“Might have been.”
There was a moment of silence from Willa. “Wow. He must be brilliant in bed to have kept you from your rake and gardening gloves.”
“Well, he’s vigorous and uses a lot of energy,” Bo replied. Physical energyandemotional energy, as it turned out.
“Uses a lot of energy? He’s a man, not a front-loading washing machine, Bo.”
There was a tetchiness to Willa’s tone that Bo didn’t like. “Why are you so grumpy this morning?” she asked, swinging her legs out of bed and stretching. “You’re sharper than usual.”
Another moment of silence. “I have to go to the States,” Willa finally said, blunt and to the point.
“For the film?”
“No.”
Willa’s short, one-word answer said more than Bo think she realized. “Oh. This is about Berg. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. No . . . maybe . . . I guess I’ll find out when I get to him.”
Bo opened her curtain. Summer sunshine was pouring into her garden, the sky a crisp blue. “Did he call you?”
“No,” Willa admitted. “A friend of a friend got in touch with me. Said she’d seen him at a party.” She paused, before her tone changed. “There’s a new girlfriend, apparently. Known to be a bit of a party girl.”
“Oh,” Bo said, apropos of nothing. She never knew what to say where Berg was concerned.
“Exactly,” Willa carried on. “It’s like, he’s in recovery, or he’s meant to be. This new . . .new girlfriendcan’t be good for him, can she?”
“I don’t know,” Bo spoke honestly. “I haven’t met her. Maybe she is good for him though. He’s been alone for a long time—”
“He’s meant to be alone!” Willa exclaimed. “That’s part of his recovery, remember?”
“Yes, but that was for what, a year?” Bo chewed on her lip. “He’s been in recovery longer than that now.”
“Yes, but—” Willa began, before she abruptly stopped, the line falling silent. Not that she needed to finish her sentence. Bo knew more about Berg and Willa than either of them probably realized. Berg and Willa’s friendship crossed both continents and time, and they were feted as the best Hollywood couple that never was. Bo knew exactly what Willa had been about to say without her saying it:but it was meant to be me.
“How’s Scarrow?” Bo asked instead, and she heard Willa sigh.
“Oh, he’s okay. He’s really pushing me on this film. Every day I feel like I’m giving the performance of my life, and he’s never happy with it. We do take after take after take after take.” Willa took a breath. “I haven’t told him yet that I need to go to LA for a few days.”
“Wills . . .” Bo started warningly, but Willa cut her off.
“I will, don’t worry. You know I’d never jeopardize a film. Not when so many people are so invested in it, and we’ve come so far along in filming. I’ll take a weekend and be back on setby Monday. I just need to talk to Berg. I need to make sure he’s okay. That he’s not going to fall off the wagon again.”
“What if he is okay?” Bo asked, before she thought it through, and there was silence from the other end of the phone.
“What do you mean?”
Bo chewed on her lip before she spoke. “I mean, what if Berg is okay? What will you do then?”
There was another pause, heavier this time. Bo could almost hear Willa frowning, the sound of her breath catching.
“I’d be fine. I just want him to be well. I’ve always wanted him to be well,” Willa said, her voice soft.
Bo closed her eyes. She knew Willa meant it, of course she did, but sometimes, Bo wondered if Willa needed Berg tonotbe okay. Because if Berg was broken, he still needed her. Willa would still have a role to play, a purpose to serve. If she couldn’t be the girlfriend, she could be the nurse.
If Berg got better —reallybetter — what would that mean for her? For their friendship?
Bo knew it wasn’t selfishness. It was just that Willa had built so much of her heart around saving Berg that Bo wasn’t sure she’d know what to do without him to fix. Bo loved Willa like a sister, and she worried about the day when Willa had to cross that bridge.
