34. I deserve love
34
I DESERVE LOVE
F or what seems like hours, I wait for Will to come up the stairs, back pressed against my front door. When I hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, I squeeze my eyes shut and press the palms of my hands to the frame. On the other side, I hear Will take a steadying, deep breath before knocking gently.
I take one as well.
My hand trembles as it wraps around the doorknob, heart racing and twisting as I pull the door open.
And there he is.
Will Jacobs in all his glory.
Handsome. So handsome.
Dark curls damp from the late spring showers. Chocolate brown eyes cautious, staring up at me through thick lashes. Kind and full of… something —something I don’t know whether I want to name, since I’m not quite sure whether I want it or not. Whether I’m ready to receive it.
Will puffs my name from his lungs, like he’s been trying to keep it in for the longest time. “ Bridget. You look…”
I look down at myself, try to see what he’s seeing. But it’s just me. In my sweats.
“Like a slob?” I blush.
“Perfect. You look perfect. I love you in those sweats. It’s you.” There’s a slight ache in his voice that seems to match the one in my heart. A longing that drains every last bit of my energy at the end of the day.
My face twists in half pleasure, half embarrassment. “You caught me off guard.” In more ways than one.
“I—Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me, and I brought something for you and—” He sighs and shakes his head. “How’s your wrist, by the way?”
This is awkward.
I look down at my left hand and twist it in the air. “Good. It was just a sprain, so I had it wrapped up for just a couple of weeks. All back to normal.” I give him some spirit fingers, which makes him smile tightly.
So awkward.
He makes a little frustrated groan noise. “We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. I can leave now. Leave you alone to your dinner. And to this.” He laughs once, sheepish, nervous, as he hands me my takeout and a blue bakery box with the words Annie Rose Cookie Designs on top .
I gasp.
“You got me Annie Rose cookies?” I ask, practically tossing my dinner onto the kitchen counter, hunger completely forgotten, so I can properly hold the luxurious box with two hands. I don’t want to risk dropping it and breaking what’s bound to be a set of the most gorgeous cookies inside. I stare at it in awe, admiring the shimmering box and silver foil logo.
“I did, yes.” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “I, uh, actually reached out to her a few months ago, but was only able to get her to make these last week. She has a massive waitlist. Turns out you were right: there is such a thing as a cookie influencer.”
“I told you,” I say with a small smile.
He smiles back. “You did. And it was a little crazy to me to see how in-demand she is for commissions.” He laughs once.
My eyes snap up to him. “Commissions? You had these commissioned? You didn’t buy her regular designs?”
Will looks down at the box, rolling his lips with his brows pulled together. “No, I didn’t buy her regular designs,” he says quietly. “I asked her to do something special. For you. For us , actually. They were meant to be a gift for when I—” But he cuts himself off. “But it doesn’t matter now.”
“For when you what?”
Will clears his throat once and meets my gaze, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “I signed up months ago before I blew things up between us. I was going to give them to you when… When I said I love you for the first time. It was something I had planned out, but then… Well, you know what happened.”
I look down at the box again, my throat constricting. God, what is it about him and us and this that makes it impossible for me to breathe?
“Either way, they wouldn’t have been ready on time. I was practically bursting at the seams before our fight, trying not to say it before I could get off the waitlist. There was no way I was going to last another week before I blurted it out, let alone a couple of months.” He huffs. “I’m not ecstatic about how it came out—I would’ve rather accidentally told you in the middle of making love to you or a romantic moment instead of while I was begging for forgiveness.” He sighs and shakes his head while I remember how awful hearing him say he loved me back felt. It wasn’t supposed to be that way. It wasn’t supposed to be in a situation where he was trying to apologize for hiding part of who he was.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say.
I want to ask more questions—the kinds that have been burning inside me after weeks of mutual radio silence. Mostly, I want to ask whether he still feels the same way. But what does it mean that I want him to still feel the same way? What does it mean that of everything I need clarification on, this is the one thing that screams above all others?
“These must’ve cost you a fortune,” I say.
“They were more than worth it.”
Right. I forgot he’s probably loaded—CFO and all that.
“I guess you can afford it.” Immediately I grimace because I didn’t mean to bring it up—I really didn’t. But the ease with which he was able to drop what is likely to be a couple thousand dollars on just cookies (because no matter what Will thinks, Annie Rose is a big deal) just serves as a reminder of his lies. Or omissions.
