Improvise

by Melanie Rachel

He rubbed the back of his head roughly. “It’s just . . . Things happen, Elizabeth, but I would appreciate it if you called me after. Even texted me. Just let me know you’re all right before you go off the grid, okay?”

  She nodded. “I promise. You too, right?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry to bring it up,” he said apologetically. “I mean, we’ve not been going out that long and I don’t want to sound possessive. It’s not about that.” He took her hand. “You didn’t do it to worry me and you were dealing with the situation.” He met her gaze. “It’s just that my parents went out one night and never came back, and it’s, you know, it’s still a problem for me.”

  “Oh Will,” Elizabeth whispered guiltily. “I should have thought . . .”

  He shook his head at her. “It’s a problem for me when I can’t find the people I love,” he continued. “I’m better than I was, but I still worry, and you were out of touch for hours.”

  Elizabeth let the word “love” pass. He cared for her, she knew, but he didn’t seem aware he’d used that word, and it wasn’t a good time to press the point. “I promise not to do it again, Will. I had no idea anyone was aware I was even out there.” She pressed his hand. “Other than Lopez, of course.”

  “By the way,” Will said softly, “I owe that entire VFW membership a steak dinner. And Lopez gets a case of beer if he wants it. Scotch, whatever.”

  She chuckled and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be the most popular man at Post 711.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The light was beginning to fade as Elizabeth opened her eyes. She silently watched Will sleep. His face, bathed in weakening sunlight, was unguarded, almost boyish in its repose. It made her wonder what he’d been like as a child. Had he always been so solemn, she wondered, or was that a result of his parents’ accident? Had he always been wound so tight, or was that due to the heavy expectations he must have faced from his family? It was difficult, at times, to think of Will as ever having been young.

  She propped herself up on one elbow. He was lying atop the covers on his side, his long legs bent, one hand under his cheek. She’d wanted to sleep a bit more, uncharacteristically exhausted from the day’s events. Will had accompanied her downstairs, and they’d been talking when she fell asleep. He must have dozed off not long after. She smiled at the shadow on his jawline, his carefully trimmed but now entirely mussed dark hair, how his lips were slightly parted, the way he took two soft breaths and then paused before taking another. She wriggled her bare toes against the soft white sheets and lowered her head to curl into his chest. When he threw an arm over her and pulled her close, she sighed contentedly.

  “Elizabeth,” came a deep, sleepy voice, “are you awake?”

  “Mmm hmm,” she replied lazily, pulling her head back to meet his gaze.

  There was a short silence while he looked at her and rubbed her back under the cropped t-shirt. Then his stare intensified, and he said, in a quiet voice, “If you don’t want to talk about what happened with the photographers, I’ll understand, but I think you might have left something out of your story.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. If she’d just told him that she didn’t want to talk about it, he’d accept it. But he won’t forget. He’ll just wait until I’m ready.

  She swallowed hard and then spoke. “I wasn’t thinking cameras.” Elizabeth glanced away from Will, replying softly. He bent closer to hear her. “When they stopped and reached . . . I thought they had weapons. I was absolutely sure of it.”

  Will’s arms tightened around her. “No wonder you reacted the way you did.”

  “What does that mean?” Elizabeth asked defensively. “I didn’t overreact. They deserved what they got.” She struggled to sit up.

  Will released her and let her settle before he sat up next to her. “Of course they did,” he said soothingly. “I meant your reaction afterwards. Your uncle told me you sat in the VFW for nearly two hours before calling him.”

  She could hear the worry in his voice. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her arms on them. “It’s hard to get out of your system, you know?” she replied flatly, laying her forehead on her arms. “De Roos wasn’t so long ago. It’ll pass.” It will.

  Will stroked her hair. “I know I can’t really understand what you’re going through, but sometimes it can help to just talk. If you ever need someone to listen, I’m here.”

  Elizabeth leaned into his hand, his touch easing her tension. Could he be any sweeter? “Thanks.” Her stomach rumbled, a very loud sound in an otherwise quiet room.

