by Sky Corgan
“He's your friend, too,” she unnecessarily reminds me. “You should care about him getting better faster.”
“Fine.” I submit with an eye roll. “But if I get sick, you're making me soup, too.” I point at her.
“Fine. Fine.” She wiggles with happiness. “It will only take a minute for me to cook it. I'll come get you when it's ready.” Willow retreats into her apartment. I've never seen someone so happy to learn that their potential love interest is ill. It's kind of weird when I think about it.
A minute turns into an hour. I spend about fifteen minutes pacing around my apartment with Max circling my legs before I finally surrender to watching television while I wait for Willow to finish preparing the seven-course meal she's undoubtedly fixing for Peter.
By the time she finally knocks on my door, it's apparent that cooking soup wasn't the only thing she's been doing. She's completely dolled up in a floral dress with her hair flat-ironed to perfection and her makeup skillfully applied. I hope she realizes that Peter probably isn't going to want to hang out. Then again, I'm not sure that matters to her. She just wants to look good for him.
“Let's go.” I nod toward the elevator, following her out.
Though I argue again that Peter probably has a fully stocked medicine cabinet, Willow makes me stop off at the drug store to buy a variety of liquids and pills for anything that could possibly be ailing him. Her effort is excessive between the thermos of soup she's carrying and the large bag of medicine. I dare not tell her that, though, not wanting to argue with her.
We drive downtown to the highrise that Peter lives in. Willow stares up at the building through the window, her face practically pressed against the glass.
“Impressed?” I huff.
“I figured he'd own a house,” she replies, though there's no disappointment in her voice.
“He's renting out the entire top floor. He says that houses are for families. Lofts are for bachelors.” I try to subtly remind her that he's not interested in marriage.
Willow doesn't respond, and we don't speak again until we're standing in front of the door to Peter's loft. I lift my hand to knock, and she stops me, shaking her head. I give her a queer look, then watch as she quickly straightens her dress and smooths down her hair before nodding for me to continue.
This girl.
It seems to take a lifetime before Peter finally comes to answer the door. For a while, I think he might be asleep and consider suggesting to Willow that we just leave. Right when I'm about to speak, the door opens.
Peter peeks his head out, keeping his hand firmly planted on the door. He's about three shades paler than normal, and there are bags under his eyes. Quite frankly, he looks like shit.
His gaze meets mine before he casts a glance over at Willow. If he's surprised to see her standing there, I can't tell.
“Hey, buddy. We decided to come by and check on you.” I rock on my heels, feeling awkward for the intrusion.
“We brought you soup and medicine,” Willow chimes in, placing the thermos in the plastic bag with the medicine before handing it all over to him.
“Thanks,” he replies hesitantly. Judging by his expression, he's considering whether or not to invite us in. It would be rude for him not to, but I know he's in no condition to entertain us.
“Well, that's all we wanted.” I save him from having to make that decision. “We'll be going now.” I thumb towards the elevator.
Peter nods and disappears inside his loft without another word.
Thankfully, Willow doesn't chastise me for letting him go back to bed. By the time we're in the elevator heading down, she's all smiles.
“He's handsome even when he's sick,” she muses dreamily.
“If you say so.” I'm definitely not seeing what she saw. Then again, my door only swings one way.
I'm too busy thinking about what a wasted trip it was to concentrate on much else. Playing nurse to Peter was not how I had planned to spend my afternoon.
“I guess this means we're not doing baseball practice now.” I sigh.
“Is it still even going on?”
I check the time on my phone. “They'll still be playing for another hour.”
“Well, I definitely can't play in this dress.” Willow glances down at her outfit.
“Yeah. I guess we'll just go home.”
“I can change real quick, and we can head back out.”
I huff in amusement. “As quick as you made that soup?”
She sulks, looking annoyed. “That was different.”
“Whatever. If you think you can get changed in less than fifteen, then I suppose we can still go.”
“I can.” She nods. “I need to get some practice in so that I'll know what I'm doing when Peter and I play together.”
“Any practice is better than no practice,” I agree.
We head back to the apartment complex, and I wait while Willow changes. Thankfully, she doesn't take long. Within fifteen minutes we're in my truck heading toward the baseball field.
The ride is mostly silent, which gives me time to reflect on the afternoon thus far. Peter is one lucky man to have someone so determined to go out of their way to care for him while he's sick. Usually, when I get sick I just wallow in my misery, wishing I was home. If I'm feeling strong enough, I force myself to cook something. If not, I don't eat. No pretty girl has ever brought me soup or made sure I had everything I needed. I don't think Peter realizes how lucky he is, and that's a crying shame.
While I had initially not approved of the idea of bothering Peter while he was sick, thinking about how we're both single guys away from our families with no one to care for us made me have a little more compassion. The next afternoon, I decide to drop by Peter's place to check on him, sans Willow. He did look pretty terrible, and I want to make sure that he's getting better.
There's a lot more light in his eyes when he opens the door this time. His posture is better, and the bags under his eyes have faded.
