That’s where I’ve heard that name before. Bren. Her boyfriend is Chase, right?”
“Yep.”
“That’s crazy. That’s why they looked so familiar to me—they were in your videos. And at Musicbox. I just hadn’t put it all together. They actually live on this floor.”
I texted Bren to let her know where I was. “That is so strange. What a small world.”
Will grinned as he brought the sodas over, placing them on a side table. “Or the world just wants to keep reminding us we’re supposed to know each other.” We stood side by side and looked out his large picture window at the streetscape below, string lights brightening windows in the apartments across from his, pedestrians bundled up and carrying packages. He raised an arm and ran his fingers through my hair. “You’re growing out the auburn?”
“Yeah. No more dye. Letting the natural brown come back.”
“I like it,” he said, dropping his hand to graze his fingers along my neck. “And I like that fate keeps throwing us together.”
“You do, huh?” I put my hand over his, pressing it against my skin.
“Mm-hmm.” I watched his throat work as he swallowed. “And I really like that I’m recovered from my concussion now and can resume all…usual activities.”
Hesitating only a second before leaning harder into his touch, I felt my heart race. “Is that right? And what sort of usual activities were you thinking of resuming?”
He whispered directly in my ear, “Well, there’s this one thing I haven’t done in a really long time because I haven’t found a single person I wanted to do it with.”
I hummed in amusement. “Oh?”
“Yes.” He leaned in, pupils blown. His breath ghosted against my mouth as he continued, “It usually starts like this…”
Will turned and crushed his lips to mine, hungry and consuming. His arms wound around my torso, cementing our chests together. He tasted like the minty gum he’d been chewing in the car. I relaxed into the kiss, allowing him to seal us together in a slow, savoring way that made me feel cherished—as though after five years, we finally had all the time in the world.
I didn’t know exactly what tomorrow held in store for us and even though I had lingering doubts about the loose ends of his past, I knew what I wanted right now. And he wanted it, too.
His hands moved lower to cup my ass, and I ground against him, thrilled at the sensation of his erection pushing against my hip. My mind recalled the scrap of fabric covering him in the shower, not to mention the bulge I’d straddled on Marley’s couch. I had a suspicion this short king would prove more than adequate in the downstairs department.
Gently, I pulled my lips from his. “Your bedroom?” I rasped.
He stared heatedly into my eyes before grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the hallway.
Three sharp, loud knocks sounded on the door.
Will groaned.
“It’s probably Bren coming to collect me,” I said.
He pushed at the hardness tenting his pants and nodded. “It’s okay. We’ve waited this long.”
“True.” I smiled as he gave me a forehead kiss and turned to the door.
Bren and Chase stood on the other side. She immediately came into the room and wrapped me in a tight hug, talking a mile a minute. “Yay! I can’t believe you’re finally back. Super weird coincidence you know Will.” I’d only told her he was James’s friend. It didn’t seem like she remembered him from five years ago. “I’m so glad you came home before Christmas. I figured you’d stay in Coleman Creek until after the new year.”
My expression remained neutral, knowing I’d made the right call in waiting to tell her about my move face-to-face.
“Well, thanks for putting up with me until Christmas Eve,” I said, unwinding her octopus arms from my waist. “Except I gotta say, it feels like a downgrade to go from being roommates to crashing on your couch.”
“Shut your face, woman. We were never just roommates. We’re best friends, and nothing has changed. Also, there’s this weird little hidey hole in our apartment we’ve set up like a second bedroom. It’ll have your name on it until you find a new place.”
“Oh right,” Will piped in. “Some apartments had mechanical units hiding behind walls that literally went to nothing. This building is so old there were a bunch of surprises like that the contractor found. On the plus side, he also uncovered original hardwoods in most of the interiors and terrazzo in the lobby we were able to save.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to keep restoring apartment buildings as a career?” I asked. “You seem to love it.”
“Maybe one day, but I’m good for now. I want to work on my art for a while.”
“Where is your suitcase, Maureen?” Chase asked. “I can carry it to our place.”
I pointed at where I’d dropped my bag in the entryway. Every atom in my body wanted to go back to kissing Will, but the moment had effectively passed.
Knowing I’d be giving Bren the whole story soon, I stepped into his arms. Leaning close to his ear, I murmured, “We’re not done. I’ll text you soon.”