  Will chuckled. “When did you eat last?”

  “Umm,” she said, brows pinching together as she thought about her day. “Breakfast,” she concluded sheepishly.

  “Didn’t you eat at your aunt’s?” he asked before he recalled he hadn’t seen her take any food.

  She shook her head.

  “No wonder your stomach sounds like a leviathan,” he said jokingly. “For pity’s sake, Elizabeth, you’re one of the smartest women I know—you should be able to remember to eat.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Leviathan?” she snorted, nearly humming with the pleasure of such a casually loving gesture. “Have you had many opportunities for comparison?”

  He laughed. “My sister loved dragons until very recently,” he replied. He paused for a moment, and his forehead furrowed. “In fact, she might still, but doesn’t want me to make fun of her.” He swung his feet over the side of the bed.

  Elizabeth smiled. “My sister loves them, too, but a leviathan is a sea creature, not a dragon.”

  “Oh yeah?” Will asked, opening the second drawer on his dresser. “You think there can’t be sea dragons?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I concede the point.”

  “Which sister?” he asked while he rummaged through some clothes.

  “Mary,” she replied, thinking about her shyest sister. Mary had read How to Train Your Dragon when she was around eight and had become enthralled with dragons of all kinds, toting home stacks of books from the library, drawing them, dreaming about them, playing elaborate games in the woods near the house where she designed an entire dragon kingdom, complete with rudimentary social rules, class systems, and languages. She’d even asked Elizabeth to help her build a lair. No dragons had lived in it, but Mary had spent a lot of time there when the weather was good.

  She’d sent Mary to bed one night and turned to the dishes when she heard her mother yelling. Upstairs, she found Fanny towering over Mary, berating her for “being a baby.” Everyone knew that dragons didn’t exist, she’d barked, and Mary had better get used to living in the real world. For every point she made, Fanny gave Mary’s braid a sharp tug. Elizabeth reached them near the end of the tirade, quickly removing her sister’s hair from her mother’s hand and earning herself a sharp slap to the back of her head. When their mother had at last stormed away, Mary blinked twice, then silently followed Elizabeth to Jane’s room, her dark eyes wide with fright behind her thick glasses, one hand in her sister’s, the other clutching her green and purple stuffed dragon to her chest.

  Jane was scribbling in a notebook with her earbuds in and her chemistry book open on the desk in front of her. She’d taken one look at their faces before she tossed her pencil down and turned off the music.

  The three had cuddled in bed together, whispering sisterly secrets until Mary had asked, in a small, tremulous voice, “Are dragons really for babies?”

  “Dragons are for everyone,” Jane had assured her.

  “I love dragons,” Elizabeth had declared.

  Jane had begun to spin a fairy tale about a blue dragon, and when she finished, Elizabeth took over. They wove story after story of kind dragons and smart dragons and evil dragons and a knight named Mary who, through acts of selfless bravery and deft dragon-handling, had saved everyone in town. “And that is why,” Jane had concluded, in the wee hours of the morning, “we live in MARY-ton.”

  Mary had giggled and dropped off to sleep. />
  Elizabeth had fallen asleep shortly after, the sound of Jane’s quiet crying into her pillow unable to keep her awake. She had long ago learned not to bother crying about anything her mother said or did. There was no point. Instead, she threw her arms over both Mary and Jane as if that could magically protect them. When Elizabeth woke again sometime before dawn, Jane was back at work, her task lamp lowered over her textbook, her eyes bloodshot, her pencil moving relentlessly across the paper.

  Elizabeth was jolted from her reverie by the sound of a drawer being opened and closed. Will was getting dressed. He pulled out a sweater and stuck his arms in before flipping the rest of it over his head.

  He caught her steady gaze and stepped back to the bed. “I’ll heat up some dinner while you get dressed,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. “Come on up when you’re ready.”

