Chapter 7 #2
“Not personally,” Katherine says. “Though I’ve seen a lot of movies where a guy looks at a woman and I can tell he’s really into her, and I always think to myself, Man, I wish that were me.”
“You wish you were in a movie?” Brielle teases.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying! Why are you being so obtuse?”
Brielle giggles. “Oh, Katherine, I was just joking. I want a man, as well.”
“Girls, we’re all single, so let’s not get it twisted. None of us has a man. We’re all just trying to get by and save money and finally buy our hotel,” I remind them both.
“I know,” Katherine says. “Sigh, but you’re closer to having a real boyfriend.”
“Not quite.”
“I do have some news, though.”
“Oh? What’s that?” I ask.
“I spoke to Stacy down at the pizza joint on 5th Street, and she says I can work on Fridays, delivering pizza. She says it’s about a hundred dollars in tips on Friday nights, so I’m going to do it.”
“Oh, man,” I say. “I thought Friday night was going to be our night. For the three of us.”
“I know, but we need to make more money. I don’t know how much longer I can keep working for Charlotte. She called me when I was at work today, and she was such a bitch.” Katherine sounds pissed. “If she weren’t your cousin and out of town so much, I would have told her off and quit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I groan. “I wish I could say something to her.”
“But I know that you can’t. She doesn’t care. Her mother, Mildred, should really say something, but no. Now that Charlotte’s won the lottery for a second time, she’s kissing her ass even more.” Katherine’s voice is louder. “How did that bitch get so lucky?”
“I know. I wish she’d share the lottery numbers with me,” I say, giggling as I pull up to the driveway. “Hey, I’m parking. I’ll be up to the apartment in a little bit. Pour a glass of wine for me, okay?”
“Okies,” Katherine teases, and we hang up.
I park the car, turn off the ignition, and sit there with my thoughts for a few moments. I’m excited to see my friends, excited to be with them, but I just need to be by myself and think.
I stare down at my hands—the hands that were clasped in Sebastian’s just hours before.
I look into the rearview mirror and stare at my face.
I’m still slightly flushed from the cool night air.
My blue eyes look tired, my mascara almost gone.
I touch my lips lightly, lips that touched Sebastian’s just a few hours ago.
I close my eyes and think of his firm embrace, the way I squeezed his muscles as I slid down to the ground, the way he’d held me, the way he’d looked at me.
And every so often, there were moments of silence, where I’d catch him staring at me, his eyes full of a question I wish I knew the answer to.
He is an enigma. Someone I hadn’t even heard of just a week ago, and yet he swept into my life like a hurricane, bringing with him strong winds and powerful emotions. If I’m not careful, he’ll sweep me up and carry me away to places I never knew existed.
I want to go with it. I want to listen to my friends and just enjoy the moment, enjoy it for what it is.
But another part of me is scared. Another part doesn’t understand, doesn’t feel good enough.
I’m not on his level. I am Willow Montgomery.
I barely have a couple of hundred dollars in my bank account.
My credit card won’t even get me a ticket to the other side of the world even if I desperately needed it to.
Sebastian is the sort of man who lives in penthouses and flies first class.
He probably has drivers and chefs and housekeepers. I am the cook. I am the cleaner.
Stop, Willow. I bite down on my lower lip. Stop talking down about yourself. Be positive.
“You’re a good person,” I whisper to myself.
“You are beautiful. You are kind. You are smart. You are a good friend. You are warm. You are compassionate. You are patient. You are loyal. Just because you are not rich, it doesn’t mean you’re less than.
” I feel sad for a moment. I look out the window, up at the stars above.
I wonder if my parents are looking down at me.
I close my eyes and imagine them hugging me, embracing me.
I love my friends, and I know they love me with everything they have—they’d do anything for me.
But sometimes, I just want to feel my parents touching me, holding me, telling me how much they love me, protecting me, guiding me.
I feel so alone at times, and so scared.
That is an emotion I didn’t realize I carried for so long, but I feel it now.
Fear. I am scared of the unknown. I am scared of change.
I am scared that Sebastian will leave my life as quickly as he came into it.
He makes me feel so special, making this connection, and it is surreal.
Things like this don’t happen to people like me, especially not so quickly.
But I know that sometimes they do. There are whirlwind relationships. Almost every romance book I’ve ever read has some form of insta-love. Even the movies I’ve watched have people falling in love fast.
Not that Sebastian is falling in love with me—I’m not crazy. He probably just wants to sleep with me. But still, it feels intoxicating. It feels like my life is changing, and finally, in a good way.
I take a deep breath and smile to myself. I grab my handbag, open the door, and step out. I’m ready for my glass of wine now. I close the door, lock the car, and my phone starts ringing. Unfortunately, I answer it before checking to see who it is.
“Hey,” the familiar voice says, and I try not to groan. It’s Clark Kent. I really should have blocked his number. I have no interest in speaking to him.
“Oh, hi,” I say, my voice stilted.
“I’ve been texting and calling you,” he says, sounding annoyed. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, I’ve been working really hard. You know how it goes.”
“I do. I work in insurance and as such, I’m always busy,” he says. “But I needed you tonight.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, not wanting to be mean. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong.
