Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Will: She seems fine
Josie: Fine how?
Will: Fine like I wouldn’t have questioned a thing if you hadn’t said something
Josie: what are you guys talking about
Will: the price of tea in china
Josie: haha no but for real
Will: instead of micromanaging how about you read my research? I worked very hard on that packet for you, Josephine
Josie: well, you did promise to work harder for me than you’ve ever worked on anything before
Josie: sorry, that sounded flirty
Josie: or maybe I made that up in my head and now I’ve just embarrassed myself
Will: read the research
That afternoon, the three of us head over to South Congress to check out Revenant’s first storefront. We’re still searching for a replacement for Margaret (whom Cami ended up letting go after the pop-up, with a generous severance package), but once that person is hired, they’ll be in charge of this place.
I didn’t invite Will, which means Cami had to have done so. We grab lunch at Torchy’s Tacos beforehand.
“Where do you live?” Cami asks Will.
“A loft in Tribeca,” he answers, sipping on his soda between bites. “It’s not far from the Ellis office. I’ve lived there for almost five years. I love that apartment.”
“What’s your favorite thing about Manhattan?” she asks next.
“The food,” Will answers quickly. “Trying new restaurants. But the food scene in Austin is great, too.”
“You and David really would get along splendidly,” Cami says.
Will’s eyes flash to mine. I’ve been watching him nonstop this entire meal, but I finally glance away.
The harmony of his presence here is so easy, so natural, it’s borderline alarming. Possibly because the Will Grant I used to know didn’t talk easily with anyone, not even his sister or his dad, and definitely not me. But this Will has the flow of a river current as he eases himself into our day.
The building we’re renting for the store is in the middle stretch of the South Congress shopping district. Out front, the Revenant sign has already been hung up along with decals on the window that read Coming Soon!
“I love it,” Cami says, hands over her heart. We’re standing on the opposite sidewalk, admiring the sign before a walk-through. She turns to me, her eyes wide. “Can you believe it, J? I know this store is small potatoes compared to the online business, but it just feels really—”
“Special,” I finish. Over her shoulder, I can see Will watching me. “I know what you mean. Five years ago, I’d just accepted that I couldn’t keep up with orders anymore and hired my first manufacturer.”
“ Six years ago,” she says, “I quit my first big-girl job at Whole Foods to become your marketing director.”
“A position you made up,” I clarify.
“A company you made up!” she rebuts. Cami laughs, bolting across the street. I tense as I check for cars. “Take my picture!”
Dutifully, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of her posing in front of the sign. She does a jumping jack, blows a kiss.
Will shifts beside me as Cami heads for the front door, keys in hand.
“You know what?” he says. “Camila seems pretty damn happy.”
My reply is a noncommittal noise that stays lodged in the back of my throat.
Inside the store, the fixtures have already been placed, the racks drilled into the walls. I wander toward the back room where the inventory is boxed up. I grab a steamer and start humming Lizzy McAlpine, de-wrinkling clothes just to busy my hands, listening to Will’s low tones and Cami’s excited drawl as they talk out front.
I feel more than see him meet me in the back five minutes later—the sound of his gait, the weight of his breath, the crackle of air making room for him.
“You ever work in a retail store?” Will asks.
“That’s a personal question,” I say.
I turn to him, my head tilting up. Neither of us bothered to turn on the lights, and shadows are folding across his face. “Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but.
“The summer before I went to college,” I answer anyway, since Will spent most of lunch talking about his own personal life and I devoured his answers while Cami asked endless questions about New York. What tourist attractions are actually worth it, does he go to comedy shows, if he ever gets claustrophobic (more so these days, he answered). “I steamed every item before it went on sale that summer.”
“So steaming is what you’re known for.”
I snort. “Steaming is therapeutic.” I put the steamer down and move the dress to a rack.
Will’s shoulders curve as he moves to face me. “In all the press I’ve read about you, you always credit your oma with inspiring your love of fashion.”
I toss him a look. “All the press you’ve read about me? It wasn’t just the one profile?”
He shrugs. “Had to figure out what you were known for.”
“As you said, steaming.”
“I’ll be sure to tell the journalists.”
His mention of Oma conjures the smell of licorice tea, the feel of diving my hands into a giant tin of loose buttons.