  Elizabeth reached out to grab her toes, slowly stretching her back out. Her phone buzzed and vibrated on the side table, and she rolled over to grab it.

  Princess?

  She groaned. Abby. Not my fault.

  Had a one-off job for you but the guy doesn’t want to work with royalty.

  Funny. This princess thing was annoying, but if someone wouldn’t hire her over it, he was crazy. She knew she was good.

  Serious. This is not good for your image.

  Elizabeth could just see Abby saying this with that expression that always made her feel a little stupid. What do you want me to do? she typed. She couldn’t control the newspapers, after all, and she wasn’t going to stay cooped up in Will’s apartment forever.

  You know you can always work for us. The boys are good with it. Let things cool down a bit, make some real money.

  She sighed. Abby was working as a civilian contractor for the military. It required a lot of last-minute travel and wasn’t always conducted in safe locations, but the pay was incredible. However, she’d made up her mind. Whereas Abby left the Marines so she could make more money, Elizabeth had left because it was time she returned home. Now there was Will to think about, too.

  Elizabeth hadn’t even really wanted to apply to officer training, but she’d thought she ought to do so, given all the time and money the Marines had invested in her education. When her request was summarily denied by Captain Carter, she’d been annoyed, but also relieved. When he’d passed off her software as his own, she’d been angry. Cool in the face of her indignation, he’d transferred her. It had all made the decision to separate easier. Yet here Abby was, trying to draw her back in.

  She rubbed her ear. No, thanks. I’m good here.

  The offer stands. Just get rid of the tiara or it’ll be tough to get you gigs.

  I’ll do my best. She pulled out a glass and filled it with water.

  You always do.

  Will arrived at work early, but he knew Wanda would still beat him, so he wasn’t surprised to hear her voice as he walked up the empty hall to his office. What did surprise him was hearing Charles’s. He could hear everything being said in the outer office, but he was still too far away to be seen. Something—he couldn’t say what—made him stop and listen.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Bingley,” Wanda said pleasantly. “How was your trip?”

  “Productive,” Charles replied warmly. “In the end, I met with fourteen potential clients. I think there are three projects we’ll want to be involved in, and another that’s a possibility.”

  “Good news, then,” Wanda said breezily. “Do you have a meeting with the boss this morning?”

  He thought Charles probably grinned at that. “In other words,” his friend said, “I’m in the way?”

  “Not you, sir, never,” Wanda replied blandly. Will frowned. Wanda generally wasn’t rude, but that had sounded almost insolent. He picked up his bag.

  “I was a little surprised to learn that Will has a girlfriend,” Charles said, and Will put his bag back down.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mr. Bingley,” Wanda replied. “Mr. Darcy doesn’t discuss his private life with me.”

  “So that’s a yes,” Charles responded. “Do you know her?”

  Wanda sighed. Will could imagine her removing her reading glasses from their perch on the end of her nose. She only did that when she was irritated with him about something, and she seemed to be displeased with Charles. He wished he could see them, but if he moved any closer, they’d spy him right away.

  “Mr. Bingley,” Wanda said in a long-suffering tone, “forgive me for not entertaining you, but I have work to do. Over the past six weeks, I’ve wasted a good deal of time explaining to your sister that you were not in the country and that no, Mr. Darcy would not like to speak with her in your stead.”

  Will hadn’t known that. He’d have to buy Wanda some flowers.

  “Now that you are back from walkabout,” she continued, and Will grinned at the gibe, “Mr. Darcy is going on his first vacation in five years, and he has given me exactly thirty hours’ warning.” She cleared her throat. “I suggest that if you have questions about his personal life, you pose them to him when you meet.”

  Forget the flowers. The woman was going to get a big holiday bonus and a raise.

  There was silence for a moment, but Will waited it out. As he had suspected, Wanda was processing what Charles had told her, but she had more to say.

  “You did ask him, didn’t you? And he wouldn’t tell you?”

  Will nodded. He had refused to discuss it. It wasn’t any of Charles’s business.

