Page 58 of Reply All
I pull myself together and glare at his smirk, but I love our flirting. “Either way, the cookies are gorgeous, and I thought they’d be perfect for today. So hush.” I stick out my tongue, and he laughs.
Without taking his eyes off me, his smile full and gorgeous and heart melting, he knocks on the front door.
While we wait, he whispers, “She’s going to love you, Bridge. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone helping it.”
If you believe that to be so true, then why don’t you love me, too?
WILL
Will knew that taking Bridget to meet his mother, to his childhood home, was a risk. He was aware that, in doing so, he would be teetering a dangerous line. But letting her get to know this extra piece of him, to show her another part of who he was, was way too tempting.
In preparation for today, when Will had called his mother to let him know he was bringing a guest, he requested the topic of work and careers be taken out of the approved list of conversational topics. In fact, it was his condition for attending the party (not that there was any way he was going to miss it, anyway). He wanted Bridget to know the good parts of him. He wanted her to see that he was not a bad man despite having done many bad things. To her. To his mother. To lots of people.
He wanted her to fall in love with the good sides of him before she realized just how terrible he has been.
20
SOMETHING LIKE IT
Will’s mother looks nothing like her son. Or rather, Will looks nothing like his mother.
Sandra Jacobs is platinum blonde and blue-eyed, with pale skin and delicate, soft, round features. And even from her wheelchair, you can tell she has a petite frame. She is shockingly the complete opposite to her son. Will is all angular lines, hard muscle, and Mediterranean skin. His dark eyes are wide, intense, and set below thick brows making it very clear that he takes after his late father. And if that weren’t enough, his over six feet two height sure should settle that theory. If it weren’t for the same infinitely long and full lashes and the deep laughter that stems from their belly, I would never have assumed they were related—at least by blood. But once Sandra takes one look at her son, it’s pure adoration and devotion you can see in her eyes. The kind you only see in mothers’ eyes—or so I’ve been told, sincemymom was about as maternal as the bow clip currently keeping my hair out of my face.
Due to his height and her wheelchair, Will has to squat to hug his mother hello. She reaches her arms up and wraps them lovingly around her son, closing her eyes like her entire day has been made.
“You’re here!” she exclaims, pulling back to look him in the eye.
“Mom. I told you I was coming,” he says before kissing her once on the cheek and gently pulling away.
“Yes, but still! I’m excited! My first birthday party in a while and you’re here and all my friends are here.”
Will smiles down at his mom. “I know, Mom. I’m happy you’re finally letting someone celebrate you.”
Sandra grins up at her son a final time before her eyes land on mine, bright and mischievous. They sayAha! Gotcha!
“And she’s here, too.” She smiles at me before she glances at Will and back. “You must be Bridget. Will has told me so much about you, I keep asking whether you guys are together or not.”
“Whoa, Mom! What the actual fuck? We’ve talked about this. I said no.” Will’s face flushes almost as red as mine does.
I sputter a laugh, almost gasping for air. Did she seriously just ask that?
“Oh.” It’s all I can manage at the moment, and honestly, I should receive an award for being able to say as much.
“C’mon, Will. You talk about her all the time. You spend most of your free time with her. And maybe I believed you the eight times you told me she was just a friend. But now that I’ve seen the way she looks?” Sandra shakes her head, laughing. “No way you guys aren’t together.”
“Okay, you need to stop this before it even starts or this will be the last birthday party of yours I come to.” He’s half-joking, half-mortified, and it’s so adorable I want to melt. “I do not talk about Bridget all the time.” He stops and looks at me. “I do not talk about you all the time.”
The only reason I believe him—besides just the idea of having him be as obsessed with me as I am with him is completely ridiculous—is because it feels like we spend any free time wedohave talking toeach other. When would he even have the chance to talk to his mother often enough for her to say he talks about me all the time?
Sandra throws her head back in laughter at our expressions and backs into the house, letting us in.
“Are those for me?” She nods towards the gifts in my hand.
“Yes! Sorry, yes. I got distracted from the whole…” I wave my free hand vaguely in the air.
Will sighs and rubs his eyes as he shakes his head in frustration while Sandra looks like she’s having the time of her life.
“Thanks so much for letting me crash your birthday.” When I hand her the three things, her eyes go wide.
