Page 2 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)
WILLA
W illa was used to darker makeup, a sharp and thick cat-eye, false lashes, smokey shadows, and blush in its most overt form to be seen by all members of the audience.
The softer colors she got to explore for her brother’s wedding were a pleasant change.
She blended oranges and burgundies with a sparkly peach that brought out the hazel in her eyes.
And as much as she adored red lipstick, the subtle mauve felt nice after wearing “Midnight Dance” daily at work.
She placed a napkin between her lips to blot the excess.
While she got to do her own makeup, she needed someone else to do her hair, which resulted in a sleek, straight ponytail, a hairstyle that always seemed easy but was impossible to get right for someone more used to fashionable wigs for every act.
“Willa, darling, are you almost done?” she heard her mother call out.
“Be down in a minute, Mum. I just need my shoes.”
Willa slid her feet into the nude pumps and stepped back for one last look in the long mirror. The caramel-colored A-line dress, decked out in glowing sequins, thankfully complemented both her body type and olive complexion .
She took her phone from the dresser and snapped a quick photo.
Willa opened the messages app on her phone and clicked on Sahar’s name in her pinned contacts.
WILLA
As promised, here’s the full look.
The three dots appeared immediately.
SAHAR
HOTTIE OF THE DECADE AWARD GOES TO…
WILLA
lmao I love you. I’ll send more photos of the bride and groom later.
SAHAR
Have so much fun, babe!
A part of her wanted to send the same photo to Ethan, but she couldn’t figure out if that would be weird or not.
She could send him random things, sure. An old photo of her with her childhood dog where she’s grinning from ear to ear.
Another one yesterday with her hair and makeup done dramatically by her nieces, Catherine and Lily.
Maybe she could post it on social media. Why did she even want Ethan to see it? Being away from him was odd. It was making her feel strange.
You hate social media. Why are you even questioning this?
She did it anyway. Willa opened the app and added the photo to her stories, captioning it with “time to get my big bro hitched.” Then, she posted it to the Close Friends circle she’d curated away from the public eye.
Walking down the stairs, Willa heard her immediate family’s chatter grow louder.
While they weren’t having a traditional Armenian wedding, Anna thought the detail of the groom’s family going to the bride’s house could be a lot of fun, so they were keeping that element sans zurna and drums blasting upon their entrance.
Willa looked around the room, and every single person—excluding her and the kids—was paired up.
Emma was adjusting the flowers in Catherine’s hair, and Lily was having a very animated conversation about candy in her dad’s arms. Her parents were talking to her paternal aunt and uncle.
Her youngest girl cousin, Maria, was giggling with her boyfriend, Andy.
Violet, her cousin Ben’s wife, was fixing his tie while quietly laughing about something he was saying.
It was sweet seeing him like this, the quietest person she’d ever known, openly smiling and wholly in love with a woman who was just as in awe of him.
He was a traitor, though. They’d joke often about being stuck together in the single’s zone, but then he had to go and reunite with the long-lost love of his life.
She’d be selfishly furious with him if their story weren’t so adorable.
Violet had also given birth to twins when she was forty-two, a boy and a girl.
In truth, that detail gave Willa a bit of hope because despite people annoyingly telling her that her biological clock was ticking, she did, in fact, have plenty of time.
At least, she hoped she would be as fortunate as they were.
She sighed. These were the moments when loneliness hit her the most, the fragments of time when she wished with everything in her that she could find someone, too.
Therapy next week was going to be a doozy.
Her phone vibrated at the exact moment her brother spoke. “Can we please not be stereotypical Armenians and get there late? Let’s go!” The Armenians rolled their eyes affectionately. The non-Armenians chuckled.
ETHAN
I just saw the photo you posted. You look so beautiful, Wills. Give your brother my love.
WILLA
Thank you ?? and I will! He’s cranky and eager to get to his girl.
ETHAN
I’ll bet. How are you feeling? Is anyone harassing you yet about making you their son’s next bride?
WILLA
Hahahaha we’re safe for now. Ask me in a few hours when we get to the venue.
ETHAN
Duly noted. I take my fake boyfriend from across the pond duties very seriously.
WILLA
Enormously grateful for you!
She placed her phone back into her cream clutch and averted her attention back to the chatter. Everyone was thankfully getting ready to leave the house, even though there’d likely be at least one more conversation in front of the door.
On the ride over to Anna’s family home, Willa spotted a treehouse and squealed openly in the car.
Her dad laughed, knowing her obsession. So did her mum.
Since she was a little girl, Willa had adored the idea of treehouses despite never even stepping foot in one.
Their houses growing up weren’t big enough, and she’d never known anyone who had one either.
She didn’t often dream of a big house, but she always wished for a space that could hold a small treehouse, at least something she could maybe give future children and live vicariously through them.
Willa picked up her phone to text Ethan.
WILLA
Spotted a treehouse on our way over. I almost jumped out of the car.
ETHAN
LOL but did you cry?
WILLA
I was so close.
ETHAN
??
Her fascination couldn’t be explained. There was something about them that made her feel like things were going to be okay.
It might’ve been silly, but merely looking at one felt like a long, needed hug, an all-time favorite song coming on shuffle right when you need it most, the first sip of coffee—a combination of all her favorite things secured in this small space surrounded by leaves.