I felt the ripple of awareness go through him as the phrase “text you soon” reverberated between us. Five years after the first time. Except now he’d be waiting for me.
He pulled back and bore into me with his gaze. “Soon.”
Back in Bren’s apartment —magnificent in the quirky way only older apartments could be—she and Chase listened as I relayed my history with Will.
“I knew I recognized him from somewhere!” she exclaimed. “That fucking night at Musicbox. Man, that makes me feel so much better. It’s been driving me crazy.” She ran her hands through her light brown locks. “But what a dick move not to tell you he was engaged. Even if he didn’t know at the time, even if he just thought that Rosalyn chick was his girlfriend, he still should have said.”
“Word,” Chase agreed.
“I should have known something was up when you landed in the hospital. That whole thing about it being a mistake or nerves about your new job was total bullshit,” Bren continued, now pacing.
“You never would have gotten it out of me. I was too embarrassed, too caught up in proving I was the type of girl who would never let a man get under her skin.”
Bren frowned. “You were never that girl, though. Not really. And I’ve known you since college. You could have told me the truth.”
“No, Bren, I couldn’t have. I wasn’t being honest with myself then, let alone with you.” I sat down on the couch, watching her move back and forth across the carpet. Chase stayed thoughtfully quiet, his usual mode, listening as I told them, “When I met Will, I was coming off a tough conversation with my mom, where she admitted some mistakes she made when I was a kid.
“Looking back, I think the reason my mom talked to me wasn’t because she wanted to ask my forgiveness. It was because she saw the kind of person I was becoming. She wanted to warn me not to keep holding everyone at arm’s length. The problem was, right after that, I met Will and got burned. It made me double down. But even if the lesson took so long to learn, I’m glad she told me. Because I still hear her in my head. And I know the fact I’m finally making good decisions now is because she’s still in me. Imperfections and all.”
Bren stopped pacing. “And Will is a good decision?”
“I think so.” I pulled her down to sit next to me, both of us flopping back against the cushions.
“Are you saying you see a future with this guy?”
“It’s murky, but yes.”
“Why murky?”
“Because what do you do once you’ve let someone in? I’ve never done it before.” I exhaled. “Also, Will and I are going to have some challenges.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, Bren.” I offered a sad smile.
The following morning, Bren remained shocked by my plan to move back to Coleman Creek.
After I’d broken the news, we spent the night catching up and watching cheesy 2000s rom-coms in front of the Christmas tree. I’d missed her the past few months. It was nice having someone to talk to who appreciated the story of me giving Will a shower.
“Alright, I give you my permission to go forth and figure out if he’s worth it,” my best friend declared. “Especially since it’s been more than a year since you’ve gotten laid.”
After a breakfast of cereal and toast while we finished hanging the last of the ornaments, she sat on the couch scrolling through her phone, passing time until her shift at the bar.
“Oh my god!” she yelled suddenly as her hand flew to her mouth.
I paused in my task of sorting clothes for either donating or bringing to Coleman Creek. “What?”
She shoved her phone in my face. “Look! Stone Caseman just recommended your video on his social media.”
It took me a minute to process. “Stone Caseman? That jackass who got famous doing crazy stunts on the Internet?”
“Yes. That jackass with three million followers. And since he got cast in a movie with Naomi Butler, his numbers have gotten even more huge. And he told them to watch your video!”
Bren stopped on a reel and hit the play button. Stone appeared on screen, looking high and happy, speaking in a slow, slurred voice, like a generic-brand surfer. “Yo. My people. I need you all to check out this clip from this chick I found online. You know how sometimes you’re just sort of awake at three in the morning and start going down the YouTube rabbit hole? Well, I was feeling some kind of way about Christmas lately—mainly that I haven’t had much time to celebrate because I have this movie coming up later—and, yo, it’s gonna be a banger so don’t forget to catch Panic in First Class when it opens next year—Anyway, I found this cool video of this girl talking about her hometown at Christmas, real small-town shit, so I was expecting, like, you know, snow and lights and grandmas in rockers sitting next to candles—and it’s kind of like that—but then, it’s also, like, a normal little town, you know, not a postcard. And there are teenagers who are mad at the world, and this little kid who hates hot chocolate, and another kid who plays the guitar like a master but keeps giving the camera fuckin’ lewks—like, this shit is raw, man. So real. Anyway, if you want to see a little bit of—” He looked off to the side as though talking to someone, nodding before turning back to face the camera. “If you want a little bit of, like, Christmas in America shit, you should check this out. It’s dope.”
