Page 7 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)
Her discomfort must’ve been evident because Christian placed his hand on her bouncing knee. “You okay?”
She shut her eyes for a second and then drew closer to his ear. “The song isn’t helping the mood. ”
The driver must’ve overheard her attempt at a whisper. “Would you like me to change it?”
Yes , she wanted to say. “Oh, no, that’s okay,” left her betraying lips.
“At least we’re close to home,” Sahar added.
The car came to a halt five minutes later, no traffic being a much-needed blessing. They stepped out of the vehicle and gave each other quick hugs before Christian walked to his building next to theirs.
She wanted to check in on Ethan and see how he was doing, but it suddenly felt intrusive. A thing she would’ve done without an ounce of hesitation now sparked a storm of doubts and uncertainties. It’s not like Ethan would think she liked him because of a simple text.
The man was focused intently on opening day, married to his work, as she should’ve been. He wasn’t pushing boundaries in his mind as tirelessly as she was.
It’s just a text, woman. Send it. Check in.
Sahar pressed the fifth-floor button in the elevator, and Willa leaned her head against the cool metal. She opened her messages, clicked on his name, and stared. She stared until a ding alerted her of their arrival.
“Where’d you go?” Sahar asked.
She sighed quietly, looking down at her white trainers against the floor. “Has this floor always had such an ugly tile pattern?”
“Oof, it’s that bad in your head that you’re deflecting with another question? Noted. And yes—how are you just noticing this?”
“It’s squishy.”
Sahar held back a laugh. “Something is going on in that head of yours, and I’m gonna pretend I’m not offended that you’re keeping it from me. ”
“The only thing going on in my head is how I can’t stop thinking about Ethan, and I’m not at all chuffed about feeling these things.”
Sahar stopped, flat key mid-turn. “Ethan, as in Ethan Everett?”
“Do we know more than one?”
“No…but are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I was going to text him to see how his head is, but I started spiraling.”
“Because?” she asked, fingers still tightly wound against the silver.
Willa sighed, reaching forward; she spun the key in Sahar’s fingers and pushed open the door. “Because my brain is going down the kind of path it should stay far away from, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“OH MY GOD.” Sahar didn’t move, standing still in the doorway.
Willa turned back. “What?”
“How are you just casually sharing this with me like it’s some random thing you bought at the shops?”
“Well, I’m glad it’s not obvious because today’s been a lot, and I started worrying about how I must be wearing every little emotion all over my face.”
Sahar scoffed. “No, it’s obvious because I know you, but I didn’t think you’d figured it out yet. And I assumed that once you did, your arse would share it with me.”
Willa took off her shoes beside their rack near the door and strode to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, popped open a bottle of painkillers, took one, and then turned to look at her friend. “To be fair, I haven’t processed shit.”
“When did this start?”
“It’s come and gone a few times, but it’s never been this…I don’t know, loud? Things have been different since I got back. I missed him so much w hen I was away. He said he missed me, too. I think we’re just a bit too attached.”
Sahar laughed. “Wow! I’m going to assume you probably can’t admit this or maybe even see it, but you know he feels the same way, right? You two are conjoined at the hip.”
Willa placed the glass under the filtered dispenser and filled it to the brim once more. “And this is where I head to bed now because you’re just talking nonsense.”
“I’m not, and you know it.”
Willa shook her head, frustration mounting in her chest. “You know where I stand with dating actors, Sahar. My brain is just disheveled in all sorts of ways right now,” she flipped her hair to the other side and sighed.
“None of this means anything. It’s pre-opening jitters, coming back together after time apart, and a whole bloody mess of confusing emotions that’ll go away eventually. ”
Sahar shrugged and leaned against the fridge. “Just checking to make sure you know that’s a rule you set yourself, right? It can be broken.”
Willa pinched the bridge of her nose. “I set it for a reason. The field alone is complicated; look at the divorce rates and the amount of time people spend apart. It'd be a recipe for a disaster.”
Sahar was about to speak, but Willa cut her off.
“ And on top of that, I don’t want to deal with death threats from his fans or hear about how I’ve only gotten this far because I dated him.
You know how it’s been for us, Sahar. We’ve worked our asses off for years in smaller roles, and this is our big break.
