by Amanda Ashby
Chapter Eighteen
Riley fought back a yawn. If she was better at math she’d try and work out just how long it had been since she’d slept, but even thinking about it caused her brain to hurt. Besides, in about two minutes she would be home and she could sleep for as long as she wanted to. She yawned again as the taxi pulled up outside the old Victorian house.
Summer had long since gone and the yard was covered in crisp yellow leaves that swirled around each time a gust of wind rushed past. It had been nice to be away—but it was nice to be home too. And was that Will sitting on the top step drinking a cup of coffee?
She shut her eyes and opened then again. It was a little trick she’d learned during her trip to England, where, as well as seeing where Jane Austen had lived and written, she’d also managed to see at least one Will a day. Unfortunately, when she’d looked at them again, she’d discovered that they were all poor imitations of the real thing. Too short, too tall, eyes too dark. None of them were him. But as she dared peer up again, there was no denying that the guy sitting on the step, his mouth twisted into a small half smile that just about showed his killer dimples, was definitely her Will.
Except he wasn’t her Will anymore.
Tom had told her that she needed to figure out how she’d changed and what she really wanted, which was why she’d told Gloria that she would be taking the promotion—but only after she’d used up all of the vacation time she’d accrued. Then she’d booked a trip to England. But now she was back, and she didn’t feel any different.
Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of the guy who hadn’t loved her enough to keep his word. She still wished she could have been enough for him. The most heartbreaking thing was that the month away hadn’t changed anything—if Will had really loved her he’d have figured out a way to keep their relationship together. He could solve any problem. Which meant the only reason she hadn’t heard from him in the last thirty-one days and twenty-one hours was because he didn’t want to talk to her. That he didn’t love her.
He’d locked her out and that was the way it was going to stay.
Her throat went dry as Will stood up and cautiously walked toward her. She’d seen that look on his face before whenever he bumped into an ex-girlfriend that he didn’t want to see. But if he didn’t want to bump into her, then why was he here? Why wasn’t he in Indonesia, saving the world and breaking her heart? More to the point, why hadn’t she stayed longer in England? She could’ve done a Dickens tour. A Shakespeare one. Anything to avoid this current situation. But the cab driver was already pulling her bag out of the trunk, and Riley didn’t have a choice but to get out as well.
“Hey.” He took the suitcase while Riley paid the driver, who seemed indifferent to the emotional hailstorm that was swirling around their heads, because instead of staying to act as a buffer, he just climbed back into the taxi and drove away.
“Hey, yourself.” She tried to recall one of the many sentences she’d rehearsed for this exact situation. They’d have to meet again eventually, after all; he was her landlord. Unfortunately, none of them came to mind. All she could do was stare at him and wish that he wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her life. “H-how long have you been back?”
“Two weeks. I’ve got to say it kind of sucked to arrive home and discover that my downstairs neighbor was gone.” His light voice did terrible things to her pulse. “There was no fresh milk in my fridge, no little notes to say welcome home and not even any potted plants to trip over.”
“Oh.” She flushed. Would this conversation get easier, or would this horrible wall between them stay forever? She studied the sidewalk. “Well, I decided to go to England, and I was worried that the plants would die while I was away, so I gave them to Italy.”
“Italy’s looking after my potted plants?” Will quirked an eyebrow and Riley reluctantly smiled.
“Actually, that privilege went to her cute new neighbor. I’m afraid it was all part of a cunning plan.”
“Oh.” He nodded. The awkward silence returned until he spoke again. “So Jude said you’d gone on a Jane Austen tour. How was it?”
He spoke to Jude? More to the point, why hadn’t Jude told her?
“It was pretty amazing.” She still wasn’t sure what to make of seeing him here. What was he doing? “Though it turns out that the sanitation wasn’t so great back then. Seeing where Jane Austen went to the bathroom wasn’t really such a highlight.”
“You went on a trip of a lifetime and that was your takeaway?”
Actually, the takeaway was that you could change your country but not your feelings. “I guess.” The exhaustion hit suddenly, jet lag on top of trying to ignore the heat that was radiating from Will’s body. It was like visiting Willy Wonka’s while on the hell of all diets. It just wasn’t fair.
“So,” he said as he tilted his head. “I was hoping we could talk.”
Riley’s heart pounded in her chest as a slither of hope tried to burst through, but she pushed it back. She recognized the guarded expression in his eyes. Not that she was surprised. After all, she knew Will better than he knew himself, and of course he felt guilty. He was a nice guy. The best. But the idea of having to listen to him apologize for the fact that he broke her heart wasn’t something she was up for just yet.
“Actually, I’m kind of beat, so if you don’t mind I might go and catch up on some sleep.”
“Oh.” He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Of course. But, Riley, I’m really pleased you’re home. And when you’re feeling a bit more up to it, then could we have a conversation?”
“Sure.” She hurried up the path so that he couldn’t see that all she wanted to do was cry.
