Page 53 of Reply All
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
“And as for Molly?”
I take a shuddering breath, because my fight with her hurt me in a different, more vicious way. “I think Molly and I need to take a friend break,” I whisper, the words killing me. “She just…” I shake my head, keeping my eyes on him.
“She’s not a good friend.” His voice is deep, with a little anger to it. Protective, and I love him even more for it.
“She’s not acting like a good friendnow. But she is. Usually. Or has been.”
“You deserve better, Bridge. You deserve so much more. In every regard.”
My stomach swoops and my lungs seize, his words the balm I sometimes don’t even know I need.
I love you, I want to tell him.And I feel like I’m dying from it.
Will opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a slew of incessant vibrations coming from his pocket. He drops his head between his shoulders and sighs heavily, exasperated.
“Excuse me,” he practically grunts, pulling his phone out. “My boss is always riding my ass. Today he—” But he stops short when he checks the name of the person on the screen. Instantly, his face softens. “Shit, it’s my mom. I have to answer this, actually.”
“Sure, no problem.”
With an apologetic smile, he gets to his feet and steps out of the wine bar to take the call, leaving his coat behind. The waitress stops by to ask whether we’d like another bottle, but I pass. It’s only a Monday and, while I’m angry at work now, I don’tactuallywant to lose my job by showing up hungover. I do love it, after all. We’re just going through a rough patch. Building some character.
When Will comes back, his brow is furrowed in concern. “Sorry about that,” he says as he retakes his seat. “Just reminding me I have to go up to Connecticut this weekend for my mom’s birthday.”
“Your mom’s birthday is this weekend?” This makes me sit up in my seat, eager. “Ilovebirthdays.”
He smiles, finally. “Of course you do.”
“When is it?”
“This Friday.”
I gasp, thrilled. “Valentine’s Day!”
He shakes his head with a grin on his face. “Yeah, Valentine’s day.”
“That’s so cool!”
“If you say so.”
“Oh my god, does she do a Valentine’s Day themed birthday party every year? I know I totally would.” My mind races with an explosion of pink and red birthday party decorations, glitter everywhere, hearts on every single flat surface, streamers hanging from any and every corner of the rooms.
Will sputters a laugh. “No, actually. This is the first time she’s felt like celebrating in several years. Her friends are throwing her a party on Saturday and she was just making sure I knew when it was.”
“Cool!”
“Is it?” He winces. “It’s going to be all women—my mom’s friends—and their kids, who are all younger than me by at least ten years. I mean, I’m really excited Mom is finally feeling up to it and all, but I’m not looking forward to the girliest birthday party in the world where I’m bound to spend the entire afternoon surrounded by people asking me the same inane questions over and over again. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ ‘When are you getting married?’ ‘How’s work?’ ‘What have you been up to?’” I cackle at the nasally, high pitch he switches his voice to. “Nuh-uh. No, thank you. It’s going to be a nightmare,” he says, his voice returning to normal.
“But cake!” I yelp, one of the nearby tables turning to shoot me judgmental looks.
“No amount of birthday cake can make up for a night of that kind of harassment,” he says, grinning.
“That’s not possible. Even bad birthday cake is better than no birthday cake. But if it’s such a pain, take a date or something. As a buffer,” I say, before I’m able to stop myself.
A date, Bridget? We do not want him going on a date with anyone! Sure, we want him to be happy. But can we at least wait until we’re over him?
“You’ll go with me?”
