Page 21

Before

I need a favor. Are you free?

My phone lit up with a text from Will.

He was being polite. He knew I was free because I was off from work today, and he had left me in his bed less than an hour ago to head up to the office.

We had been dating for three months, and I barely went home anymore.

So the fact that I had no intention of leaving his house, let alone his bed, wouldn’t have caught him by surprise.

9:22 a.m.

Sorry. I have a packed schedule of catnapping.

9:27 a.m.

I left my briefcase on my desk. Can you bring it up to the office?

Will’s office. The two-story brick building was off Park Avenue, and in a place deeply in love with its own history, it was no accident that Fritz and Will’s office held a prime spot on Winter Park’s historical registry. I had seen it a zillion times, but I had never actually set foot in the place.

Maybe that was why the idea of strolling into his office with a briefcase felt like more than a harmless errand. Maybe that was also why the hairs on the back of my neck stood up just a little when I responded:

9:29 a.m.

Sure. Give me 10 minutes.

Even as I hit send, I knew ten minutes was not enough time to make myself sufficiently presentable to walk into Will’s office.

While I slept at his place most nights, there had been no romantic overtures about cohabitation—it had been only three months after all. So every few days, I quietly rounded up any clothes that had accumulated at Will’s place and took them home.

This was me hedging my bets. This was me playing “the cool girl.” The one who doesn’t push a guy into a serious commitment too early. This was me…setting myself up to wear last night’s sequin top and jeans to his office.

Fuck.

I looked down at the white T-shirt I had slept in. It was his, but if I knotted it at the waist, it didn’t look terribly oversize. I pulled my jeans on, deciding it was better to look casual than sparkly, and silently willed his office to be vacant as I hopped in my car with his errant briefcase.

After parking, I walked timidly toward the building and peered through the window from the sidewalk. One look at the hum of activity inside told me I was not going to get my wish of slipping in unseen, so I pulled out my phone and texted Will.

9:44 a.m.

I’m outside, but I’m wearing your clothes. Probably better you come out to grab your briefcase.

I was waiting for a response when a male voice broke my concentration.

“Can I help you with something?” the voice boomed, infused with authority and somehow a touch of charm.

I recognized the character approaching me from photos in Will’s home office and the advertisements for the firm.

It was his partner, Fritz—a Winter Park institution.

One look at him telegraphed a radioactive variant of privilege and an air of invincibility—gilded Teflon—like he could dodge DUIs as easily as sexual assault accusations with a bought-and-paid-for impunity.

“I’m waiting for someone.” I tried to make my tone as neutral as possible.

He thumbed toward the building. “Someone in there? I can help. I own the place.”

Bully for you.

I bit my tongue to avoid being rude. “It’s nice.”

“You want a tour?” He took a step in my direction with a glint in his eye. I shifted uneasily.

The front door of the office pushed open, and Will exited as if on cue. “Babe.” His face broke wide into a smile.

“Babe?” Fritz frowned and looked between the two of us.

Will stepped past him to draw me in and plant a full kiss on my lips. It was a kiss that was more territorial than romantic. A staking of claim. And under Fritz’s leering gaze, I was more than happy to be claimed.

“I see you’ve met my partner, Fritz.” He turned to Fritz, draping a possessive arm across my shoulders. “Fritz, this is my girlfriend, Nora.”

“Girlfriend?” Fritz asked, unable to disguise a sort of mild horror. “You’re dating someone new, and you haven’t even mentioned it?”

It was a title we hadn’t discussed, but I wasn’t going to contradict him in front of Fritz.

“We’ve been keeping things discreet for Mia’s sake,” Will explained.

“And Constance’s, too, no doubt,” Fritz said in a pointed tone. “How’s she taking it?”

Will bristled a little. “She’s happy for me, of course.”

This was more than a stretch considering Constance’s recent wine caper, but I bit my tongue as Will painted a pretty picture. For Fritz’s benefit? Or his own?

“I’ve gotta get back to work.” Will kissed me on the forehead. “Thank you for coming.”

“Nice to meet you, Nora.” Fritz nodded.

As they headed inside, Will took a casual look behind him and winked at me.

—

Will and I had cleared our fair share of milestones after three months of dating, including our first date, a first trip, and his ex-wife’s first breaking and entering.

But I must have passed some new kind of test after meeting Fritz, because that night when Will got home, he scooped me up and kissed me.

“I want you to meet Mia,” he announced.

“But I’ve met her,” I countered. “That’s how I met you. Remember? There was, like, a lot of puke involved. Maybe you’ve blocked it out.”

He laughed as he continued to kiss my neck, my shoulder.

“Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask: Why does she call you Pal?”

“Mia struggled with ‘Bs’ and ‘Ds’ when she was learning to read and write. She figured out that ‘pal’ was easier to spell than ‘dad’ and it stuck.”

Sweet. God, everything about this man is insufferably perfect.

“So, about that date…,” he said.

“The date wherein you sacrifice me to a teenager?”

“I want her to get to know you.” His lips curled into a half smile. “As my girlfriend.”

“ Girlfriend. There’s that word again.”

“Has a nice ring, right?”

And it was the twinkle in his eyes that made it so easy to say yes to both the title and the Mia introduction.

And once I agreed to meet Mia “as Will’s girlfriend,” the wheels started turning—like a train on a track or a meat grinder in a factory.

The plan for my debut was a low-key pizza dinner at Will’s place.

Something that gave Mia plenty of space in a familiar environment.

