Chapter 21 #2
He winked at me. “When you’re having ice cream during, but wait.
If it’s not like that…” He trailed off, then swiped his tongue across his lips and looked at me like he was sure I was an alien.
“If you’re so concerned about just kissing Kate and it’s been five years, that means…
” He trailed off again. “Five years. Jesus. Fuck. I’d be cranky too.
It’s no wonder, but a lot of things are suddenly making sense to me. ”
“Will.”
“What?” His eyebrows lifted. “That wasn’t important? Not what she looked like or any kind of physical anything? She’s never even sent you a single naughty picture to—”
“No,” I said defensively. “That wasn’t what it was about.”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee. “So how do you know you’re not being catfished by a middle-aged man from the Midwest named Gary who collects model trains?”
“We’ve spoken on the phone,” I argued. “I’ve heard her voice.”
Even as I said it though, Kate’s laugh cracked through my brain, the cackling witch sound she made when she was making fun of me. It was so vivid in my head that I almost flinched. Will, obviously, noticed.
“You look nauseated,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
He snorted. “You’re not fine.”
“She’s real,” I insisted, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms. “I trust her.”
“Do you? Or did you have your little spy look into her?”
I scoffed. “I don’t have a spy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your hacker. Whatever you call him. Or her. Have you asked the person who occasionally gets information for us to look into this Emma of yours?”
“Absolutely not. That would’ve been a massive violation of trust.”
“And marrying someone you can’t stand while secretly maintaining a five-year anonymous relationship is, what, exactly?”
“Don’t,” I warned.
He held up both hands. “Just asking for purposes of clarification.”
“I love Emma,” I said stubbornly. “I thought I did, anyway.”
He watched me carefully. “When did that change?”
“It hasn’t changed,” I snapped automatically, but when he just kept waiting me out instead of responding, I finally sighed. “It just got complicated, is all.”
“Because of Kate.”
“Yeah. Because of Kate.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Because the thought of hurting Kate suddenly feels worse than losing something I’ve spent the last five years fucking building with someone else.”
His lips curved into something that looked like it wanted to become a smirk. “Interesting metric.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“I’m fascinated,” he corrected. “I never saw anything even remotely like this coming from you, bro. Me, maybe. But not you.”
I groaned, slumping back into the couch. “Do you want to know the worst part?”
“Oh, there’s a worst part. Fantastic.”
“I don’t even know her real name,” I muttered.
Will froze. “Excuse me?”
“She doesn’t know mine either,” I reminded him. “Except her real name could be Emma. I’ve never asked. I always just assumed it also came from her original username on the Discord after we moved over to email.”
“So let me get this straight, you’re engaged to one woman, who you just got bent out of shape over for kissing, while you’re also in love with another woman whose legal identity you do not know.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds weird.”
“There’s no other way to say it,” he burst out, grinning from ear to ear. “This is awesome, man. Seriously. Thank you.”
I exhaled harshly, rolling my head back to glare at the ceiling. “It never mattered. None of that stuff did. All this time, we’ve given each other space to just be ourselves and it’s incredible.”
“It’s not incredible anymore?”
I shook my head. “It matters now. Everything does. If I marry Kate—”
“If?”
“When,” I corrected unconvincingly, but he let it slide this time. “When I marry Kate, I won’t even know who I’m leaving behind.”
He kept staring at me for another long beat, then gave a curt nod. “In that case, the answer is obvious.”
I groaned. “I hate when you do that.”
“You need to meet Emma.”
“I tried.”
“No,” he said, pointing at me. “You tried to run away with her. That’s not the same thing.”
I opened my mouth but then shut it when he kept talking. “If nothing else, you have to meet her so I’ll know how this shit show ends.”
I frowned at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Nah. I’m just invested now.”
“I’m leaving,” I muttered, pushing off the couch again.
“Take a breath,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Call her and ask to meet someplace public. A bar. A club. The fucking library. This is Chicago. It’s your turf. Just pick a place and tell her to meet you there.”
I paused. “We were going to do that earlier, but she canceled.”
“Sure, but she said she’s here for work, right? Maybe she was just stuck in a meeting. It’s late now. If she shows, great. You get answers. If she cancels again, then she’s not real and you can start therapy.”
“I do not need therapy.”
“You absolutely need therapy,” he said without hesitation. “Probably regardless of how this plays out.”
I exhaled slowly, tension leaking out of my shoulders as logic started settling into place. “You’re right.”
He smirked. “I know.”
“I need to meet her. Actually meet her.”
“Correct.”
Will leaned back, seemingly satisfied until he suddenly tilted his head again and let out a long sigh. “That only leaves us with one more question. What are you going to do about your feelings for your future wife?”
Unfortunately, that question was a lot harder to answer than anything else he’d said tonight.