by A. J. Pine
Holly tapped her ruby stiletto–covered foot. Good god, those shoes. She was going to have to wear those when he returned. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I wonder if you recall a certain tall, dark, and British someone who insisted he virtually accompany me to Jamie’s Halloween party.”
He did recall. It wasn’t as if Halloween was particularly important to him. Sophie enjoyed it, and he was happy to celebrate the holiday with his daughter, especially since Tara and Phillip had their own party to attend, so he had Sophie all to himself for the entire evening and Sunday morning, which he guessed was this morning. But Holly loved it, and as much as he was happy to be where he was, this was one of those weekends he wished he could be two places at once.
“Where are you at the moment?” he asked, noting what looked like a whiteboard behind her.
“Jamie’s office,” she said. “It’s the only place quiet enough for me to hear you. Once I bring you out there, we won’t be able to talk anymore.”
He yawned, and Holly’s expression morphed into a pout.
“This is ridiculous,” she told him. “You need your sleep. You’re jet-lagged, and now you’re up in the middle of the night, and if I know you, you’ll go do some work or something after this and not go back to sleep and be a wreck for work on Monday.”
Will chuckled. “Thanks, Mum. How about you take me on a tour of the party, and then I promise not only to go right back to bed but also to have a lie-in as long as Sophie lets me.”
“God, I love it when you talk British.”
He rolled his eyes. “Show me everyone’s costumes already. I’ll say good-bye now so you can just close out the app when you’re done.”
“Good-bye, Billy.”
She blew him a kiss, and he shook his head.
“Good-bye, Dorothy.”
With that she exited the office and aimed her phone at every patron she passed, then gave him a reaction shot for each. She beamed when she showed him a couple dressed as Fred and Wilma from The Flintstones. Then she offered him a thumbs-down after she passed a girl wearing a T-shirt that said This is my costume. When she found a guy dressed as the Wilson volleyball from Castaway, she took a screen shot since she couldn’t access her camera while still connected to Skype. Finally, she made her way to the bar, where Brynn and Jamie were both serving patrons pints that looked more like witch’s brew than lager.
“Food coloring!” Holly yelled over the din, and Will could tell she was loving this. He was, too. This was the first time they’d done this—spent time together while they were apart. The time difference had always negated such a thing, but for some reason he didn’t want to miss this, and now that he was “here” with her, he was glad he hadn’t.
“Who’s your sister supposed to be?” he asked, and Holly’s brows furrowed.
“Let me put the phone by my ear!” she yelled again, and he chuckled.
“I asked who your sister’s supposed to be!”
He could tell Jamie was a superhero, the Green Arrow. His costume was minimal, but the green hood and mask over his eyes were enough to evoke the Robin Hood–esque comic book figure. But Brynn simply wore a dress with her curly hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, a pair of black-framed glasses, and bright lipstick.
“They’re Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak!” she yelled. When he showed no sign of recognition, she added, “It’s from an American television show!”
He nodded. If there was one thing he hadn’t taken an interest in since coming to the States, it was television. His hotel offered plenty of channels, but the little free time he had he spent with Holly, and so far they had not watched any telly.
He nodded, not bothering to try responding with a comment, as he knew she couldn’t hear a word he said. She sipped a pint of glowing green brew, alternating where she pointed the phone—at a costumed patron or at herself for her reaction. And only because the noise of the pub would drown him out, he decided it was a good idea to say what he never said when he left for a weekend.
“I miss you, Holly.”
Only when he said the words, there was suddenly no party to drown him out. Instead he heard Holly ask, “What?”
Shite. He didn’t catch that she’d turned back the way she came once she made it to the end of the bar. Will could see now that she was back in Jamie’s office. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how he felt. He’d woken before the bloody crack of dawn to “attend” the party with her.
I love this. I love the way you touch me. I love how you taste.
They’d both spoken many sentences that used that L word, but no real feelings were ever expressed. But missing Holly when he was away from her—that was an emotional reaction. And he’d said it. And fuck it if he wasn’t going to say it again.
“I said I miss you.”
His voice was steady, and he spoke with conviction. They were four months in and eight weeks from the end of this thing, and dammit if he was going to head back to London in January without letting her know she meant something to him.
Holly sat in Jamie’s desk chair and set the phone down in front of her. She sipped her beer.
“You miss me.”
She wasn’t asking, just repeating what he’d already said twice.
He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I bloody miss you. I always miss you when I’m here. I’m grateful I get to see Sophie, but it’s getting more difficult to leave each time I do.”
Holly’s eyes widened, and she hiccupped as she sipped from her pint, a dribble of green liquid dripping off her chin and onto her white top.
“Shit!” she said, rubbing at the green stain with her index finger.
Will chuckled. “You’re in a pub. Go ask Jamie for some soda water.”
But her eyes remained on the task at hand. She licked her thumb and rubbed at the spot.
“Holly.” He didn’t yell, but he spoke with enough force to convince her to meet his gaze.
“What?” she asked. The effervescent party girl he was with minutes ago had disappeared. Though she smiled when she looked at him, her eyes were anything but happy.
