He says it like it’s nothing, which to him it must be, even though Will just confirmed what I first suspected when he mentioned visiting only his mother: Will’s parents aren’t together anymore. My chest pinches for him and Zoe, for their whole family, and I can’t help but wonder what happened. Back then, I’d never have guessed they’d end up divorced.
My palms land on Will’s chest, unsure where else to go while more people pass behind me. “Were you planning to tell me you were next door?”
“No.” His eyes break from mine, traveling down to myPARTYshirt. “I knew you had a full itinerary.”
Something about that admission shoots affection up my spine. The notion that he was near, and I didn’t need to know because I was busy. That Will would simply take care of things for me in the background, no thanks necessary.
“Want to say hi?” Will asks.
I flinch. “To your mom?”
He nods.
“Does she hate me?”
“Viciously. I’m just offering you up as a meal for my own entertainment, to be honest.” I cast him a look. His grin settles but doesn’t drop. “No, of course she doesn’t hate you, Josie. Come on.” He turns and leads me, his hand still loose on my lower back, toward a table in a corner of the bar. Mrs. Grant and a white-haired man sit at a high-top watching the hockey game. When she spots me, her eyes brighten, and she springs up from her seat.
“Josie Davis! Ohmy!” Will’s mother wraps me up in a hug, making motherly noises in the back of her throat. “Will mentioned you were nearby. It’s so lovely to see you!”
“You, too!” I say. “You look amazing!”
It’s true. Mrs. Grant was always stunning, but now she has a glow. A professional-hockey-coach glow?
We do the usual catch-up and introductions, dancing around several elephants in the room, and then she says, “I’m so happy you’re back in Will’s and Zoe’s lives.”
I don’t correct her about Zoe. All I say is “Me, too.”
She looks back and forth between Will and me, curiosity at our situation plain as day on her face. I nip it in the bud by saying I need to get back to the bridal party.
“I’ll walk you out,” Will says.
Mrs. Grant grabs my hand, eyes warm and content. “I hope I see you again soon.”
I return her sentiment, but my chest eases with every exhale as we leave the bar. Outside, the temperature has dropped in only twenty minutes. The night feels nearly cool. Will falls into step beside me as we head toward the Andalo entrance.
“Your mother remarried,” I say.
“Yes.”
“Your mother got divorced,” I say.
He clears his throat. “Yes.”
When I look over and up, Will’s expression is relaxed, his eyes soft on mine. “It’s a long story. Longer than you have time for right now. But I’ll tell you another day if you want. TL;DR: Dad cheated, Mom left him.”
I sigh, impossibly disappointed.
Will nods and looks away. “You never think it’s going to happen toyourfamily,” he says quietly. “Secret girlfriends, double lives—that’s the kind of thing that glamorous, absent fathers in television shows would do, not salesmen from Texas. But then itdoeshappen to your family, and you learn clichés exist for a reason.”
“I’m so sorry, Will.”
“Thank you,” he says, voice gruff but kind. His mouth shapesinto a wan smile. “And I’m sorry to bring you down on a trip celebrating the start of your best friend’s marriage.”
“I’d argue we’re partway mourning the end of her singledom, but anyway.”
Will’s smile turns genuine, bolstered by an easy, knowing fondness. A dimple on his left cheek, half a dimple on his right. Suddenly there are one million questions I want to ask him. More pieces of his life I’m dying to know. Plenty about the past, but I want to know about Will’s present. Where he eats out for dinner, how often he rides his bike in the city, the order he’d rank the five boroughs in, what his apartment looks like.
I push it all down, tell myself those facts aren’t mine to know.
