Page 71 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“She’s always been the romantic, whimsical one. Her twenties were a succession of intense relationships with various Willoughby types, while I was sensible Elinor who married a sensible man and had a family and a mortgage before any of her friends. Lottie thought I had it all worked out; she’d always call me for advice. Now she’s happily married to her Colonel Brandon, killing it at work, about to have a baby—she doesn’t need me so much anymore. The whole dynamic between us has changed.” I pause, not having articulated any of this before; it surprises me tohear myself say it out loud. “Now she wants to fix me, and I’m not used to feeling needy rather than needed.”
“I’m sure she still needs you,” Will says. “Even if not in the way she used to. Maybe it’s not healthy to be stuck in roles you’ve outgrown.” He leans over to grab another log, and when he throws it on the fire it sparks and smokes. “I have the same. In a family you’re allocated a role; it’s hard to break out. I don’t think my older brothers will ever see me as a professional person, I’ll always be the kid who cried when the Rice Krispies stopped crackling in my bowl.”
“You didn’t!” I say, laughing.
“I was a sensitive child,” Will says with a lopsided smile, and my heart thrums at his ability to make fun of himself.
We talk late into the night, jumping from family, to books, to philosophy and travel. He tells me all the places he wants to visit, all the lives he plans to live abroad. I tell him about my travels before children and my bucket list of places still to see. Will is so easy to talk to when he drops the flirty, arrogant façade. It’s obvious why so many people are drawn to him. With friends and family I sometimes find myself playing a role, being the person I think they want me to be, a person they don’t need to worry about. With Will, I realize I can just be myself, I can be honest, because he doesn’t want or need me to be anything. Once or twice I catch him looking at me when I turn away, but it’s hard not to feel connected to someone when you’re lying beneath the stars sharing your life story. Only when I start to shiver do I realize the fire has burned down to glowing embers.
“We’d better go to bed,” Will says, “or put more logs on?”
“Bed, I think,” I say, standing up, feeling dizzy from all the smoke and beers. “You know, I haven’t missed my phone once this evening.”
“Nor have I. Must be the sparkling company.”
“Must be.” I pause. “Night then. See you in the morning.”
Will grins at me, and that look is back, the toying, teasing, flirty look. He raises one eyebrow. “Unless you come knocking on my cabin door. What happens in the woods stays in the woods.”
I laugh as I shake out the rug I was lying on. “See you in the morning, Havers.”
Will turns on his torch and heads off through the bracken toward his cabin, just visible through the shadowy trees. I turn back to mine, the embers and the moonlight just enough to light my way up the cabin steps. Pulling the door, I find it locked.Did I click the latch by mistake? No, I know I didn’t. Oh shit, what was the code? It was on the information pack, which is…sitting on the table inside.I tap in a few combinations—I know there was a five and a seven involved—but when I twist the handle, it won’t budge. I rack my brain trying to conjure the combination but it’s gone, and I rattle the handle in frustration. This is not good. If I can’t get into my cabin, where am I going to sleep? A churn of nausea whirls in my stomach as I realize what I’m going to have to do.
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Chapter 23
There’s a light on inWill’s cabin, which is enough to guide me. Brambles scratch at my legs as I veer off the narrow path. Taking two deep breaths, I lift my hand to the door, then knock twice, and Will—tanned, muscular, so perfectly himself—opens the door in his boxers. I immediately feel my cheeks heat.
“Well, well, this is unexpected,” he says, eyes sparkling with delight.
“I can’t get into my cabin,” I say, resting a hand on one hip. “It’s locked, and the information pack is inside. Do you remember the code?”
“You don’t remember the code?”
“No,” I say tightly. “If I remembered the code I wouldn’t have had to come knocking on your door, would I?” I pause, this situation sinking in. “Can you break the lock?”
“I’m not breaking the lock, Anna.” He pauses, turning to face me. “You’ll just have to bunk up with me.”
“I’m not bunking up with anyone,” I say, fuming now. The friendly dynamic by the fire has morphed into something else, and it feels as though he’s relishing this power shift.
“Okay then,” Will says, pulling on a sweatshirt and then turning into his cabin.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” I cry.
“I’m going to get your phone out of my lockbox so you can walk up that hill, call Verity, and ask her for the code.”
I hover while Will fetches my phone. When he returns, I look slowly back and forth between Will and the pitch-dark horizon. “I don’t want to go out there on my own. I can’t even see where the hill is, I might fall in a ditch.”
Will looks exasperated. “You’ll have to sleep in here with me then.”
“Can’t you come?” I plead.
“You want me to put my clothes back on and walk up a hill in the dark?”
“Yes. Please.”
He lets out a groan. “Fine.”
