Page 8 of The Honeymoon Hack
I glanced at Will. All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and tell him this would be all right, but we’d both know it was a lie. And how would Diane take it? Would she remember who we really were, or would she wonder why Evelyn Reynolds was hugging George Reaney? All I could come up with was: “They’re the best of friends, Diane.”
“Tea?” said Will, already standing and making his way to the kitchenette.
“I just had some, thank you, dear,” said Diane.
“No, Mum, you just had water.”
Diane blinked a few times, looking at the glass next to her, as though trying to remember it. She looked at Will—really looked at him—and confusion washed across her face. “Oh, you’re right. Tea would be lovely.”
“Brie? Would you like any?” He pulled an electric kettle from under the counter and began filling it from the tap.
My throat closed up, so I shook my head. No matter how many times Will had told me about this, or how many times Diane had crashed our video calls to say hello, I hadn’t been prepared for this.
For any of it.
For watching Diane float in and out of the present moment, or for thinking about the one time I’d slept with my best friend.
Two massive shifts. Neither of them for the better.
But only one of them could be fixed by wadding it up and stuffing it into a mental locker, then throwing away the key.
Diane stood and joined Will. She patted his back and pulled a tea ball out of a drawer. “Are you and Brie staying for dinner?”
“No, Mum.” He gave her a quick peck on the top of her head. “I have to pack for that big job I was telling you about.”
“When are you leaving?”
He told her about his travel plans again. He was patient and gentle, and she gradually grew as happy as she had been when we first arrived. We stayed a while longer until Diane yawned and Will checked his watch. “We should go finish the paperwork, Mum. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She hugged him, then turned to me. Her embrace was warm, familiar. “It was lovely to see you, sweetheart. Come visit again soon.”
“I will.”
The walk through the facility was quiet. Will’s shoulders had that set that meant he was processing. I didn’t push.
Before going into the director’s office, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry. About what she said.”
“You can’t possibly be apologizing.”
He let out a quick breath, shaking his head at the floor. “Every time it happens?—”
I threw my arms around his neck. Whether it was to comfort him or to beg him to comfort me, it didn’t matter. Because he wrapped me up and held on tight. The pain in my chest loosened a little, and I sniffled, unable to stop a few tears from falling. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“Don’t do that.”
“I should have?—”
“This is all I need, Bug.” He squeezed me harder, his voice cracking. “Right here.”
Chapter 4
Will
“First date wasat the Italian place down on the Harbor.” I leaned against the wall of Evelyn’s living room, twisting the unfamiliar wedding band on my finger. My brain was not ready for any of this—for the welcome home party, the late night, or the quiz. “You ordered the gnocchi, and I had the spaghetti carbonara. We split tiramisu for dessert.”
“Correct.” Ashley took a sip of her wine. “And our honeymoon?”
“Two weeks in…” Where was it? An island somewhere. Europe. Mediterranean? We’d just reviewed it this afternoon.
