She dashed over to the table, snagged her phone, and slipped it into her pocket.
“Have you considered what might happen if you go to the library alone?” he asked. “What if you get surrounded by single guys?”
“In the library?” she asked incredulously.
“Given your previous experiences, I would say that there’s no logic behind this particular phenomenon.”
“Fair point. I’ll just be incredibly rude.” She wrinkled her nose. “Some would say I’m a natural at it.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” He couldn’t keep the anxious edge out of his voice.
Her expression softened. “I’ll be okay. I promise. But if anything starts to feel off, I’ll call you, okay?”
“If you’re sure.”
“Totally. I’ve been working on my fuck off signals. I practiced them in the mirror this morning.”
Will laughed and shook his head. “Okay. I’m convinced. Let’s go.”
They drove to the library, arguing the whole time about which radio station to listen to. Will’s car was old, practically a relic. He didn’t have the luxury of hooking up his phone and shuffling his music library. He pulled into the parking lot as he told her this, effectively ending the heated discussion. Will didn’t bother parking. He stopped at the curb, looked up at the brightly lit brick building. He didn’t understand what she thought she was going to accomplish there, but appreciated her need to dosomething.
“Keep me posted,” he told her before she got out of the car. “I’ll be a couple minutes away whenever you’re done for the night.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Will.” She paused with one leg out of the car, smiled sadly at him. “I appreciate you indulging me. It’s probably futile to look for answers here, but I have to start somewhere.”
Since he’d just thought essentially the same thing, he smiled back. “You never know. See you later, Sherlock.”
“Bye, Nurse Watson.”
Eleven
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
Will looked up from his drink as Jared slid onto the barstool next to him. They had often met for drinks at The Bell & Whistle, a local gastropub run by a wise-cracking, easygoing middle-aged couple from Ireland. This could be any normal evening for him, except this time Will was wondering if Ireland even existed in his world. If he bought a plane ticket and flew there, would the landscape around him turn into a 404 Error? Something to ponder later. Emmy would laugh if he asked her. He liked hearing her laugh.
“Earth to Will.”
“Nothing’s up,” Will said quickly. He signaled for Callie, the sweet, young bartender with mile-long legs and strawberry blonde hair, to get his friend a drink. “I got the first round.”
“Appreciate it. You sure you’re okay? Nassir said you quit.”
“I did.” He studied Callie. Wondered if she was written to be gorgeous for some plot-related purpose or just because it was expected of a bartender in a romance novel.
“Fuck me. Really? I thought he was full of shit. What happened?”
Jared was an anesthesiologist. They had started around the same time, clicked over bad break-room coffee when they discovered a mutual love ofFinal Fantasyand bad medical dramas from the ’80s and ’90s.
Before he responded, Will made sure to check for a script in his head. If this scene with Jared turned into some kind of surreal book experience, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Thankfully, the only words that came to mind were ones he wanted to say. He still felt a deep stab of pain over the distance he now felt between himself and his best friend. Jared was looking at him with earnest interest, one hand wrapped around his beer. His ring finger was conspicuously bare. Will had been his best man four years ago. Six months ago, Jared and Macey had divorced. It had been amicable enough, and there were no children, but Jared had needed a friend to lean on. Will had been there for that, too.
And maybe none of it had happened. Maybe none of it mattered.
“I don’t know where to start. I just… woke up one morning questioning everything about my life.”
“Little young for a midlife crisis, buddy.”
“Yet here we are.”
“So you quit your job. Did you at least buy a Ducati while you were at it?”