I cross to the other wall and lean against it, my hands behind my back.
Do you want to tell me about her? Will had asked me that night on the beach.
“Oma was amazing. When I was growing up, my parents would drop me off at her house and we’d spend the day going to the fabric store, picking out a pattern, and then designing something and sewing it ourselves. A purse, a pair of pajamas, a pillowcase, even doll clothes. My American Girl doll had a better closet than I did.”
His smile is soft. “Why didn’t your family have a funeral service for her?”
“She was wholly against it,” I answer, chuckling. “She said nothing would make her roll over in her grave faster than gathering a bunch of people who felt obligated to grieve her in her least favorite color. We did a small family thing instead. But how did you know that?”
“Zoe and I looked it up to see if we could go.” Will says this offhandedly, like it’s not vital information.
“You guys would have gone?” I ask.
Will nods, scratching underneath his jaw. “Zoe felt pretty guilty about yelling at us after I told her about your oma and my breakup. She was embarrassed. Still a little angry and hurt, too, but yeah. She was planning to go to the funeral. So was I.”
I blink rapidly, tears smarting in my eyes. I never considered Zoe was afraid she’d hurt my feelings. That day she’d come by my desk and muttered I’m really sorry about your oma under her breath—had that been her white flag?
But why hadn’t she mentioned the letter? Why hadn’t she waited for me to say anything back before she walked on?
Why were we so bad at communicating?
It’s almost like we were hormonal teenagers or something.
“That means a lot to me,” I say.
I pull out my phone and find a picture of Oma, tilting the phone screen in Will’s direction. “This is her in an outfit that inspired what’s now called the Always Blouse for women. It was one of the first things I ever designed under the Revenant brand name.”
Will looks at the picture. His smile curves farther up toward his eyes, cheeks lifting. “I see the resemblance.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. You’re both so elegant.”
My cheeks warm. “Oma once told me sweating wasn’t acceptable.”
Will laughs. It sounds like trouble.
“Do you still do any of the designs?” He nods at the photo.
“I help if they want my opinion. To make sure the new designs are aligned with the brand, and whatnot. But our designers are very good. Better than me, and far more educated on that stuff.”
He leans against the opposite wall of the narrow back room, arms crossing over his chest while one of his feet catches on his other ankle. For a while neither of us says a word. We only stand there, parsing each other.
“Will?” I ask.
His eyes glint. “Hmm?”
“What happened to your parents’ marriage?”
He smirks. “We’re not very good at the rules, are we?”
I’ve never had a hard time with discipline except when it came to social media. I’d tell myself to stop scrolling and wouldn’t listen. I’d tell myself it wasn’t real and become convinced it was the only real thing.
Now, I realize, there’s a second area where I’m undisciplined.
Him.
“Just this rule,” I say. “We can unwrite it.”
Will sighs and pushes his fingers through his hair. Not with annoyance. More like he’s bracing himself.
“We didn’t move to Nashville when Zoe and I were seniors because my dad got a better job. I mean, that’s what he told us, but it wasn’t the full story.”
“What’s the full story?” I ask quietly.
“He had a mistress in Nashville,” Will explains. His voice drops impossibly low. “It had been going on for five years by the time Dad moved our whole family to be near her.” He shakes his head and laughs dully. “He thought he could have it all. His wife and mistress in the same city. Kids at one house, a new labradoodle puppy at the other.”
“Your dad’s mistress had a labradoodle?” I clarify.
“Yeah, and it was fucking cute. He would never have let us get a labradoodle. Too expensive,” Will goes on. “He didn’t let us have a dog at all because Zoe and I couldn’t keep our guinea pigs from attacking each other when we were six.” He rolls his eyes at the ceiling, like after all this time, the sting has gone out of his dad’s betrayal and now he can see the humor.
I smile but it’s a weak attempt. “When did you all find out?”
Will’s expression switches from mildly beleaguered to downright miserable. “Um. Actually, I found out before Zoe and my mom did.”
I pause. “You kept his secret.”
Will palms at the back of his neck. He glances sideways. “Mm. Yeah.”
“How long?” I ask, horrified.
Will’s discomfort is coming out of his ears at this point, but he answers quickly. “The whole school year.”
Everything, all at once, immediately clicks into place.