  “I’m worried about him, Wanda,” Charles said. He sounded genuine, but Will chafed at the notion that he required a keeper. “Don’t you think he’s getting serious too quickly?”

  Unbelievable, Will thought. He tried to school his expression as he leaned down to collect his briefcase again. He clutched the handle so tightly his knuckles were white. Before he could charge into the office, he heard Wanda huff indignantly.

  “You think the boss is getting serious too quickly?” she cried. “Out. Get out. I’ll call you when he’s ready for your meeting.” There was a scuffing sound. “And take your ridiculous bribe with you.”

  Bribe?

  When Charles rounded the corner out of the office, he was carrying two cups of coffee. Will snorted. Wanda didn’t even drink coffee. Green tea was her drink. It made him grimace even thinking about it.

  “Morning, Charles,” he said agreeably, as though he’d just arrived. “Meeting this morning?”

  He was gratified that Charles seemed embarrassed.

  “Yes,” Bingley stated firmly, and held out one hand. “Coffee?”

  Wanda’s polished nails were clicking against the keyboard at a punishing rate when Will stepped in.

  “Good morning, Wanda,” he greeted her.

  Her head flew up. “Good morning, boss,” she replied with a smile. She indicated the desk. “I’m almost ready for your flight from responsibility.”

  He grinned at her, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy on the brink of summer break, and her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “You’re the one who pushed me to have some fun, Wanda,” he teased her. “You can’t complain now that I’ve taken your advice.”

  She stared at him. “Holy frijoles, boss, turn down the wattage on that smile. The facial recognition photo won’t match, and you’ll put security into a panic.”

  He smirked.

  “Mr. Bingley was in here earlier to ask about Ms. Bennet,” she said.

  “Was he?” Will asked as though he were curious.

  Wanda’s expression soured. “I chased him out. Just wanted to give you a heads up in case he mentions it later.”

  She really was worth every penny. Will shook his head and moved past her desk to his office. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and settled in. Without being told, Wanda knew when he was ready for her, and she entered his office to brief him about his schedule for the day. He’d had her do that ever since he’d disastrously insulted Elizabeth. He made mistakes, lots of them—but he hoped never t
o make the same one twice.

  “You know,” Wanda said when they were wrapping up, “you wouldn’t have been half as interested in Ms. Bennet if she hadn’t called you on your behavior. You need a woman who won’t let you have your way all the time.”

  He scratched the back of his head. She knows me a little too well, I think. “Thank you for the insight into my character, Ms. Soames,” he said, shaking his head. “I think I have it handled.”

  Wanda laughed gaily. “Oh yeah, boss. You’ve got her handled. I’m sure you’re right.”

  He just shook his head at her while she wagged her eyebrows at him. Then she stopped, serious again. “You’ve done yeoman’s work, Mr. Darcy,” she told him. “You’ve taken care of your sister, your business, your father’s business, your cousins’ money, your employees—you’ve even taken care of Mr. Bingley’s difficulties.” She gazed at him approvingly, and he felt the tips of his ears growing warm. He always flushed there first. “It’s your turn.”

  Will met Charles with a cool gaze.

  “Morning again, Will,” Charles said cheerfully, as he entered Darcy’s office. “I have some great prospects to discuss.”

  “No more attempts to gain information about Elizabeth?” Will asked coldly.

  Charles grimaced and cast him a penitent look. “Nope. I confess I sent her information to our regular sources this morning, but a quick search online didn’t turn anything up. I’m here to apologize and say that I hope this works out, Will. And I’ll never try to wheedle information out of Wanda Soames again. I’m hopelessly outclassed.” He shrugged.

  “What do you mean, you sent her information to our regular sources?” Will asked, incredulous. “Who asked you to do that?”

  Charles raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think I needed permission. It’s SOP, isn’t it?”

  “Charles,” Will said with a sigh, “it’s only SOP when the person you’re dating works for a competitor. You know, like all of your girlfriends.” He felt a headache coming on.