I’ve eaten half her pizza, which also makes me feel like a dick, but it’s just, it was so good. I never would have put those toppings together, but I will from now on.
Willa stands and holds her hand out for my plate. “I’m going to clean up a little.”
“Let me help.”
“No. I’ve got it.” She nods at the near-empty box of pizza. “Would you like to take that home with you?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” Is that hint? Is she trying to get me to go? The thing is, I don’t want to leave. I like it here in the world’s smallest apartment. I’ve gotten a better glimpse of the place this time around, and while part of me can’t imagine living in a home the size of my walk-in closet, she’s done so much to make the place feel homey, like adding colorful pillows on the sofa and a rug that goes with those perfectly. There are cool old concert and movie posters on her white walls that really pep up the place and then there’s the cat, Barney. He’s been sitting between us almost the entire time, like he’s guarding her. He’s let me pet him a little, but after a few swipes of my hand, a low growl starts and doesn’t stop until I remove my hand. He’s territorial. I get that. I’m feeling a bit territorial about the woman myself.
“Willa?”
“Yes?” She steps out of her cracker box of a kitchen. “You need something?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Why?” I want to laugh because that’s exactly the response that Brent had for me about the garden party.
“My parents are having brunch and––”
“No, thank you.” She smiles sweetly.
“No? My dad really wants you to come.”Iwant her to come.
“Yourfatherwas very nice but still no. Thanks for asking, though.” The same smile is plastered on her face.
Things must’ve been as bad as I’d feared today. “You don’t want to accompany me to brunch tomorrow?”
“Hudson…”
“My sister will be there. She’s home for the summer. She’s nice. You’ll like her.”
“I’m sure she’s, uh, great, but I’ve got things to do tomorrow.”
I’m dying to ask “Like what?” but I can’t do that. It’s none of my business. Instead, I go with “Please?”
Willa sighs and rubs her face with both hands. I’m stressing her out, apparently. She moves closer but doesn’t sit. “Look, Hudson…”
Uh, oh…
“I think you’re wonderful. Lord knows you’re gorgeous and kind and any woman would be happy to have brunch with your family, but––”
“But not you?”
Willa shakes her head. “Not me. I’ve had my fill of people like––.”
“Like my mother? Monica?”
She shakes her head, but it’s not convincing. “Just––people who think they’re better than everyone.”
I’m frowning, but I get it. I know how they are.
“Don’t get me wrong, Hudson, they probably are better than me, and that’s okay. I’m happy in my world of embroidery, Barney, British mysteries, and the rest. I like my life.” She pauses. “Pretty much.”
“I see.” Standing from her plaid sofa that nearly matches my jacket. Why am I just noticing that now? “I understand, Willa.” I move past her to the door but turn. Why does this hurt so fucking much? Rejection sucks. “You’re beautiful, kind, and someday, one lucky bastard is going to get to share your world of Barney, embroidery, and British mysteries with you.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “If not, I’m okay.”
“You’re more than okay, Willa Clariday. You’re way more than okay. You’re extraordinary.”