“Yeah, I have a large stack of laundry and—”
“Sorry, what?” I interrupt quickly. There is no way he’s saying what I think he’s saying, is there?
“I have a large stack of laundry that needs to be dried and then ironed.”
“Are you joking right now?” I say, practically laughing. “You are not for real.”
“What do you mean, am I joking?” he snaps. “I’m used to my girlfriend doing my laundry, and I think you really need to be a little more—”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” I say quickly. “We met once.”
“We were talking on the phone for two months, and we cemented our relationship when we met at the coffee shop. It’s not my fault you had to rush off in an emergency. You’re lucky I’m even giving you a second chance.”
“I’m lucky you’re giving me a second chance? What? Look, Clark—or whatever your name is—”
“Is it because you prefer Batman?” he interrupts.
“What?” HUH?
“Look, I have a Batman cape, as well. In fact, I—”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” I cut in, “but I’m not interested. I don’t think we should talk anymore.”
“What? Are you kidding me? Are you really going to be a bitch and treat me like a punk?”
“I’m so confused. I’m not treating you like anything. I’m just not in a place to be in a relationship right now.” I don’t tell him that I’m not attracted to him, or that he needs to let the superhero thing go because he’s not six years old anymore.
“I think we really need to talk in person, Willow,” he insists. “Because I think you’ve misunderstood my intentions. I’m not just looking to bang. I also want to take you out for expensive meals at Denny’s or IHOP. I also want to—”
“Hey, I really have to go, I’m sorry.” I hang up and quickly block his number. I take a deep breath. The world is really going mad. Completely mad. I walk up the stairs to the apartment and open the door.
Katherine and Brielle are sitting on the couch, glasses of wine in their hands. They look up at me and both smile with that lazy, slow look that tells me they are drunk.
“Why do you look like that?” Katherine asks..
“Clark Kent just called me, and the man is crazy, literally crazy. He wanted me to go over to his place and do his laundry, and he said I was his girlfriend.”
“You see what I mean? All the men want you. This is the season of Willow.” Brielle says, jumping up and handing me a glass of red wine. “This is for you.”
“Thank you,” I say as I take a long, deep sip. I feel the warm liquid go down my throat, and I smile, grateful. “I really needed this.”
“Men are crazy. That’s why if you meet one that’s not as crazy, you might as well have fun.” She stares at me. “And that Sebastian sounds like he’s fun.”
“You know what? I will say that he’s gorgeous, and compared to Clark Kent, he’s actually sane.”
“He hasn’t asked you to do his laundry?” Katherine says with a grin.
“Not once.” I laugh.
“Maybe he’s special,” Katherine says. “Maybe he really is your reward for kissing a lot of frogs.”
“Thank God I didn’t kiss Clark Kent,” I say, shuddering. “I would’ve had to throw up.”
“That bad?”
“You know that he was,” I say, staring at them. “I love you girls. I want to thank you for always having my back. I want to thank you for supporting me and giving me advice.”
“We’ll always be here for you, bitch,” Katherine says, raising her glass.
I laugh softly. “I was thinking about my mom tonight.” I stare at them, and they both offer me soft and supportive glances. “I was wondering what advice she’d give me.”
“And what advice do you think she’d give you?” Brielle asks softly.
“I think she’d tell me to go for it,” I say with a small smile.
“There aren’t many stories I know about my parents, but I will always remember the fact that they met at a fair, and my dad asked her to be his girlfriend the same day he met her.
” I smile at the memory. “And he proposed to her a month later. Another month later, they were married. Maybe it’s a sign.
Maybe for women in my family, things just happen fast. I mean, I don’t know, but maybe… ”
“Why don’t you get your mom’s ring, and maybe its aura will provide comfort and guidance?” Katherine says. “It’s on your nightstand, isn’t it?”
I nod, loving the idea. I have a photo of my parents and me on my nightstand, along with a gold necklace that my grandma wore and then gave to my mom, and my mom’s engagement ring.
I still remember when Charlotte tried to take it.
I still remember how I cried and begged my aunt Mildred to let me keep it when I was fourteen.
For a few moments, I didn’t think she was going to let me—she spoiled Charlotte so much—but something in her changed, and she said I could have it. I’ve kept it close to me ever since.
“You know what? That’s a good idea,” I say as I head to my bedroom.
I pick up the ring and slide it onto my right hand, staring down at it.
It’s beautiful. The band is twenty-four karat gold, and the 1.
2 carat diamond glitters. I hold it between my fingers and rub it gently.
My dad had saved up for a long time to buy my mom this ring.
“I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Dad,” I whisper. “I hope that wearing this ring will bring me good luck and a much better man than Clark Kent, because I cannot be dealing with losers like that anymore.”
I laugh to myself as I head back into the living room.
“You girls want to watch TV?” I ask.
“We can watch TV after you tell us some more about this Sebastian,” Brielle says as we all settle down on the couch. “I want to hear everything about him.”
“I will tell you guys everything.” I settle onto the couch and take a sip of my wine. “He’s a wonderful enigma. He makes me feel like a million dollars, and he may very well be by my North Star.” I smile at the thought. Could Sebastian Laurence really be my one?