Page 42 of Whatever It Takes

She cringes. “Moffy’s love of Batman is not going anywhere, much to his dad’s dismay.”

“Cool,” I say with a smile. It’s amusing.

“Will you watch it with me?” Maximoff asks me again. “Pleeeeeassssee.”

“Sure—”

He’s already grabbing my hand and tugging me to the big TV near the collectible toys. Blinds are snapped shut over the windows and glass door for privacy. I’m introduced to a couple extra bodyguards that Lily is leaving with her son and me.

Both men stand near the entrance like silent shadows.

Lily runs around, grabbing keys. She calls out to me. “The fridge is stocked and you remember where the good snacks are?!”

“Break room, bottom cabinet,” I mumble under my breath.

Lily doesn’t hear me, but she’s rushed and glances at the clock. “Thank you! I’ll be back soon!”

She exits in a hurry, and her son stares up at me like I’m his total world for the next hour. Maybe because I am.

If Maximoff even knew how I came into his dad’s life, would he hate me?

My stomach twists, and I try not to think about that. Moffy is a good kid. He just sits on a yellow beanbag and watches the movie, and when his favorite parts come on, he glances back to make sure I’m paying attention.

One hour and two bowls of popcorn later, the kid is out. Soft snores coming from his mouth. Finding an oldAnt-Manfleece blanket on a shelf, I rip open the packaging and then cover Maximoff.

Babysitting duties accomplished. Yay me. I lean back against a bookcase, action figures on the shelves, and I scroll through Tumblr.

Willow hasn’t answered a questionnaire since she left for Wakefield. Either she doesn’t have time to do one or she’s just not into them anymore. She reblogged a couple gif sets of that guy fromGilmore Girlsthat she says I remind her of, so that’s a good thing, right? She’s still thinking about me.

Shit, I need to stop dwelling on this. I run a hand through my hair and bury my head on my knees. I should be working and avoiding all thoughts about Willow. Seconds away from grabbing my backpack and fishing out my laptop, my cell rings.

She’s Skyping.

My chest lightens, my lips lift. It’s like someone switching on the lights in a dark room, and I know I need to figure out how to find that switch when she’s not around. But it’s just hard.

“Hey,” she says, beaming when she sees me. Christmas morning can’t even beat getting to talk to her.

Underneath my happiness is a gnawing sensation. Like something eating me from the inside-out. Termites in my basement, eroding the foundation. I don’t know how to shake the feeling.

Focusing on Willow, I notice that she’s sitting at her organized wooden desk. Pens and pencils stashed in a cup.

She must be Skyping from her computer, since I have view of most of her room, including her opened door. Students pass by in the hallway.

In another life, could that have been me? College. A dorm. Friends. In another life, I would have lived there and hated every second of it. But I hate being away, too.

I feel like I’m seventeen again, hating two polarizing things and not being able to find peace within the middle. Split apart. Trying to be sewn back together. It hurts. I hate that it hurts.

I meet Willow’s eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper back, trying not to wake Moffy. “You look pretty cheerful.”

“So do you,” she replies. “Or at least, more than last weekend.”

Last weekend, I had two hours of sleep and downed four Lightning Bolts!—Willow told me that if I drank any more energy drinks she was sending Daisy to come check on me.

She scans my surroundings. “Are you at Superheroes & Scones?”

I nod and then flash the phone toward the sleeping toddler and then back to me.