Will Grant—Zoe’s moody, quiet, discontent twin brother. Who had just moved almost a thousand miles from home, who had been forced to leave his girlfriend and all his friends behind, only to discover it had all been for the sake of his father having a closer proximity to his mistress. No wonder he was sullen back then.
My hand flutters to my mouth. “Oh, Will.”
His face is pained now, open and raw. “I caught them together almost immediately. It was at Centennial Park. I was running—training so I could try out for the football team—and my dad and his mistress were there with the puppy… kissing and stuff, on a blanket.” I can see the memory flash past his eyes. He blinks hard.
“Your dad asked you to keep his secret when you confronted him about it?”
Will’s eyes flick to mine. “How do you know I confronted him?”
I shrug. “I just do. You wouldn’t have let that go unsaid.”
“Lot of good it did me.” He shakes his head. “I was just a kid, and I’d always idolized my father. He convinced me…” Will blinks again, stretching out his neck. “He convinced me it was normal. Common. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He also said if I told my mom, I’d be ruining our family, that nothing would ever be the same again.”
A look of disgust crosses his face. He won’t meet my eyes now.
“You kept his secret all year?” I ask.
Will nods, his focus elsewhere. “It was like this physical wedge between me and my family. I was withdrawn. Even you could tell that. I knew it wasn’t normal, no matter how convincing my father tried to be. He started spoiling me as if my secret keeping was worth a reward. Flights home to Austin so I could see Amber and my friends. Titans tickets that autumn. A new bike for Christmas. But I was drowning, and it only got worse as time went on. I couldn’t look my mother in the eye without feeling like I was on the brink of a meltdown. But I couldn’t tell her the truth either, too scared of my father’s threat that I’d break our family apart. She knew something was wrong with me, but she thought it was the move, the transition. I couldn’t talk to Zoe about it, either. She hated me. I didn’t get why at the time—I chalked it up to hormones, I remember—” Will laughs softly. “But now I know it was because of Amber that Zoe was so distant. I didn’t even have the mental capacity to see the damage I’d done to that friendship.”
“Amber wasn’t a true friend, the way Zoe told it,” I say.
He finally looks at me. “Maybe that’s why you confused me so much. You and Zoe didn’t want me around like Amber had. I first thought it was because you knew you were a bad influence on Zoe, but actually, you two had more fun on your own.”
“Wait. You thought I was a bad influence?” I ask.
“Oh, the worst. I had absolutely no basis for that opinion other than you were beautiful and rich. I gave it up pretty quickly.”
“You did not.”
“I did, Josephine. But by that point, it was you who thought I was the bad influence. A mood-ruiner, I think you once called me.” He arches an eyebrow, and I flinch.
“Well, if I’d known what you were going through—”
Will shrugs. “I shouldn’t be pitied for keeping a cheater’s secret.”
I’m not entirely sure that’s true, especially given the emotional manipulation Will’s father put him through, but I don’t press the point. “So, what happened? Did you tell your family, or did they find out?”
“I told them. Well, I told Zoe first, and together, we told my mom.”
“When?”
He rubs a thumb over his lip. “A few days after you and I kissed. Funny enough, that was a catalyst to get me and Zoe talking again.”
“Well, at least there’s one bright spot,” I say.
Will studies me. “I was relieved, I won’t deny it. Relieved to have the secret off my chest. Relieved Zoe and I were on the same team again.”
And even though I’m genuinely happy our kiss had a roundabout effect of shrinking Zoe and Will’s estrangement, this means she didn’t have a friend when she got the news that her father had a mistress, that her family was about to get torn apart. And just on the cusp of her going to one college, Will going to another. Their whole family separating, a four-person unit split into singles.
Camila was right.
Zoe needed a friend, and I hadn’t fought hard enough. I needed a friend, and she hadn’t fought hard enough either. We were both too stubborn and embarrassed and insecure to be there for each other when it mattered most. When each of our families was splintering.
“I changed my mind,” I say to Will. “I do want you to give Zoe a message.”
His lips lift. “Okay. What’s the message?”
“Tell her I shouldn’t have given up on our friendship so easily.” I try to keep my voice firm, but it’s threaded with pent-up emotion. “Tell her I’m still sorry about the rest of it. But I’m especially sorry about that, too.”