“Is it not okay that I miss you?” he asked. “Do you not miss me? I mean, what are we doing right now? Why am I awake and fully clothed?”
“You offered!” she blurted, and he nodded.
“And you accepted. Christ, Holly. Why can’t you just admit this one little detail? Look at me, for fuck’s sake. I’m in a suit before six o’clock on a Sunday morning.”
This made her laugh.
“You do look pretty spectacular in a suit,” she said.
He raised a brow.
“What about out of a suit?”
Holly’s teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she grinned.
“Yeah. I like that, too,” she admitted. “But we don’t say things like that, Will. I kind of thought it was an unwritten rule, you know? Because what would be the point when we know where this leads?”
He blew out a long breath.
“Maybe I’m changing the rules,” he said and watched her suck in a breath. “Not entirely,” he assured her. He knew she wasn’t in it for the long haul, especially since with him that meant not only England but Sophie, too. He was one hell of a package deal, and the wrong package for someone who didn’t do long term and wasn’t looking to become a parent any time soon.
“How, then?” she asked, and he shrugged.
“If it doesn’t matter,” he said, “then why not say whatever we want whenever we want to say it? If we wipe the slate clean on the first of the year, then anything between now and then doesn’t have to mean anything other than what it means in the moment. And right now, Holly Chandler, in this moment—or six hours into the future for you—I miss your smile.”
As soon as he said the words, she tried to suppress the one that teased at her lips.
“I miss your eyes,” he added. “Especially when you look at me with your brow all furrowed thinking I’m crazy.” She was laughing now. “I miss eating ic
e cream with you, looking at the stars with you, and hearing what kind of prediction your horoscope has for you and the way you claim it’s utter bullshit when I know you buy into it just a little bit.”
She narrowed her gaze at him, but she didn’t protest.
“I miss you, Holly. And when I get home tonight—tomorrow for you—I’m taking a taxi straight to your place because I refuse to miss you any longer than is necessary. Are we clear on this?”
“You said home.” Holly spoke as she nodded, and this time Will was the one with the furrowed brow. “You said, when I get home tonight.”
He swallowed hard at the realization. England was home, as was Sophie. He knew that, and it would never change. But maybe Holly Chandler was beginning to feel a bit like home as well.
“My mistake,” he told her. “Jet lag.”
But they both knew that was a lie. Will might have modified the rules, but he wasn’t ready to change them completely.
“Of course,” she said, then painted on a cheery smile. “So tell me, Mr. Evans, since you’re six hours ahead, what will I say when you turn up at my doorstep tomorrow evening?”
If she believed in horoscopes, maybe she’d believe him as well.
“You’re going to tell me that you missed me, too,” he said.
“Good night, Tin Man.”
He nodded.
“Good morning, Dorothy.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What are you doing?”
Brynn’s tone was more accusatory than inquisitive, and Holly was reconsidering letting her sister keep a key. Only because she had locked herself out more than once in the past year did she let it go for now, but sometimes a girl wasn’t up for an unannounced visit. Especially if she was about to get reprimanded.
Holly looked up from her laptop and winced at the crick in her neck. She did a slow roll of her head from shoulder to shoulder, trying to loosen it up, because she knew this only gave her sister more ammunition.
Brynn plopped down on the couch beside her, and Holly sighed.
“I’m working.”
She’d stayed at the party long past when it ended, helping Brynn and Jamie close up the bar. Holly had even let herself have a lie-in. Yes, she was thinking in Will’s Britishisms because she adored them, and they made her conjure up his voice. She missed that voice even though they’d spoken only hours ago. She missed the voice. That’s what she told herself. A voice could be missed independent of the man.
She was a terrible liar, even to herself. But the alternative was to try to rationalize what missing him would mean. It hadn’t been six months yet. Would she still miss him after the new year? Holly wished she was in England at the moment, in the future. Maybe then she’d know.
Brynn crossed her arms. “I thought you weren’t going to do this anymore—work straight through the weekends. You were sick for days last month because you’re pushing yourself too hard with this Fallulah Chan person’s account.”
Holly placed the laptop on the coffee table and stood up to stretch. When her gaze fell on the kitchen clock, she did a double take. How was it already four o’clock? Will was taking an early evening flight out of London. He’d be landing in three hours, and she still had to read a revised contract from the W that would allow the hotel and Trousseau to share the DJ that had already been hired for the New Year’s Eve party. That would take her at least another hour. Then she had to shower, because she’d collapsed in bed last night without even washing her face, and she’d slept in her Dorothy braids that now looked like two mangled nests. And he’d be hungry, right? She could make something quick or order in. He did like that Thai place around the corner. And since today was actually the thirty-first, trick-or-treating would be underway. Holly loved handing out the candy, but maybe tonight she should just place the bowl outside the door.
She grabbed Brynn by both wrists and pulled her up.
“It’s Tallulah Chan, and you need to go.”
“But I just got here,” she said, wrenching herself free from her sister’s grasp.
Holly nodded and tried this time to drag her sister toward the door. “I know. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m really swamped. Call you tomorrow?”