Willa was openly crying. No, she was sobbing. Alex looked at Anna like every answer in the world was written in her eyes, stored somewhere only he could see. Their vows were one thing, but the language they spoke in silence was another—tender and intimate.
This was what she wanted. This was why she kept longing for that deeper connection, where the inability to grasp a life without that person was a thought too devastating to entertain.
Willa had never felt that before.
She’d begun to think that it was never in the cards for her. But this moment, watching her brother and new sister-in-law slow-dance to Dean Martin’s “Welcome to My World,” was proof of its existence.
Love was indeed a very real thing.
And she wanted it for herself. She didn’t want it from the guy eyeing her from across the room since they got to the venue. She most definitely didn’t want it from Alden Price, her ex-boyfriend, who was convinced demisexuality was a made-up construct, and she’d get over it if she just had good sex.
As if she didn’t wish it could be easy for her to go out there and have a mindless romp.
She heard the host invite all the other couples to join the bride and groom on the dance floor and caught the guy on the other end of the room rising from her peripheral vision. Willa sprinted up and beelined out to the loo.
Hard, definite, no.
Closing the restroom door behind her, Willa leaned against the nearest wall.
There were so many things she appreciated about being half-Armenian, but she loathed so much about how people approached relationships.
Armenians in foreign lands often bonded quickly, an inherent effect of the displacement their ancestors faced during the Armenian Genocide, embedding a deep fear in them that someday their entire race would cease to exist. So, even though her family wasn’t close to some of the people who’d been invited, it was done out of respect.
She’d deal with the nosey comments for one day and try her hardest not to internalize them.
Inevitably, she’d fail at that last part.
At the very least, she’d thus far managed to avoid the one lady who’d been actively trying to set Willa up with her son since they were nineteen. Respectfully, no.
Her phone buzzed again. Yet another unfamiliar spark flared inside of her upon seeing Ethan’s name.
ETHAN
What time do you get in on Wednesday?
WILLA
3:17ish
ETHAN
I’m off the whole day. I can come pick you up.
WILLA
You don’t have to do that. We’ll get stuck in traffic.
ETHAN
I don’t mind.
She smiled to herself. What on earth were these feelings creeping up?
Good God. She couldn’t think this way. Ethan was her best friend.
That was it—nothing more. They were just experiencing a weird, maybe natural, spell of separation anxiety.
It’d happen between any two people who saw each other every day and who genuinely liked spending time together.
That was it. Nothing more. It couldn’t be.
So, why was her heart fluttering?
WILLA
Who am I to say no then? You’re a godsend.
ETHAN
??
After a solid five minutes, Willa returned to the hall, which was now buzz ing with livelier music, crowds circling the bride and groom, and flashing lights with faux smoke.
Now, this was the party she was used to.
The slower moves only felt safe on the stage, with a partner she could trust. She didn’t need it here in any capacity, however casual it might be.
She maneuvered her way toward her people, ready to disregard all unwanted thoughts to bask in the joy of love with the people she loved most.
Later in the night, she’d also learned that the chap eyeing her was Anna’s relatively nice co-worker but not at all Willa’s type.
He had approached Anna, asking about Willa, to which she instinctively replied that she was taken, so he’d back off.
But also, with very minimal effort, she caught the bouquet because it quite literally landed on her head.
Yay ? If she believed in that sort of stuff, maybe she’d take it as a sign, but nope.
Seven days with her family was both too much and too little at the same time.
She was ready to return home to New York, even when she wanted to stay a little bit longer.
But she’d be back soon, and her parents were set to visit in a few months.
Willa moved through the security line rather swiftly, desperate to sit down with one last airport coffee from Costa and scones freshly baked by her mum.
She entered the nearest shop to buy a bottle of water before walking over to her gate. Willa sat down and opened her phone, doom-scrolling social media until she noticed a saved Instagram live on Sam’s account.
Ethan looked like his skin was crawling, and he needed the camera off him.
He had a few smiles—most of which she appreciated, but not this.
This was the uncomfortable smile. The one he’d force when a fan was out of line or if he was feeling uneasy in a room.
She picked up her phone to shoot him a message.
WILLA
I saw a bit of Sam’s live. You had your uncomfortable smile on. Did something happen?
ETHAN
How on earth did you notice that?
A fan spotted me going into the theatre and ran over to grab my ass. It was the weirdest thing.
WILLA
What the hell!? I’m so sorry, Ethan.
ETHAN
And they had their friend film it, too. So who the hell knows where that’ll turn up.
WILLA
That’s horrid. Jesus. Why’d you get on camera after that? Did you say anything to them?
ETHAN
I turned around and said what the fuck, but they ran off. I’d promised Sam I’d do it with him, so I didn’t want to back out.
WILLA
He would’ve understood if you’d told him.
ETHAN
I know, but I was already in such a shit mood that I didn’t want to sulk about it. Are you at the airport already?
WILLA
Fair. I’m here to talk if you want. And yeah! Boarding soon, hopefully.
ETHAN
Can’t wait to see you. Have a safe flight!
WILLA
Saaaaame.
ETHAN
Thanks for checking in.
WILLA
Always.
She wanted to be by his side. If she had been nearby, Ethan would’ve found her, put his head on her shoulder, and told her that he was annoyed. That was the familiarity crystalized in their relationship.
Small touches here and there, like second nature.
Eight hours and some change. She’d be there soon, and then she’d have them back again.