Page 88 of When the Smoke Clears

“I’d love to come. What time?”

“Um . . .” She pinches the bridge of her nose. I’m sure she’s in panic mode because everyone will be upset that she invited me. Especially Will because he’s an asshole—but his dad is dying. “Seven?”

“Perfect.” I grin. “What can I bring?”

“Oh, nothing. We’ll uh—”

I flick my wrist at her. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks for the invite. See ya soon.”

Jamie is a baker. I’ve heard that Ozzy is a grill king. So I pick up pints of ice cream from Sweet Peaks, including Campfire S’mores and Griz Tracks, which I’ve heard are Lola’s favorites. Is it too cold for ice cream? I hope not.

Why am I so nervous to see Will? It’s been three months. We’ve texted. No big deal. But as I step out of my car parked along the street and adjust my black sweater over my faded jeans, my hands shake. I haven’t felt this unnerved, even speaking in front of auditoriums full of my colleagues.

“Breathe,” I whisper to myself, clenching the bag of ice cream as I make my way to the front door.

“Hey,” Jamie says while opening the door with the festive fall wreath. “Come in. Everyone is out back by the grill. There are hanging heaters, so it’s not too chilly.”

“I brought ice cream. Lola’s favorite.” I smile.

“Oh. That was nice of you, but Lola’s not here. She’s spending the night with a friend.” Jamie takes the bag from me and puts it in the freezer. “Come on.” She nods toward the deck door.

My heart might explode. William Landry is the most dangerous drug.

“Look who made it,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” everyone chimes at the same time.

“How have you been?” Maren asks, standing from a rocker to give me a hug.

I nearly cry because I just want to be one of the friends.

The chair next to her has a sweatshirt draped over the back. It’s probably Ozzy’s.

There are two outdoor love seats separated by a fire table. Will’s on one, and Jamie sits on the other, tucking her legs underneath her fuzzy gray sweater.

Do I sit next to her? Will Fitz mind? Before I can make this monumentally challenging decision, Jamie nods toward Will. “Scooch to make room for Everleigh. Surely, you two can get along for one night.” She winks at me.

Why? Were they talking about me before I arrived? Or is she silently teasing me because she knows I’m head over heels for this man?

Will moves to one side and gives me a head-to-toe inspection as I squeeze past Maren’s legs to sit next to him.

You are a doctor. A brilliant psychiatrist. Act like it!

I smile at Will. “Good to see you. I heard your sister is with your parents this weekend. Did you get to meet your new niece before you left?”

He’s just a man. I treat lots of men. My hands clench at my sides, then I move them to my lap and gently fold them, and that calms me.

Will pauses before answering, staring at my chest and then my lips. Now I hate him. (Not really, but in theory.) He can’t treat me like a nobody for three months and then look at me like we’ll end up in bed later tonight.

He wets his lips and nods. “Yeah. She’s pretty special.”

Must be nice to be special in your eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Eloise. Ellie.”

“Speaking of babies,” Maren says. “I heard you and Will knew about Jamie’s pregnancy before I did.” She narrows her eyes at Jamie.

I glance over at Will because I knew he knew.