29. PRESENT DAY – March
London, England
WILLOW HALE
“A m I underdressed?” I ask Garrison quietly, right after a suspender-clad hostess seats us at Lola Vine, a cool upscale pizza place in London that I’ve had my eye on for months. I was so excited about the atmosphere that I forgot to investigate people’s clothes off Yelp photos.
I glance down at my thin blue sweater and the unbuttoned plaid flannel I wear on top. And I’m in jeans. I could’ve selected nicer pants.
“Not to me.” Garrison scoots closer to the candlelit table. “But if anyone thinks you are, then I am too. We can be underdressed together.” He splays a moto jacket on the back of the velvet chair. A black tee molds his toned biceps, but I’m selfishly glad that he’s wearing jeans like me.
I smile more, not feeling as out of place.
Garrison adjusts his jacket for another second or two. Giddy energy flutters inside my stomach. I have a lot to be giddy about today.
The biggest one, Garrison is in London. Just seeing my boyfriend makes the weeks of dreaming about him feel real.
And we’re on a date. I still can’t believe he reserved a table here. Every time I wanted to go when he was in town, they’d been booked up for the whole week.
“What do you think so far?” Garrison asks, handing me a leather-bound menu. “As cool as you imagined?”
I realize that I’ve been staring at him more than the restaurant. Looking around, I soak up my surroundings: orange and purple velvet chairs and booths, swanky curved bar with fancy liquors, a mirrored ceiling, deep red carpet, and rouged drapes.
“Better.” I can’t stop smiling. “It feels like the Hellfire Club could exist in here.” A popular comic book site named ten restaurants that reminded them of the X-Men films, and Lola Vine was listed under X-Men: First Class. I was shocked a restaurant within distance of my college made the cut.
I wait for Garrison to make a joke like what’s the Hellfire Club? with mock confusion. After all his time working at Superheroes & Scones, I’m pretty sure he’d remember the clandestine society with Emma Frost as a member.
Garrison nods. “That’s good….really good.” His aquamarine eyes flit around the packed restaurant. I doubt anyone will recognize us with the lights dimmed to a dark, warm glow.
A waitress brings iced waters, tells us the specials, and leaves to give us time to order.
I peruse Garrison more than the menu. He’s acting sort of weird. He keeps scooting his chair closer, perching his elbow on and off the table.
“Is everything okay?” I push up my glasses.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He takes a hefty swig of water.
I shrug. Maybe I’m overthinking his jitters, but I’d like to think I know him really, really well. “I don’t know…are you sure nothing’s going on?”
He runs a hand through his brown hair. “No, nothing’s really going on.” He rests his arm on the back of the chair, trying to be more cool and collected.
I mean, he does look cool.
Tattoos on his bicep, hair falling back to his eyes, and bad boy persona like a well-worn cloak—but after all these years, I know better.
Garrison Abbey is good.
He just has a bad reputation.
One that’s been scrubbed clean by the people who love him most, the ones who gave him another chance, another shot.
I change the topic to movies after we order a margherita pizza and classic pepperoni. “I don’t think anything will ever top Avengers: End Game .” I sip my water.
Garrison is staring off behind me, then blinks to refocus on me. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Jake Gyllenhaal killed it as that Mysterio guy.”
Wrong movie.
We were talking about Spider-Man: Far From Home five minutes ago. I frown and open my mouth, about to ask if he’s okay again.
But quickly, he asks, “How’d the meeting with Lily and the attorneys go?”
Lily and the attorneys.
Giddiness returns, and it’s weird to think around this time, a whole year ago, I flew to Philly and ran into the hospital. Garrison’s appendix was removed. I was still living in the “party” flat. I was worried about my few friendships and my slipping grades.
A lot has happened in a year. While some things have stayed the same.
My lease ended, and I moved into a studio apartment close to campus. No roommates, which has helped boost my grades up to Bs and As.
And with my new place, it’s been easier keeping Sheetal and Tess as friends. They’ve been on-and-off as a couple all year, ever since Tess changed majors to theatre. But right now, they’re in a “firmly together” stage.
As for Salvatore, I haven’t really spoken much to him since I moved out, but we still share a lot of business classes and see each other.
It’s awkward, but I prefer awkward over the discomfort and bitter anger I started to feel towards him. Especially how he kept treating Garrison like trash.
