Bo frowned. “I really wish I hadn’t said that. I didn’t know Max then. Not like I know him now.”
Willa took a deep breath. “Max might be clever, and he might be talented, and he might be successful, but you are too, Bo.”
“I’m an out-of-work actress,” Bo replied, rolling her eyes.
“No. You’re an in-work florist, and a damn talented one at that. Ida Dynowsiak has been running her flower shop for decades, and you’re the first person she’s ever let go with her to New Covent Garden Market to help choose flowers. She respects your judgement and talent and so do I.” Willa hit Bo with the shirt again. “I wish you could see yourself like everyone else does. I wish you could see yourself like I see you.”
Bo made no reply. It was hard to see herself as anything other than what her mother had spent years telling her she was: a pretty face to sell and not much more. So, she chewed on her lip for a moment, saying nothing. Willa hit her with the shirt again.
“You’re amazing, Bo. But sometimes? Sometimes you’re so blind you can’t see what’s right in front of you, including just how amazing you are. Or,” Willa added with a sly grin, “when men are so crazy about you that they return your smile during amazing, romantic and passionate sex.”
She went to hit Bo with Max’s shirt again, but Bo was too quick for her, grabbing the purple fabric from her hand and wrenching it back.
“This belongs to me,” she reminded Willa with a grin.
“It’s hideous.”
“It’s Max’s,” Bo replied firmly, and Willa gave her an amazed look.
“God, you really are in love, aren’t you?” she remarked. “I’ve never seen you like this before. Never seen you so . . . what’s the word? Invested. Invested in a man.”
Bo shrugged. “It had to happen sometime. Look, I’m as surprised by this as anyone. I really did go into this arrangement with Max thinking I could sleep with him and not let feelings get involved. I mean, he was the perfect candidate, right? I didn’t find him attractive, I didn’t really like him, but he was conveniently there . . .” Bo sighed. “But oh, Wills, once I got to know him. Once I got to know him, it was like falling under a spell or something. I didn’t want to fall in love with him. I didn’t want to like him. But I did. Ido,”she corrected herself. “I do love him, and I do like him.”
“Well.” Willa lay back on Bo’s bed. “You need to tell him.”
“Ida said the same thing.”
“Ida’s right, but then, Ida’s always right. Come on, Bo, tell him. I’ve read his message to you. I know you’re reading it as he figured out you love him and ran for it, but there is another option.”
“There is?” Bo asked sceptically.
“Yep.” Willa sat up again, and without Max’s shirt to hit Bo in the face with, made do with poking her on the shoulder instead. “Maybe he thought that you’d figured out howhefeels, and didn’t care.”
It was like having the wind knocked out of her lungs. Bo stared at Willa, completely stunned, as well as suddenly, perhaps foolishly, full of hope.
“Really?” she breathed. “Do you think so?”
“Maybe.” Willa grinned. “Come on, let’s look up the word ‘extrapolate’ and then you can tell me more about this amazing, romantic and passionate sex you had.”
“You’re sitting on the sheets where we did it, so you already have a visual.”
Willa’s face changed, and she jumped up. “Eww, eww, eww. Bo, you’re sick, clean your sheets.”
Bo grinned. “I meant to; I didn’t know you were coming over. You distracted me.”
Willa’s smile faded. “I should have been over sooner. I shouldn’t have left it so long. I’m really sorry, Bo.”
Bo shook her head. “You had Berg stuff going on.”
“Yeah, I did, but it’s no excuse.”
“Look, Wills, about you and Berg, and you and Scarrow—”
Willa cut her off, however. “I’m going to be okay with Scarrow. Really, I am. Besides, it’s too late for me and Berg. It’s always been too late for me and Berg.” She gave Bo a hug. “But it’s not too late for you and Mr Two out of Ten.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
It was all well and good being in love when the person you were in love with was around. It was a different matter altogether when the object of your affection was not only not around but completely out of contact. Or, contactable only via a phone so old a dinosaur could have sent sexts from it.