***
Will dropped down onto his new sofa and groaned. As far as master plans went, that was an epic failure. In fact it wasn’t even on the scale of epic failures it was so bad. Which kind of sucked, because all he’d thought about for the last two weeks was how he could grovel to Riley and make it right with her once and for all. Instead he’d come across like a tongue-tied idiot.
Have a conversation. What kind of loser said things like that?
He sighed as he went to the cage and scooped out Mr. Woodhouse, the guinea pig that he’d bought for Riley. He’d actually planned to be incredibly romantic and call him Darcy, but after spending half a day with the nose-twitching, moody pet, who in that time had eaten two new throw pillows and his favorite pair of shorts and refused to be left on his own for too long, Will realized that he’d gravely underestimated what his romantic gesture entailed.
“At least you need me.” Will looked around the apartment. He’d spent the last two weeks decorating it, just to show Riley how serious he was about staying in Seattle. He’d even let Danni talk him into buying a reading chair that cost more than he’d thought possible, just so that Riley would always have somewhere that she could curl up and be comfortable. He’d also bought several of Jude’s photographs, which now decorated the newly painted walls. The only thing he’d refused to do was replace the potted plants. There was only one person who could do that, and on account of how completely he’d just blown it, that would never happen.
Instead she would just continue to look at him from behind her glasses, like he was the guy who had broken her heart.
The worst thing was he couldn’t blame her. He was the guy who had broken her heart.
Will reached for his book—the sequel to My Darkest Vampire. Just when he’d thought that Stella and O’Neill would find some well-deserved happiness, O’Neill’s vengeful ex-girlfriend Morgan had appeared on the scene with five hundred years of payback in mind.
“So, Stella. I suppose I should thank you for keeping O’Neill occupied while I was busy escaping the wrath of the Hunters. But now that I’m back and O’Neill is mine—” Morgan said, her voice as sharp as a razor.
“You can talk all day, old woman.
But O’Neill can make up his own mind and he wants me.”
“Oh, does he?” Morgan purred. “We’ll see about that.”
Stella clamped down on her mouth, refusing to give Morgan the satisfaction. Stella and O’Neill had said the sacred words as the blue moon had hung heavy in the sky; they’d exchanged the rings of twigs and drunk from the cup that contained their combined blood. Which meant that under vampire lore, they were bonded, and it was a bond that could never be broken.
“If you don’t stop moping soon, I swear I’ll strangle you.” Tucker appeared in the doorway, not even bothering to knock. “In fact, between you and that depressed guinea pig, it’s enough to make me want to slit my wrists.”
“Always a joy to see you too, brother,” Will retorted, putting the book down. He lifted the guinea pig back into his cage. Mr. Woodhouse gave him a mournful look. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Paperwork, and lots of it.” Tucker waved a folder in the air. “And your final chance to back out. I mean, I’m happy to work as your liaison, but once the press gets wind of it you’ll be forever linked to the old man, no matter how much you try and avoid it. Are you sure that this is what you want?”
“I’m sure.” Will crossed the room. When he first arrived back, he’d quickly discovered that the work on the startup wasn’t nearly enough to stop him from thinking about the Riley-shaped hole in his life. And so he’d been on yet another jog, trying to burn off the restlessness that had crept into his bones, when he’d bumped into Sam from the community center and discovered that their new location had fallen through.
Will knew it wasn’t his fault, but he still couldn’t help but feel responsible for what had happened. Especially since he’d had the chance to fix it once, and hadn’t managed it. So this time, he would fix it.
He’d then gone back to Tucker and discussed it. If his father was serious about helping a charitable organization and getting him in the business, then it should be something local. It should be something that built communities up, not tore them down.
The first official meeting with the old man hadn’t been pleasant—despite the new understanding that they’d reached—but he’d pushed through and they’d brokered a deal. Will could have the building and set up whatever not-for-profit businesses he wanted in there, and his father would stay out of the way. Will would only have to deal with Tucker. It had been surprisingly cordial—his father had even had some good ideas, ones Will might not have had, and Will had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time his father’s suggestions would be helpful.
“Okay, everything’s here for you to sign. I’ll leave it with you and collect them in the morning.” Tucker frowned. “So, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a light on downstairs. Does that mean she’s back?”
“Back and not speaking to me? Yeah, pretty much.” Will let out another sigh and slumped back into the sofa.
“Will, it’s going to take time. And let’s face it—Riley’s read all the books and knows all of the happy-ending tropes. If you’re going to win her back, it’s going to take more than a coat of paint and guinea pig.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this before we did all of this?” Will demanded, waving his hand around the newly decorated apartment.
“Hell no. For a start, this place needed doing up. You’re not a backpacking student anymore; you’re a man. Plus, Danni said it would be a good way to keep you occupied until you can figure out the real way to get her back.”
“I don’t suppose Danni has any thoughts on how I should do that?”
“Sorry, buddy. My wife specifically told me that you have to figure this out on your own. You know Riley better than anyone. Oh, and if you want my advice—stop reading those stupid books. They’re turning you into a girl.”