Will’s housekeeper, Alma, was famous for her pizza dough, and Will had pulled a favor with her to get a full-spread, make-your-own pizza bar for the night.

Everything was set to go off without a hitch until his work calendar usurped our best-laid plans.

“I’ve got to take this.” He held his phone up as Mia and I were spreading pizza sauce on individual pies.

Mia rolled her eyes like she had heard this a zillion times before as Will picked up the call en route to his home office. An awkward silence settled over the kitchen. Mia had been standoffish since her arrival. Now, she busied herself with topping her pizza, not even bothering to look up.

She liked me so much better when she was drunk.

I thought about all of the men my mother had dated when I was a kid.

Countless boyfriends and even two more husbands after she and my dad divorced.

Most of them left as quickly as they had arrived.

And each one seemed to inspire a new personality in my mom—she quickly rearranged her preferences to match theirs.

Still, I found spending any time getting emotionally invested in them pointless.

All I wanted from them was to be left the hell alone.

Maybe Mia felt the same kind of guarded indifference toward me.

I weighed the pros and cons of speaking versus silence and tried to remember what I cared about when I was her age. But Mia broke the silence first.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not going to try to Parent Trap you,” Mia said without looking up from her pizza toppings.

“What?” I couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped.

“I’m not one of those kids that’s, like, secretly hoping her parents get back together. I’m not going to put a lizard in your bed or anything.”

“Thanks…I think?”

“They fought all the time. Like, all the time. About everything. I was so happy when they finally got divorced. They’re a lot easier to get along with one-on-one.

Now, they only fight about the fact that my mom thinks her new house is too small.

Which it’s not. She’s just pissed she’s not waterfront anymore. ”

“My mom dated a lot of cringey guys when I was your age,” I offered. “I see your offer not to put a lizard in my bed, and I raise you a promise not to attempt to bond over some weird shopping makeover montage.”

“Sounds fair,” she said. “Just go easy on my dad.”

I gave her an inquisitive look.

“You’re the first person he’s dated since the divorce. Just…don’t break his heart too bad.”

She thought she was being coy, but I knew a declare-your-intentions inquiry when I heard one. For once, I didn’t want to trot out the we’re-just-having-fun sound bite. I didn’t want to insult her intelligence or make her worry I was being reckless with her dad’s heart.

“I like your dad. Like, a lot,” I said. “I don’t have any plans to break his heart.”

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t much, but coming from a teenager, I understood that Mia had generously extended herself.

“Thanks, Mia.”

“What are we thanking Mia for?” Will came back into the room with a burst of energy, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my shoulder.

I didn’t have any time to respond, though, as a wild rapping on the front door interrupted the moment. The three of us exchanged questioning looks. And then the doorbell started ringing relentlessly.

“Mia!” a woman shrieked. “Will!”

Terror ripped through the center of me, but Will and Mia seemed calmer as they swapped a knowing look of dread.

“I’ll get it,” he bit out, already exiting the kitchen and heading for the door with purpose.

What came next was loud and frenetic commotion and then stomping footsteps heading our way.

“Get your things, Mia, we’re leaving.” Constance, the brunette I recognized from Will’s nest camera, was glaring at me as she shouted at Mia. “Now!”

“Mom.” Mia huffed a sigh. “Go home.”

Constance practically cackled. “This used to be my home before your dad tried to erase me from his life and rewrite history by replacing me with a younger model.”

Mia dropped her pizza toppings and walked out of the kitchen. “Just let me know when it’s over, Pal.”

The lack of response from Mia only fueled Constance, who turned back to Will. “You let her ignore all of the rules here, don’t you?”

“Constance,” Will said. His voice was measured, carefully considering each word. “You should go.”

“Why?” she fired back. “So you can have your midlife crisis in peace?” She gestured to me—the apparent personification of a midlife crisis.

“You spent your life buried in your work, ignoring me and Mia, and you choose now to pull your head out of the sand? And you introduce Mia to your girlfriend without even telling me?” She turned her vitriol on me next.

“I sacrificed everything for this family. Gave up my career ambition so that he could have the career he wanted.”

Was she looking to me for pity?

“I never asked you to do those things,” Will interjected.

“No! You never asked. Don’t you see how that’s so much worse? You just left me holding the bag on everything to do with Mia and building this house and managing our social calendars. It’s so much worse than if you had asked, Will. You just took and took—my help, my time. You took everything!”

Will threw his arms up in the air. “I can’t have this fight anymore. You need to leave before I call the police.”

“The police!” Constance was incensed. She leveled a glare at me.

“You’re just a placeholder, dear. A warm body for when he gets plus-one invites to business events.

He only cares about himself and his work.

And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but time moves faster than you think for women like us. ”

My cheeks were hot.

“Get out now!” Will huffed.

She turned on her heel, and he followed her to the door. But she didn’t miss the chance to get in one more swipe. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’ll blink and ten years will disappear, and he’ll still be working.”

I recognized the ire in her expression. It was the look my mother had in her eyes every time a man walked out of our house for the last time.

Before I could collect myself enough to either run or seriously contemplate therapy to unpack my innate desire not to run, a selfish sort of comfort coiled around my waist.

Will wanted me. He was choosing me.

Once Constance was out the door, Will returned to me in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” He buried his head deep in my neck.

Mia came around the corner with a pizza on a stone, completely unfazed by her mother’s performance, and somehow the evening resumed. It felt like a trial by fire. I was proud to have made the cut, but after Constance’s outburst, I was left wondering what exactly I had earned my way into.