“Hey asshole,” he says with a smirk. “Come to mother me some more?”
Already, I regret coming. He's obviously feeling a lot better.
“I see you're back to your old self.” I step inside before turning and realizing he's wearing the same thing he had on yesterday. Maybe he's not back to one-hundred percent, but he's pretty close.
He claps me on the shoulder. “All joking aside, thanks for bringing me the soup and medicine yesterday. I was dead to the fucking world. Seriously. I wouldn't have eaten if not for that.”
“It wasn't my idea.”
“It wasn't?” He seems genuinely surprised.
“That was all Willow.” I step inside his loft and head straight to the living room to throw myself onto one of his plush white leather chairs.
“She didn't have to go out of her way to do that.” He follows me, suddenly sounding humble.
“No, she didn't.” I look up at him.
“I don't know why she'd go through all the trouble.” He scratches his temple.
I raise a brow. “Are you fucking dense, man?”
“Dense?” he parrots as if he's never been called that before.
“Why would any woman do that for a man?”
“Because I'm her boss.” He folds his arms over his chest.
My mouth falls agape. Surely, he can't be this blind. “Because she likes you,” I clarify.
He quirks his head back like the thought had never occurred to him. “What?”
“Do I need to spell it out?”
His gaze falls away from me. I can see the pieces falling into place inside his head. It truly never occurred to him that Willow might have a crush on him. Unfuckingbelievable.
“I think the more important question is...” I approach the topic hesitantly, since this is a new revelation to him, “how do you feel about her?”
What he says next could make all of Willow's dreams come true. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it, but the truth is out now, and I can't take it back.
There's a small aching in my heart for Willow, but also a strange sense of happiness. The conflicting emotions are confusing.
“Nothing?” I repeat.
Peter shoves his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. “I've never seen Willow as anything more than one of my employees.”
I huff. “Surely, you don't feel that coldly about her. You've been hanging out with her outside of work, so you must at least consider her a friend.”
“Perhaps.” He nods. “You know my rule, though.”
“Willow will be telecommuting soon,” I remind him.
“A rule is a rule.” He closes his eyes as if the conversation is draining him. “I don't date people I work with. It complicates things. I don't like dealing with the drama.”
“That's fair.” I can't really argue.
At least, when I deliver this news to Willow, I can soften the blow by telling her that he's just sticking to his no dating employees rule. She doesn't need to know that he was never interested in her in the first place. She doesn't deserve to be hurt like that, especially after everything she's done for him.
“You seriously didn't have a clue that she liked you?” I raise an eyebrow, still unable to believe it.
“Nope. None.”
“So,” I make a circular motion with my finger, “is it normal for girls to bring you stuff when you're sick?”
“Not really. But it's normal for my employees to try to hang out with me outside of work.”
“Female employees?”
“Especially female employees.” He gives me a knowing smirk.
I shake my head at him. “You're horrible.”
“Hey, if the shoe fits,” he laughs. “Willow isn't the first girl from work that's liked me, and she won't be the last.”
“Must be nice to have all of these girls throwing themselves at you,” I grumble.
“It is.” He jumps on top of me, gripping me in a headlock and giving me a noogie that makes me squirm and try to get away from him. “Stop being a jealous little bitch. I'm sure there are lots of girls at the gym that want to fuck you.”
That's not the point. Girls who want to sleep with me are a dime a dozen. Girls who want to date me aren't that uncommon either. Girls who truly care at the level that Willow cares for Peter, now that's a rare thing.
I don't linger. Peter may have more pep in his step, but it's obvious that he's still not completely well. After he finishes torturing me, I take my leave so that he can go back to relaxing.
All the way home, I think about how to break the news to Willow in a way that will make her understand that she needs to give up on Peter. I've already told her that he won't date girls from work, and it wasn't enough. I need to word it so that she understands it specifically means her. I doubt there's any way I can do it without hurting her feelings, though. Playing the middleman sucks.
I shove the key into the lock of my apartment door and cringe when I hear the door to Willow's unit open and her call my name. I'm not ready to deal with this yet.
I turn, and my heart sinks as I see her holding another thermos. It can only mean she wants me to take her back to Peter's loft since he obviously didn't come to work today. Why didn't she just make him a big batch of soup when we went yesterday. There's no way I'm taking her back today after the conversation I just had with him. If she wants to go, she'll have to go on her own.
“Hey.” I rub the back of my neck, inching into my apartment, though it's a struggle when Max desperately wants out.
“Work late tonight?” She chirps, crossing the hallway to stand in front of me.
“Uh, yeah,” I lie, though I don't know why. For some reason, I feel guilt over having disclosed her secret affection to Peter. I had thought it was obvious, though. “Going back to Peter's?” I nod at the thermos in her hands.
She glances down at it before holding it out to me. “No. This one is for you. As a thank you for yesterday. I know it was a pain for you to take me over there. Don't worry, it's fresh. I made it today.”
