Abuela looked around, obviously impressed by the fact that the house was able to have a backup generator. 30 years in Florida, countless hurricanes and power outages, and they had never even considered getting a generator.
“Probably a good idea if we don’t overtax it. I don’t know how much fuel we have in it, and the AC needs to run, or we will all melt.” Will Sr. said, then excused himself to his room.
Will took a step toward her, mouth already forming a word— Giana cut in. “I’ll show Lizzie and Abuela their rooms!”
She bounded over excitedly as she led them away. Will was left, hands in his pockets, and whatever he wanted to say lingering.
The guest rooms in the Pemberley’s estate dwarfed Lizzie’s roomat home. Abuela was delighted with it and the giant king-sized bed. She said she was tired and happily retired for the evening.
Lizzie and Giana were seated in the other guest room, sharing a bottle of wine Giana had smuggled up for them, and talking about growing up in the house. “Most people, I don’t even think, know that my mom’s Cuban. I’ve had people who have full-on called me a liar. They just don’t think that blonde hair and light skin are like a thing in Cuba, you know?” Giana was explaining.
Lizzie nodded, understanding.
“It just made me always feel like I guess I don’t quite belong in either world, but I never cared much. I felt like I’m just me, and that’s good with me. But Will I think was always trying to fit into both worlds and kinda seeming out of place with every effort. I tell him all the time, he’s not Dad, and he’s not Mama. He doesn’t have to try to be all that just one of them wants, or to live up to the expectations of either group. But I don’t know. I feel like he gets in his own head about it.”
Lizzie nodded again. “It’s hard to live up to the expectations of what we think we need to be.” Lizzie thought back on their interactions. Had that been what his apparent arrogance had been? Just him trying to fit what he thought was the correct way to be?
“So what’s up with you two?” Giana’s question almost made Lizzie choke on her wine.
“What?! What do you mean? He’s just like a friend. No, not even that. More like a colleague or a boss…” Lizzie cleared her throat, composed herself, and then started over, “What do you mean?”
Giana had a wide smile on her face as if she got the answer she was looking for. “Uh huh, sure. Just so you know, I know he asked you out. I know you said no, and I know he’s trying not to care.”
Lizzie groaned and flopped her head over as if she just died. “I was so mean when I rejected him. I didn’t know the whole story.”
“So why didn’t you tell him that?”
“Well, I haven’t really had a chance…” Lizzie tried to recall all the reasons why she hadn’t, but her mind kept going back to that dance, and how he’d made her feel. “And I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t, I don’t, know what to say.”
Giana poured the last of the wine into their glasses. “He called me chubby!” Lizzie blurted out, suddenly remembering one of the things that upset her. “And he didn’t give me credit for a thing I found.”
Giana looked at her skeptically and said, “Well, that all appears to be a fair point, and I’m not saying you should forgive him. BUT, I will just let you know that Will’s room is the last door, down the hall on the right. And I happen to know he is up late most nights, working, so he wouldn’t be bothered if you decided to drop by.” She winked at Lizzie and stood up, stretching. “Well, I’m calling it a night. See you in the morning!”
Giana slipped out, leaving Lizzie to let her words sink in. Lizzie thought that she had probably been pretty hasty with her rejection of Will. He was attractive, rich, and a fantastic dancer. So what if he was a bit quick to judge at the beginning? Was she too embarrassed to even see what could be? And it’s not like she was beyond reproach! She had made assumptions about him, too, and the company he kept.
Lizzie took another sip of wine, feeling her courage build, until she had convinced herself that going down to Will’s room was a good idea.
Lizzie knocked lightly, heart hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it through the door. She was two seconds from bolting when it flew open.
Will stood there in sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, hair still damp from a shower, looking unfairly good for someone who’d just crushed her soul with one dance.
“Lizzie?” His voice was soft, worried. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah! Totally. Just… chillaxing.” She cringed the second the word left her mouth.
Will’s mouth twitched. His eyes flicked to the wineglass in her hand. “Giana nightcap?”
“Little bit.” She lifted the glass like evidence. “Anyway, I just came to say I’m sorry. For believing George. For assuming the worst about you without asking. I was… judgmental.”
Will’s jaw flexed at George’s name. “It’s fine. Honestly? Probably smart. With work and everything. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
The silence stretched, thick and horrible.
Lizzie tried again, voice smaller. “Unless…”
Will’s eyebrow lifted. “Unless?”
Her face burned. “No unless. Never mind. Inappropriate bad. Career good. No unless.”