“Riley says that reading is a personal and joyful experience that should never be mocked,” Will retorted, too late realizing that quoting Riley wasn’t a good way to win this argument. He let out a sigh. “Fine. No more O’Neill and Stella. Besides, despite what Morgan tries to do, she’ll never break the bond between those two. It’s too strong.”
“See? Girl,” Tucker retorted. “And I don’t know what this bonding thing is that you’re talking about but it sounds stupid. Now listen, I have to go, but please just figure out a way to make it right with Riley. Buy her flowers. Shoes. Diamonds. Whatever it takes.”
“She hates shop-bought flowers. Even the thought of shoe shopping makes her nauseous, and if I bought her diamonds she’d think that I hated—” Will stopped, widening his eyes as he thought of what Tucker had just said. You know Riley better than anyone. Of course. It was so obvious now. He turned to his brother and grinned. “Tucker, you’re a genius.”
“I am?” Tucker looked confused, but Will didn’t have time to explain it. His future happiness was on the line. And if this didn’t work, then he didn’t know what he would do.
Chapter Nineteen
“This is ridiculous. You didn’t need to bring them back now,” Riley grunted as she struggled to lift the heavy potted plant that Italy insisted on returning. “You could’ve just dropped them off over the weekend.” And let me get home half an hour earlier so that I could sulk in peace.
“Don’t be silly,” Italy retorted as she walked along, holding a much smaller plant. “Now that Will’s home, it’s only right that I return these to him. Please tell him how much I appreciated them. Especially since Reed asked me out. Never underestimate the power of a potted plant.”
“Or of a sneaky friend.” Riley narrowed her eyes as they reached the front door. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You want me to take them upstairs to Will so that we can talk.”
“Of course not,” Italy scoffed. She put down the plant in her hands and then took the large one from Riley. “You can’t talk while holding something so heavy. The plants can stay down here, but you need to go up, so dust the soil off your shirt and go and see him. Then he can help you carry them back up.”
“No.” Riley folded her arms and shook her head. “I know you’re only trying to help, but it’s no good. It’s not what I want.”
“Riley, I know you’re scared, but unless you talk to him it’s only going to get worse.”
How could it possibly get worse? Riley clamped down on her lower lip to stop from crying. “What if he wants to tell me things that I don’t want to hear?”
“Then you come and see me. I know people who can take him out before he can even open those pretty eyes of his. Or, if you want to be less violent, I can just have vodka and ice cream waiting. Either way, at least you’ll have some answers. Okay?”
No. Not okay. Not even a little bit. But then again, not much was okay these days. Short of avoiding Will forever, she supposed Italy was right.
“Fine. I’ll go and talk to him and then, if I want to sulk for the next hundred years, you have to let me.”
“With pleasure.” But instead of leaving, Italy folded her arms over her chest, probably to make sure that Riley didn’t run away. Riley sighed as she fumbled for her keys and opened the door. But before she could walk to her own apartment, she caught sight of a candy bar on the bottom step.
It was the duty-free kind that Will always bought her when he came home for a visit. She picked it up, then frowned as she realized that on the next step was a copy of Pride and Prejudice and a slice of chocolate cake with the little silver fork that she kept in her third drawer, just for eating cake. Riley gritted her teeth as she reached it for. On the next step was a ceramic coffee cup from her favorite café. And on the next stair was a fake spider.
As she scooped them up, music started playing from a Bluetooth speaker sitting on the following stair. Riley let out a groan. It was a recording of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” being played on a violin. No doubt by a guy named Louis.
Annoyance flared through her as the familiar scent of Will’s
cologne caught in her nose, and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the stairs wearing a faded linen shirt, his favorite jeans and bare feet.
“Hey,” he said.
“Don’t hey me,” Riley said, trying desperately not to notice that the top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing a peek of his smooth chest. She failed. “Will, what is this? Are you trying to woo me?”
“I think you’ll find that no one uses that word anymore. And don’t be mad at Italy for getting you here on time. I talked her into it. I think she felt sorry for me.”
“Italy doesn’t feel sorry for people. She strikes terror into all that cross her path,” Riley retorted. Will’s college sweater that she always used to wear when she got cold and that he kept trying to throw out and she kept not letting him was folded on the eighth stair. She snatched it up and added it to her pile as she joined him on the landing at the top.
“I think you’ll find she does have a soft spot for people who are complete idiots,” Will corrected. “Not that she agreed right away. In fact she spent most of the conversation telling me exactly what she thought of my behavior. I think she was a sailor in a past life.”
“I guess that’s something.” Riley reluctantly smiled. She knew full well that Italy wouldn’t have held back.
“And I know that putting a few of your favorite things on the stairs isn’t going to fix anything, but I thought it could at least convince you to talk. There are some things I need to say to you.”
“Okay,” Riley said as she sat down at the top of the stairs and crossed her legs. The conversation. She supposed it had to happen eventually. “But I don’t want to go into your apartment. Or mine. Neutral territory.”