Sheetal makes class with Salvatore more bearable. She’ll crack jokes before lectures, and the air always feels lighter.
But what Garrison is referencing—Lily and the attorneys—is more recent.
“I figured Lily already told you how it went,” I say, since Garrison is still living in her home with Lo and their kids.
“Yeah, but it’s not you telling me,” Garrison says like hearing me makes all the difference.
My smile tugs higher. “Okay, so it looks like franchising Superheroes & Scones is one-hundred percent a go, and then I pitched the idea of opening up a London branch.”
His mouth parts in a little shock. “London?”
I frown, realizing Lily must’ve left this out. “I didn’t go into the franchise meeting thinking London would come out of my mouth, but Lily asked me , ‘If you opened up a store, which city would you choose?’ ”
He shakes his head, confused. “Why London, though? You could’ve said…New York City or Pittsburgh.”
“I don’t know New York or Pittsburgh that well,” I say softly. “London has been my home for over two years, and I understand the market and the streets and people. I feel confident I could open a store here, if given the chance.”
Garrison gazes at the flickering candle, his thoughts swirling.
I scoot closer now, my pulse haywire. “Even if I open a London branch, Lily said I could be in charge of opening more locations.” My voice is too quiet, and in this tender way, he asks me to repeat.
So I do, and I add, “She’s offering me a job when I graduate.
Like a corporate-level, high-paying position that I hope…
I hope I can be ready for, but it sounds like a dream… ”
Putting my business degree to good use while being surrounded by superheroes and comics every day—I couldn’t ask for a better career.
I wait for him to reply, holding my breath. “Garrison?”
“You’ll be good at it,” he says, certain of this fact. “I know you will be.”
“I could suck.”
“No.” He has so much faith in me that my heart ascends to new levels. “You’re smart, Willow, and you’re so passionate about business and comics. It makes perfect sense.”
I scrutinize the slight dip of his mouth. “But…?” There has to be a but coming.
“But what does this mean for us?” He grimaces. “And I feel like a cock bringing myself into this and dampening the happiness of your career path.”
“It’s not dampened,” I say with a peeking smile. “And I’d hope you’d think about what this means for us…because I’d rather there be an us to think about, you know?” Giddiness , a strange kind of giddy ignites.
Maybe because he’s smiling again. “Alright, that’s good then.” He looks me over, his eyes carrying gentle affection. “What about us? You want to live in London full-time after graduation?”
“I’d rather just fly back every now and then. I know the paparazzi is nuts in Philly, but I miss it there. I miss everyone.”
Garrison nods strongly, and I can tell he likes this plan. “It’s not that I don’t love London,” he explains to me. “It’s a city that’ll always remind me of you. But I love Philly.”
I smile. “Me too.”
It’s where I met my brothers, where I met my best friend Daisy, and where I met my first love who’s sitting across from me six years later.
We talk a bit more about my future job. I try not to glance at my phone, but I swear we put our food orders in over forty minutes ago.
I don’t care much about the pizza though.
I just like being here with Garrison.
He’s gone a little quiet, and he rubs his palms, elbows on the table. He’s staring around but his eyes always land on me, almost too much.
I give him a look.
He gives me one. “What?”
I shrug, waiting for him to tell me something. But he inhales a tense breath and licks his lips, just looking deeper into me.
I decide to talk. “Do you think they forgot our order?”
He scans the restaurant quickly, then back to me. “It probably takes a while to cook a fresh pizza.” He seems disinterested in the food.
“How’s lacrosse going?” I ask since he’s been playing on a club team.
Just for fun on the weekends. He’s more resilient and determined than he lets on, or maybe he even realizes.
Not a lot of people would return to a sport they have a love-hate relationship with, let alone find enjoyment in the activity again.
“It’s good.” He nods.
“You’ve been saying that a lot,” I tell him.
He looks confused.
I clarify, “It’s good , that’s good , everything’s good .”
“What can I say? I’m a thousand-page thesaurus.” His sarcasm is thick, a smile attached.
I want to laugh but my lips draw down. “Really, though, you’re starting to worry me. Did something happen—”
“No, I promise, Willow, everything is perfect.” His eyes grow far more tender, and he reaches a hand across the table.
I place my palm in his, and his thumb strokes my knuckles, expanding my lungs. His gaze is welling up, just looking at me.
It causes me to tear up. “Why are you staring at me like that?”