He huffs once, frustrated. “You know I’m not that guy, right? I may have… misled you about my job, but I’m not the type of guy to give a shit about money. The car and driver, the fancy apartment—yes, there was a fancy apartment, and yes, that’s why we always stayed at yours—those were paid for by the company. And any money I made all went into paying off my mother’s medical debt and growing a savings account in case of emergencies. I’m not—” He stops to run his hands through his hair. “I’m not like that. I’m not that guy. I don’t care about fancy shit. Yes , I spent a lot of money on these cookies. But I’m crazy about you—fucking gone in love with you—and this qualified as an emergency to me.”
I can’t help the small, cautious smile that spreads across my face. “I know you’re not that guy, Will. I know who you are.”
He inhales sharply, because he knows what I said carries more weight than it would’ve just a few months ago.
“You do?”
I sigh, defeated. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“I never used my powers for evil, Bridge. Except— Except maybe once.”
I raise a brow, surprised. “Once?”
“I— I may have told Sartoria that the only way Stevenson would drop the lawsuit after that whole tariffs fuck up is if they hired you back.”
I gasp. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “I know it was super bad and manipulative, but I felt awful, and I couldn’t believe that something that had nothing to do with you ended up costing you your job. You didn’t deserve that. I knew you loved working there and were probably devastated about losing your job. I wanted it to be the last thing I got done before leaving my official post as CFO. It was manipulative and gross, but I figured you weren’t speaking to me anymore, so…” He shrugged. “I wanted to use my evil powers to make you happy, Bridge.”
For some reason, this makes me laugh. The thought of Sartoria’s corporate offices freaking out over having to find and rehire a fired assistant in order to avoid a lawsuit gives me more satisfaction than it should.
“My friend Molly mentioned being pulled into a meeting with HR to get me to come back. But they never called.”
He grins. “I know. When I saw you posted a photo on Instagram with the caption ‘First Day at new job!’ or something like that, I called it off. You looked really happy—happier than I ever saw you at Sartoria when things were still good.”
“Did you guys sue them?”
“Nah. We paid the fines and they covered the loss. Everything ended up okay. In that regard, I mean.”
I ignore that last comment when I suddenly realize something. “Wait, hold on. So you have an Instagram, now? I thought you were fully off socials.”
He looks like he extremely regrets telling me this. “It’s new. I don’t really post anything.”
“I haven’t seen any follow notifications in a while…”
“I don’t. Follow you, that is. If I did, I’d be stuck to my phone all day. But I do check up on you,” he explains. “I wasn’t trying to go all creepy stalker. But I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He pauses while I gawk at him. “And now that I hear myself say it out loud, I realize how creepy I sound.”
Surprising myself, I laugh once more. “A little bit. But kind of cute.”
Now that surprises him.
“Do you like your new job?” he asks.
My smile is big and genuine. “Love it.”
“Good,” he says, smiling back.
“What about you? What are you going to do now that your time at Stevenson is done?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I look forward to finding out.”
I nod, loving this journey of self-exploration he’s embarked on. He deserves it, no matter what anyone says. Including himself.
Will looks at me with a wistful smile before speaking again. “Anyway, I guess I’ll leave these cookies here with you and—Wait, what are you doing?” he asks in a panic when he sees me carrying the box over to the kitchen counter.
“Opening the box, obviously.”
“Can you wait ’til I’m gone, please? It’s— They’re a little embarrassing. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy and?—”
“Not a chance.”
“Bridget, please . I don’t want?—”
But it’s too late. I pull the lid off and?—
I gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth.
Speechless. Utterly speechless.
Because the second I pop the lid open, I see the most gorgeous collection of iced cookies. I don’t know if I’m biased because of its designs, but I’m pretty sure this is the best Annie Rose has ever produced.
“Will, I…” I shake my head, in shock. “Are these…?”
He takes a deep breath before answering. “They’re all special moments to us. Or things from our relationship that made me fall in love with you. Inside jokes, too,” he whispers.
“They’re… beautiful ,” I breathe. Beautiful is an understatement.
I can’t bring myself to look at Will, but I feel him shrug beside me, his breathing faster than it should be. “Yeah.” His voice comes out a little mangled—unnatural.
My hands hover over the icing paintings of different things we’ve shared together, too scared to pick one of the cookies up and accidentally drop them. Like I’d destroy the memories I’ve treasured so much in my heart if I did.
An extremely detailed cookie of Ginger in her green tufted chair—my heart grows two sizes, leaving me wondering how that’s even possible when I haven’t been able to get a full breath in weeks.
A Star Trek logo painted in edible gold that has my cheeks blazing red at the memory of what we did on his bed.
Two friendship bracelets, one on top of the other, with BFF beads on them that remind me of the best friend I ever had.
