Page 79 of Play With Me

“You need a ride home?”

“No. Thanks, though. We’re taking the late train,” I said. “Has is probably already back at the studio packing my bag.”

“Of course he is,” Will smiled. “Tell Vivian ‘Merry Christmas’ for me, yeah?”

There was something else there. I felt it hovering. The thing that wanted words. I wanted the words. But I also wanted more time.

I rested my forearms on the bar and looked at him. Really looked at him. The warmth in his eyes. His smile was crooked, like he was thinking something dirty. Irresistible.

“I’m an unbelievably patient man when I want something.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you before I left,” I said instead of going for it. He needed to spend the holiday with his family. After that, nothing would stop me from saying the thing.

His mouth twitched like he was reading my thoughts, rubbing the back of his head, a lazy grin spreading over his face. “Me too.”

Eilidh clapped her hands somewhere behind me. “Last call, you degenerates!”

The room groaned. Chairs scraped. Coats were pulled on. People shouted plans they’d abandon for bed as soon as was socially acceptable.

Will lingered while his family gathered near the door. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

“Hey,” he said, sliding it across the bar. “For the kids.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Take them ice-skating,” he said, “or buy them a hundred churros.”

I laughed and tucked it into my apron. “That’s sweet of you, Will.”

He stepped back then, the space between us opening up again. Space, but not distance this time. His mom waved. Siobhan blew me a kiss. Ciara smiled at me, and they disappeared into the crowd.

Will hesitated at the door, then turned back one last time.

“Merry Christmas, Louisa.”

“Merry Christmas, Will. See you in a few days.”

The door swung shut behind him, letting in a blast of cold before sealing it out again.

I exhaled and reached for a towel.

“Isa,” Eilidh said softly, not unkindly. “You good? Mike headed out.”

“Yeah,” I said, surprising myself with how true it felt. How solid I felt, despite the unfinished business with my favorite cookie. “I’m great.”

Vivian’s apartment always smelled like ham and bean soup, no matter the season. I suspected it was the byproduct of living in her apartment building full of blue-collar white folks, and I’d found it oddly comforting.

Has was stretched out on the floor with Vivian’s dog, half-asleep and letting himself be licked into oblivion. Wrapping paper littered the coffee table, and Vivian was in the kitchen humming to herself, already halfway into Christmas dinner even though it was barely noon.

I was perched on the arm of the couch, scrolling absently, still in pajamas that didn’t belong to me. I’d worn them out of the house already, zipped up behind my coat, when I went to get lox bagels and throw rocks at Desi’s window.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

I glanced down and saw “Best Bear” was calling.

Not a text though—FaceTime.

For a split second, my brain stalled. I stared at the screen like it might explain itself.