Part 25 (1/2)
”Get the f.u.c.k out!” Will yells, cutting her off. She jumps in her car and speeds away.
I can't move. I just stand here, in the rain, hugging myself and watch her car disappear down the street.
”Look at me.”
I'm too ashamed. Jesus, what must he think of me now? I bury my face in my hands and will the tears back.
Crying won't solve anything.
”Just go, Will.”
”Look at me,” he repeats, his hands on my shoulders now. ”Megan, stop. Look at me.”
I look up into his eyes, still so embarra.s.sed.
”I'm so sorry...”
”Shh.” He shakes his head and hugs me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pinning my arms against his chest, and I've never felt so safe. ”I'm sorry she's so horrible.”
”I meant it,” I mumble against him. ”I'm not sending her any more money.”
”No, you're not.”
”You're not either. She will ask you.”
”Hmm,” he murmurs, non-committally.
”I mean it.”
”Okay. Let's go inside.” He picks up our bags and leads me in the house, disarming the alarm.
”I'm surprised she didn't try to break in and wait for me in the house,” I comment. That's her usual M.O.
”She must have seen the alarm. See? I told you you needed an alarm.” He offers me a smug smile and my chest loosens. I don't want to think about Sylvia anymore. She can't hurt me.
I snicker as he turns his back to me to pick our bags up and take them upstairs. ”Yes, you were right.”
”What did you say?” he asks sarcastically.
”You're handsome,” I reply with a grin.
”No, that's not what you said,”
”I like your s.h.i.+rt?”
”Nope.” He sets the bags down and slowly saunters to me, his eyes narrowed and a smile tickling his lips. ”Tell me.”
”Um... I think we should order dinner in?”
He laughs now, full-out, and the knot in my stomach from seeing Sylvia on my doorstep is gone.
”I think you said something about me being right.”
”Did not,” I scoff.
”Did too.”
”I wouldn't do that,” I reply and shake my head. ”You must be thinking of someone else.”
”No, you're the only beautiful, smart-mouthed woman on my mind these days.”
”Gee, that's so good to hear,” I reply sarcastically and he sweeps in and throws me over his shoulder, heading for the stairs.
”Hey! Our luggage!”
”We'll get it later. I think I need to teach you a lesson.”
”What kind of lesson?” I look down at his firm, tight a.s.s and give it a little smack, just because I can.
He smacks mine back, making me yelp.
”The fun kind.”
I smile and brace myself on his lean hips as he easily climbs the stairs.
G.o.d, I love him.
”So, you're playing Arizona next Sunday?” I ask from my spot on the couch. Will taught me my lesson. I think I may need more lessons like that in the future. I'm a slow learner. Then we ordered in dinner, and now we're on the couch, watching football.
Well, Will is watching football. I'm about to paint my toenails.
”Yes.”
”At home?” I ask casually.
”Yes,” he smiles at me. ”And after the game, the whole family is going to my mom and dad's for dinner. It'll probably be the last weekend this year that we can still enjoy their backyard.”
”Okay.”
”I want you there.”
It isn't a request, and makes me smile. I want to be there.
”Okay,” I say again. Will nods and goes back to watching his game, that being settled.
I shake my red nail polish and pull my right foot up onto the couch, my heel tucked against my a.s.s, and buff my toenails, then open the polish. Before I can swipe the brush down my toenail, Will interrupts me.
”Can I do that?”