My guilt doubles for thinking ill of her intentions. She didn't have to do this.
“Thanks.” I take the thermos from her hesitantly.
“Do you think that Peter will like me more since I took care of him yesterday?” she asks, rocking on her heels.
“I don't know.”
“I hope so.” She stares up at the ceiling and sighs dreamily. “He'll notice how good I am for him soon. I just know it.”
Oh God, this is awkward.
“You never know,” is the best I can offer. But I know. I know that he doesn't feel for her at all. If I repeated the words to her like he said them to me, they would slice right through her heart. The thought of seeing her in pain...I don't like it.
“I'm tired. I'm going to go in.” I point into my apartment. “Thanks for the soup.”
“Sure.” She seems startled out of some thought. “Have a good night.” Willow takes a few steps backwards, and I disappear into my apartment, closing the door behind me with a sigh.
I shouldn't have to feel this way about a relationship that's not even my own. I shouldn't care as much as I do. And I damn sure shouldn't be the one to have to break her heart. That's Peter's job.
16
Willow
Things are going so well. While I hate that Peter got sick, it afforded me the opportunity to show him how great of a wife I'll be if we ever get married. Now he'll know that I'll always be there for him, no matter what.
He doesn't return to work until the following Monday. When I walk into the office, he's standing near my seat talking to Becky. Seeing them together makes me frown, especially when I overhear them speaking so casually. She's gazing up at him with those big doe eyes that I'm sure have seduced many a man. I feel no remorse at all for butting in on their conversation.
“Are you feeling better?” I ask Peter as I round him to take my seat.
“Yes,” he replies, not even looking at me.
“Did you enjoy the soup that I brought you?” I cast a side glance over at Becky to see her reaction. She needs to know that we're close so that she'll back off.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I have your thermos in my office. I'll bring it to you later.”
“It's alright. You don't have to bother yourself with it. I can pick it up from your office later.”
“I'd rather bring it to you.” His tone is stiff.
My smile falters. “Alright.”
As he turns to walk away, all I can think is that there's something different about him today. I know that he goes into professional mode sometimes, but this doesn't feel like that. His responses were short, and his demeanor almost standoffish.
Maybe he's upset that I mentioned going over to his place. I know that he likes to keep his private life private. It was the only way to protect my territory, though. Becky is trying to get close to him to spite me. Everything the bitch does is to spite me, it seems.
Peter drops my thermos off at my desk a little before lunch. He doesn't say a word as he does it. Becky sees it, though, and I smile smugly over at her.
For the remainder of the day, Peter seems to avoid conversation with me like the plague. Every time I ask him a question, he answers with the utmost brevity and then moves on to help someone else. I'm beginning to worry that he's really pissed at me, and it's tearing me apart. Whatever I did, I need to fix it.
When work is over, I wait outside of the building for Peter to come out. It takes a good ten minutes before he finally makes an appearance, looking startled to see me waiting for him.
“Mister Burgett.” I nod my head respectfully.
“Miss Stroop.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks, looking at everything but me. “What are you still doing here?”
“I just wanted to make sure that you're alright.”
“I'm perfectly fine. Have a nice afternoon.” He continues walking, but I quickly get ahea
d of him to make him stop.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask.
He wets his lips with his tongue, glancing at me for half a second. His expression reads as uncomfortable or annoyed. “Why would I be mad at you?”
Relief floods my chest. Maybe he's just having an off day. If that's the case, then some company might cheer him up. “Would you like to go grab something to eat?”
“Excuse me?” He quirks his head back.
“You seem like you're in an off mood. I figured that maybe you might like someone to talk to.” I blush at my own boldness.
“Mister Burgett.” Becky comes flying out of the double doors. I'd been so busy trying to ignore her for most of the day that I hadn't even realized she hadn't left yet.
She flanks Peter's side, wrapping her hands around his arm. The fact that she's touching him makes anger and jealousy flame up inside of me. I can almost feel the steam coming out of my ears.
He glances down at her, seeming just as shocked that she's touching him as I am.
“I'm sorry I took so long in the bathroom. I wanted to look perfect for you,” she says. “Are you ready to go?”
“Go?” I parrot, unable to stop the word from coming out of my mouth.
“Mhm. Peter is taking me out to dinner tonight.” She presses herself against his side.
I look up at Peter to make sure I'm not dreaming—that I heard her right. There's a subtle hint of apology behind his eyes, but he doesn't deny her claim.
In that moment, I feel my heart drop from my chest like a lemming jumping from a cliff. It hits the floor and shatters into a million pieces. Everything I've done has been for nothing. He wants her. Not me.
17
Peter
“You need to understand that this wasn't a date,” I tell Becky as we leave the restaurant.
It wasn't, for as much as she would have liked for it to be. Throughout the entire dinner, she gazed at me as if every single thing I said was remarkably fascinating. I gave her whatever advice I could about starting a business, but I kept getting the feeling that she wasn't really listening.