The not knowing is killing me. I grab my phone and text him.
Everything ok?
I hold my phone in front of my face like a crazy person, willing him to reply. Five minutes go by. I climb into bed and prop my phone up on a pillow in front of my face. I'm hungry. We had skipped dinner, but I ignore it. I stare at my phone so long I fall asleep, jerking when he calls me.
"Will?"
"Hey."
He sounds tired. "What'd your mom say?"
"Don’t worry about her. She was just not expecting to come home to that. I think she was more weirded out by me having someone over than us being asleep."
"Are you sure?"
"Cross my heart."
I hear him yawn. "Did you want to talk more tomorrow?"
"No, I'm good. I don’t want to hang up."
I laugh. "You sound like you're about to fall asleep."
"’M not," he mumbles before yawning again.
His yawns are contagious, and I yawn. "You're making me sleepy."
"I wish I was there."
That makes me pout. "I wish you were too."
"Will you go with me to prom?"
"Really?"
There is a long pause. "Will?" I wonder if he's fallen asleep.
"I'm here."
"Did you hear what I asked?"
"I did. I was just thinking of a way to say what I wanted to say without it seeming lame."
"Lame? Just spit it out."
"I want everyone to see you're with me."
I snort. "I'm pretty sure they all know that."
"I get that they see us kiss, but I want everyone to know you're my girlfriend."
I don’t get it. "Will, everyone knows it. Is there something else?"
"Aren't girls supposed to be all about prom? I just want to make you happy."
"I don't really care about prom. All I want is you, Will."
"I'm all yours. I'd like to go only if you want to."
Hearing him say that makes me melt. "Oh, Will. Of course I'll go to prom with you."
Our phone conversation goes on between yawns for another fifteen minutes. After a ‘no, you hang up first’ battle, I finally hang up and fall asleep.
Chapter 13
Present
Brian gives me a strange look as I return to my seat. I smile brightly and look away, blinking back tears that are threatening to spill. Why had I even gone outside with him? That was a stupid mistake, and I need to be more careful. It is taking everything not to pull out my cell phone and purchase a seat on the next flight out of here. As much as I want to escape and put as many miles as I can between myself and these painful memories, I cannot hurt my brother like that. It means so much to him that I came, and after meeting Christine, I was glad that I had, even if other stuff hurt.
It strikes me as odd, though that in all the times Brian or my mother and I had talked over the years, neither of them had ever brought Will up. He seems pretty ensconced in their lives. Did they hide his involvement on purpose? I need to relax, I just sit there, nervously waiting for Will to come back inside and sit back down. I’m so distracted I jump when my uncle Chip lowers himself into Will's seat instead.
"Hey, Bri. Will had to take off. He wasn’t feeling well." Chip glances at me. "He wanted me to let you know."
He left because of me. I know it. I feel awful until I remember this is my brother's wedding. If someone should leave, it should be him, but I still feel bad. There are times I hate Will, for what had happened and for what he had done. I lost a piece of myself that night, and in all of these years, have never found it. That night changed me. I was so naïve and trusting and mostly in love. I am no longer naïve, and I cannot say with certainty I trust anyone other than myself. Love, that one I'm stuck with. As much as I hate Will sometimes, I will always love him. Sometimes, still caring for him that way is what hurts the most.
After the reception, I ride back with Brian and Christine to their place. Brian wants to show off their condo, and I’m curious to see him living like a grown up. Their building is small, and their place is on the third floor. They have one assigned spot that Christine's car is already in, so parking is interesting given the time of night. Brian lucks out, catching a spot close to the building when someone leaves. They hold hands as I follow behind, envying the gesture. Christine turns back to point out things as we walk up. There is no elevator. Halfway up the stairs, I think about taking my shoes off, but I’d be barefoot, so gross.
When we reached their door, I compliment the wicker wreath they have hanging on it. Something makes me guess it’s Christine's. The door opens into a little foyer. To the right, there’s an open concept living room, dining room, and a guest bedroom they use as an office, and to the left is the kitchen and master bedroom. Straight ahead are two closets