He’d attached the link to the Coleman Creek video. I clicked over to my channel to discover it had over two hundred thousand views.
“Two hundred thousand!” Bren exclaimed, confirming what my disbelieving eyes saw. “That’s insane.”
“Do I dare look at the comments?”
“Don’t worry. I already checked. There are a few awful ones, of course, but mostly, everyone is positive. A lot of them had the same reaction I did.”
“You never told me you watched it. What did you think?”
“Of course I watched it. Duh. You’re my best friend. I made Chase watch too. Mostly, I just kept asking myself why it was so interesting when it was just regular people talking. That should be boring, right?”
“No. I think it’s kind of the same as people watching videos of kids napping with their dogs or organizing their cupboards. The best kind of Internet is the kind that reminds you we’re all in this together.”
“I’m pretty sure the best kind of Internet is the kind that shows you what Henry Cavill looks like without his shirt on, but sure, making your plates stack up nice is a close second.”
“Fucking Cavill!” Chase shouted from the back room.
“Love you!” Bren shouted back, winking at me.
I had no idea how a dipshit like Stone Caseman had stumbled upon my video, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I felt even better when I saw the viewer counts ticking up on my other videos, as though the world had discovered Fashion Vibes with Francesca at the perfect time.
The same time I’d truly discovered who Francesca was for myself.
Just before noon, Bren and Chase left for work. Finally alone, I pulled out my phone to text Will. He beat me to it.
WILL: FYI, I never claimed to have any chill. I’m just sitting at home taking it easy. That was literally my entire plan for the day. Come by and keep me company.
WILL: I’m sure we can find something to keep us occupied.
WILL: Some usual activities for me to resume.
ME: I’ll be over in a little while.
I hopped in the shower and prettied myself up a bit, excited to finally tell Will about my move.
And I wouldn’t mind getting an up close tour of his bedroom.
Half an hour later, wearing my best-fitting jeans and a body-hugging plum cashmere sweater with my mother’s silver holiday wreath brooch, I knocked on Will’s door.
It opened on a confident swing.
But it wasn’t Will on the other side.
I blinked, needing to check I hadn’t entered some alternate dimension. I pushed my heel into the floor beneath my feet and saw the vintage light fixture above me. All real.
Too real.
Even though five years had passed, I’d have known the woman standing in front of me anywhere. Same blond hair. Same fake smile.
“Yes?” Rosalyn asked, and I realized she didn’t recognize me. That tracked. My hair was different. And of course, Will had never told her that the woman they’d run into in the hotel lobby five years ago was important to him. Someone she should remember.
“Is Will here?” I asked, keeping my voice level.
She looked over her shoulder. I glanced down and noticed she wore Will’s sweatpants. I’d gotten familiar with them last week and knew he owned several pairs. Her T-shirt was a men’s crew neck. In Will’s size.
A lump formed in my throat as a heaviness invaded my head, spreading to my fingertips.
“He just hopped in the shower,” she said. “Are you a tenant? I can give him a message.”
Her hair looked like she’d just come through a wind tunnel.
“Um, no. No message. I’ll catch him later, I guess.”
“Okay.” She shut the door in my face.
What. The. Hell? In slow motion, I made my way back to Bren’s apartment. Why was Rosalyn at Will’s apartment, looking so completely comfortable? Like she had every right to be there? The part of me that had been with him the past week knew there had to be an explanation. There had to be. No one was that good of an actor.
But even if there was a reason his ex-fiancée stood in his living room dressed in his clothes with messy hair while he showered—jeez, that sounded way worse when I laid it out like that in my head—it was the jolt I needed to remind me we would never move forward until he dealt with the hangovers from his past. Rosalyn in his life. Keeping secrets from his parents. Standing up to all of them.
Yesterday! He’d told me only yesterday that he’d protect my heart, that I wouldn’t regret opening up to him. Yet here I was, already with a lump in my throat, blindsided.
Five years later. Same shit, different day.
I went back to my donation piles.
I needed to finish sorting out what would be coming home with me.