A bowl of chocolatey cereal makes me snort, the way he serves himself one of my favorite Will quirks.
Cartoon figures of a man and a woman—Will and me—cuddling in bed with an orange cat on the edge—perfect mornings together that had me wishing for more days like that.
The same couple standing with their faces close together, a floral dress similar to the one I wore that first night we met in real life—the night we first made love.
And a pop-up window with a sentence from one of the first emails he sent me where he called me a breath of fresh air, taking me back to all those months ago. When I was lonely, when I still had Molly but didn’t feel understood. When I was finally getting my life together but hadn’t yet met the stranger who would change it for the better. Who would make me feel seen. Who would steal my heart and soul, when I would’ve given it to him willingly, anyway.
Will.
“I—I know they’re a little corny,” he says in a low voice. “In retrospect, maybe I should’ve cancelled the commission because of everything. But I just couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I manage to say in a whisper. “They’re incredible.”
I pick up the cookie with the email reverently, my eyes tearing up.
He sighs beside me, both of us carefully inspecting the fine details in the lettering, the perfect blend of colors. “Even then,” his whisper is deep, with an ache to it. “Even then I knew, Bridge. I knew you were special. I knew you were going to save me.”
I don’t dare breathe, because I’m scared of what I might say if I have enough oxygen in my lungs.
“I understand why you dumped me. Believe me, I do. If some other guy would’ve done this to you, I would’ve—” He tenses, and I look over to find his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain. “You deserve better.”
When he finally looks at me, we stare quietly at each other for a moment. As his eyes travels all over my face, I wonder whether he’s getting his last fill before I ask him to leave my apartment—and my life—forever.
Except that I don’t think that’s what I want anymore. I don’t think that’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice breaking, Molly’s words suddenly making more sense than anything ever has. “I do deserve better. You taught me that. To stop settling.”
Will swallows, his eyes full of hurt. “Yes, I did. And I still believe that, Bridge. I’m not gonna—” He sighs, frustrated. “I’m not here to try to convince you to come back to me. To forgive me and let me love you for the rest of our lives, no matter how badly I want to. I know what I did. And what I didn’t do, for that matter. I know I hurt you and fucked everything up, and I love you enough to know you deserve better.” He pauses. “I will always love you. And I will always pick you over my own happiness.”
“So you agree? That I deserve not to settle? That I deserve to be happy, no matter what?”
“ Yes . Always. Of course, Bridge.”
“Then why are you pushing me away?” The first tear of what I suspect will be many streams down my cheeks. “If you want me to be happy—if you want me not to settle—then why are you pushing me to lead a life without you in it?”
Will’s eyes widen, slack-jawed. “What?”
“I—I was angry, Will. Am still angry, a little, I think. But… I love you.”
“You… love me?” He takes a careful step forward.
“Yes,” I say between soft sobs. “Yes, very much. And I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to go away anytime soon. Maybe ever. I tried for a while and…” I shake my head. “It didn’t work. I didn’t like it.”
“Bridge.”
“And while you were… a total dick . I get that intent matters. I can understand where you were coming from. It was stupid and moronic, but I can see why you were scared. And maybe because of it, you don’t deserve me. Maybe because of it someone on the outside looking in might say that you don’t get to have the woman you love. But see, I think it’s about time the universe be kind to me . And I think it’s high time I get what I deserve. And I deserve love, for once. I choose love. And I’m pretty damn sure that you will make me happy, if I give you the chance. Because I know that after this whole thing, you’ll never lie to me again, will you, Will?”
“Never, Bridge. I will never fucking lie to you or keep something from you ever again, Bridget Quinn.” He tentatively reaches out, his hands hovering over my waist, trembling from holding back.
Will looks like he’s seen a ghost. It’s clear from the expression on his face he cannot compute this is happening, and honestly, part of me can’t either. But at the end of the day, the person who needs to decide whether she can live with it, whether she can forgive, is me. No one else. And just like I told Molly, some people deserve second chances. And he definitely does. Just because he made one mistake doesn’t negate all the other times he came through for me. All the other times he was a wonderful friend and partner and lover. And I’m not about to throw that all away over a fight.
With a wet laugh, I take his hands in mine and wrap them around my waist, behind my back, pulling him to me.
“So what do you say? Do you think we can finally turn my luck around?” I press my lips to his chin, smile against his skin as I inhale his scent.
“Baby, I swear to you I will spend the rest of my goddamn life doing everything possible to give you the world.”
“I don’t want the world, Will. I just want us.”
“And Ginger.”
“Duh.”