My whole body hums. Will leans closer, nearly tipping into me. But he doesn’t make a move to kiss me. Instead, he swallows thickly and closes his eyes, gathering himself. I stare at his eyelashes, at the scrunch of his nose, the wet on his lips.
He pushes off the brick wall and steps away.
It’s not relief I feel—even though it should be. Relief is theonlything Ishouldbe feeling. I want him and he wants me, but at least this time both of us had the wherewithal to see past the alcohol thinning our blood and make the smarter choice.
Don’t give in to it.
We resist the urge ten years too late.
Still, part of me thrills I can make him come this close to an impulsive decision.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Will says, voice weak. There’s a conflict in his eyes.
“Want to what?” I ask innocently.
He shakes his head at me, huffing out a laugh. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Right. Nothing. Because I couldn’t possibly be a good person if I never learned from my past mistakes,” I say.
His eyebrows launch upward. “That so?”
“And you couldn’t possibly be a good brother if you willingly engaged with a person your sister excommunicated without talking to her about it first.”
He stares. “Who says I never talked to her about it first?”
My head tilts. He’s got me there. “You spoke to Zoe about me?”
Will doesn’t answer and takes another step back. “Good night, Josie.”
“Wait.”
“Not now.” He nods toward the club door. “Your best friend needs you.”
He’s right. I’ve lapsed in my maid of honor duties for more than thirty minutes now. I head for the door, but I toss one last look at Will over my shoulder.
“I meant to say thank you,” I call out. “That’s the whole reason I came over to Valhalla. So I could thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stands there, his smile small but starbright, and waits for me to disappear.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My parents’ house is in an old part of the city where the streets have manicured medians and every mailbox is adorned with the family surname. The house I grew up in is an expansive white-brick structure, vines creeping up the outside walls near a three-door garage and trees limned with sunlight all hours of the day. When my Uber pulls into the driveway, I spot the old swing Robbie used to push me on hanging from a tree branch in the front yard.
I thank my Uber driver and send him a tip before wheeling my suitcase—full-sized, every cubic inch utilized—up the driveway to the front door.
It’s strange being here in early summer given I normally make an appearance only during holiday season. Honeysuckle on the wind, the grass plush and overgrown.
I’m just about to ring the doorbell when the navy-blue door swings open, revealing my mother. A tight bun, Dior slingback pumps, higher cheekbones than are strictly natural.
“I know, I know. The grass. But your father has been on a business trip all week, and now he’s golfing with that horrid man from the club.”
“Don’t you hire a landscaping team?” I ask. “They could probably mow as well.”
“He bought the mower, he wants to use the mower,” Mom says, rolling her eyes.
“He bought the mower twenty years ago.”
“Might you debate this withhim?” She steps two heeled feet over the threshold, pulling me against her body as the scent of the perfume she’s worn every day of my life washes over me in a cloud. “Did you go to church this morning?”