We got here on our own. We got here because someone somewhere finally looked beyond my last name and your first name.
We got here because of our hard work. They saw what we were capable of.
It’d all go straight to hell if I got with Ethan. ”
Sahar grimaced. “Do you hear yourself? First, yes, we got here on our own, a nd we should be damn proud of that. But people will talk and make assumptions regardless. Someday, you might also have a few toxic fans who’d give your normal accountant boyfriend hell just because they think you can do better.
That cannot be a reason you stop yourself from being with the one person you might fully connect with,” Sahar countered.
“The distance could be hard on us. Things are easier now that we’re in the same production. Things are too unpredictable in our field.”
Sahar gaped at her. “Willa, listen, I know you believe this with everything in you, and I know I’m not the best example with my track record, but you have to know that not every actor’s relationship is the same.
Like how every Middle Eastern person isn’t the same even though ignorant people love boxing us in, every demisexual isn’t the same, every dancer isn’t the same, etc. You know this.”
Willa exhaled heavily and took another large gulp of water.
“Yeah, okay, I hear you. I get that. But, Sahar, all of that aside, there’s also the fact that I’d never jeopardize my friendship with him.
I know it’s only been two-ish years, but it feels like he’s been the missing puzzle piece in my life, and I can’t imagine getting together, breaking up, and losing that friendship. I’m not risking that.”
“And what if you don’t break up? What if it lasts?
What if he’s the one? Jesus, Willa, look at the love stories in your family alone.
How am I the hopeless romantic who gives every dick a chance even when they keep screwing me over?
Meanwhile, you have concrete proof of all the ways that love lasts and endures.
My sister just divorced her childhood best friend, for crying out loud, and I still think love is a very real thing that can last.”
Willa threw her hands up in the air. “Exactly! Amina is proof of why you don’t get with your best friend, let alone your childhood best friend. ”
“The problem here isn’t that Amina and Keith were friends; it’s that Keith has always been a womanizer.
Amina thought she could change him, and he wanted to change but realized sticking his dick into one woman for the rest of his life was too challenging.
They aren’t a bloody rule here. Plus, Amina is, quite frankly, doing all right with the chap from her office.
There might be something there that lasts. ”
Willa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Still, she and Keith are no longer as close, and they used to be inseparable.”
“That’s just life, babe. You can’t live in fear of what’ll happen.”
“I’m not living in fear. I’m being cautious.”
“Cautious could be stopping you from experiencing something extraordinary.”
“Cautious is what you have to be when you’re thirty-three, and you’d eventually like a family someday.”
Sahar released an empathetic sigh. “I get it. I do, but sometimes, all of that—kids, a family, happy endings, require taking a risk. Ethan isn’t Jesse, he isn’t Robert, and he sure as hell isn’t Alden.”
“How did we go from my headspace feeling fuzzy and these emotions will eventually go away to an entire deconstruction of my love life? I’m too drunk for this.”
“You would be reacting the same way even if you were sober because these feelings aren’t going to go away overnight, and you’re doing a lot of work to deny yourself a chance at happiness,” Sahar noted, reaching up to the cupboard, she took out a bag of sour belts and ripped the seal open.
She inched the bag close to Willa, who shook her head in a wordless, I’m good gesture.
Sahar pulled out a green one and stuck it in her mouth.
“I’m guessing we’re going to forget this conversation happened in the morning until you’re ready to admit that your feelings aren’t just a batch of nerves? ” she asked .
Willa nodded and reached over to take the bag of white cheddar Cheez-its sitting on the counter. “Yup. Good talk.”
She beelined toward her room, fully aware that Sahar would be shaking her head. She wanted—no, needed—a quick body shower, but God, the effort— the effort . She picked up her phone again and stared at Ethan’s last message. A simple text would be harmless.
Contrary to everything Sahar believed, none of these emotions would last. They’d go away. They had to.
WILLA
How’s your head?
ETHAN
Still hurts but no longer has me in a death grip. How was tonight?
WILLA
Good to hear. It was fine. Nothing special.
ETHAN
Did you get home safe?
WILLA
Yup, about to crash.
ETHAN
Okay, good. Sleep well.
WILLA
Goodnight!
She released a tortured groan, ate the remaining Cheez-Its, and forced herself to shower before bed.