Again Brynn freed herself. She spun toward Holly and braced her hands on her sister’s shoulders.
“Chill the fuck out, lady. What is going on?”
Holly worried her lip between her teeth then blew her growing-out bangs from her forehead.
“I’ve been good the past several weeks,” she said. “I really have, balancing work and—outside of work stuff. But I don’t know. He’s coming home earlier tonight than he normally does, and I just got this new contract on Friday, and I didn’t work all weekend. I was at your party last night. If…if I get sick again, maybe I’ll blame it on you.”
Brynn let go of her, and Holly tugged her rogue bangs behind her ear.
“Sweetie, you can balance it all, work and a relationship.”
Holly laughed quietly. “It’s not a real relationship. I mean, it’s over in eight weeks, so I don’t have to balance anything. We just need to enjoy the time we have until Will rows himself back across the pond for good.”
Brynn’s mouth fell open. “I knew it! He’s a rower. God, that’s sexy.”
“I know, right?” Holly said.
Brynn waved the thought away. “Wait. That’s beside the point. The issue here is you taking on too much and not admitting that if you slowed down, eased up on the deadlines you create for yourself, you’d be happier, healthier, and have more time for the relationship you’re not really in. When does that contract need to be signed?”
Holly mumbled something, and Brynn raised her brows.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
Holly huffed out a breath. “I have the week to review it.”
Brynn narrowed her gaze. “Then what’s the rush?”
“Because. I don’t have a job like you, where I can go into my best friend’s quiet little bookstore and hide in my office and add up debits and credits. I’m not perfect, organized Brynn, who always knows what’s coming next. I have no idea what new project will hit on Monday or what fire I’ll have to put out—literally. Once, one of the models tried to sneak a smoke in the breakroom. When Jackie from the front desk caught her, she thought it would be a good idea to dispose of her cigarette butt in the pot of a fake plant…before extinguishing it.”
Brynn shook her head.
“Perfect Brynn? You think all I do is calculate totals?” she asked.
“That’s not what I meant,” Holly said.
Brynn took the last several steps to the door.
“That’s exactly what you meant, Holly. God, you know, some days I’m so proud of you, and others—like today—I think you just don’t get it.”
She was standing in the open doorway now, and Holly wasn’t sure how this had gone from Brynn showing up uninvited to Holly hurting the person she loved most.
“What don’t I get?” she asked.
Brynn leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.
“I really hope you figure it out,” she told her. “I hope Will has a nice flight home. Did you know you said that? That Will was coming home? He doesn’t live here, Holly. No matter what you think you’re going to feel in eight weeks, think about how you feel now and the fact that he really is leaving in January. You’re so good at playing pretend. What happens when what you feel is real? I’m not sure you’ll even know.”
Then she closed the door behind her.
What didn’t she get? What was she supposed to figure out? She loved her big sister, but sometimes she was just so…big sistery.
Pretend. Holly didn’t pretend. If anything, she was the most up-front person she knew. She and Will had an agreement. Nothing more, because both of them knew that more was not a possibility. Which was a good thing. Holly Chandler’s life was full. There wasn’t room for more.
She went back to the coffee table and picked up her phone. At least she had
her damn horoscope.
“You just don’t get it,” she mumbled, parroting her sister’s voice.
Gemini: No matter the question, you always have the answer. It’s just a matter of recognizing what that answer is. You can be headstrong, Gemini, your best and worst feature. Once you open yourself up to possibilities other than those you envision, you’ll have that which you seek.
She sank back onto the couch. Great. Her freaking app was suddenly more of an enigma than her sister, just like Glinda was to Dorothy. Well, she was still dressed like Dorothy if you counted the hair, so she knocked her bare heels together three times. Nothing.
What possibilities were there other than saying good-bye to Will and hello to her career?
Holly had just finished setting the table when a knock sounded on the door. She’d decided to just keep things simple and order pizza. She’d given the delivery guy enough time to make it before Will arrived so she could keep the pizza warm in the oven, and they could eat first or do other things and then eat. She was flexible.
She glanced down at her attire, a British flag T-shirt and jeans, and laughed quietly to herself, not that the pizza guy would get her joke. Or maybe it was trick-or-treaters.
“Coming!” she called toward the door, grabbing the bowl of candy from the small table and, miscalculating the turn around the wall before the entryway, stubbing her toe on the baseboard. “Shit!” she yelped, hopping the last two steps and throwing the door open to see Will standing there, thirty minutes early, pizza box in his hand.
“Here I thought you fancied pizza,” he said, eyebrows raised, “yet you’re yelling profanities as if Lou Malnati himself has disappointed you by delivering this very hot, deep-dish pie.”
He shifted the box from one palm to another, shaking his free hand as if to ward off the heat. “Trick or treat?” he asked, a devilish smirk spreading across that gorgeous, clean-shaven face.
Holly lowered the candy bowl to the ground outside her door and grabbed the pizza from him, hobbling back a few steps to the kitchen counter.
“You’re hurt,” he said, observing her awkward gait as she spun back to face him, but she shook her head.