I don’t think anything could wake Will up right now.
So I strum and sing, playing the song over and over, tweaking the arrangement here and there to fit my voice. It’s a beautiful song. I wonder how it came to be Jules and Nate’s special song?
And it occurs to me, that Will and I don’t have a special song yet. Well, there was the song that the kid played on the sax while we danced in New Orleans, when Will first told me he loves me, but I don’t know what the song was.
I smile and start playing a song I learned recently that I just can’t ever get out of my head. It’s by Christina Perri, called A Thousand Years, and it fits my voice perfectly.
The intro is supposed to be on the piano, but I’ve changed it for my guitar, and start to sing about a love that I’ve waited for for a thousand years, about being brave to love. The lyrics are sweet, and the song itself is soft and romantic.
I have died everyday
Waiting for you
Darlin' don't be afraid,
I have loved you for a
Thousand years
I'll love you for a
Thousand more
When I finish, I set my guitar aside, finally sleepy and stand to go upstairs, but when I turn around, Will is sitting on the couch and startles me.
“Holy crap!”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you. That was beautiful.”
“Thank you. How long have you been down here?”
“Just a little while. I woke up and you weren’t there, so I drank some water and took something and sat down to listen. I hope that’s okay.”
He looks unsure of himself, and I hate that.
“Of course it’s okay.” I cross to him and climb in his lap. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Yeah, it was fun. Lost some money, razzed the guys.” He shrugs and I smile against his chest.
“Let’s go up to bed.” I climb off him and hold a hand out, helping him to his feet. “How do you feel?”
“Still a little drunk,” he answers with a half-smile.
*
A hung-over Will is not a fun Will. He’s been surly and grouchy all day, so I left him when he finally lay down to take a nap and decided to return Jules’ dress to her.
I hate to give it back. It’s so damn pretty.
I walk into Jules and Nate’s downtown office and whistle softly. Wow. Nice digs. Very high class.
There’s a kind-looking older woman manning the reception desk. Her name plaque reads Jenny Glover.
“Hi, I’m Meg. I’d like to see Jules if she’s free.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks.
“Uh, no. I’m sorry, I’m a friend. I didn’t realize I should make an appointment.”
“Please have a seat and I’ll see if she’s free.”
Jenny calls Jules’ office, and less than fifteen seconds later, Jules opens her office door with a wide smile on her pretty face.
“Hi! Come in.”
I follow her into her office and am stunned by the view of the Space Needle and the Sound.
“Wow, that’s some view.”
“I know. We lucked out on this space.” She grins and leads me to a couch. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to return your dress, and honestly get the hell out of Will’s house for a while. That man is grumpy as hell when he’s hung over.”
Jules laughs and nods. “Yeah, he’s not a good patient. If he’s ever sick, just steer clear.”
“I could have used that warning yesterday.” I try to hand Jules her freshly dry-cleaned dress, but she frowns at me.
“Why are you returning the dress?”
“Because it’s yours.” What the hell?
“No, it’s not.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jules sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Will didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Meg, Will bought the dress for you. He just had Natalie and I call the designer and make the arrangements. This was never my dress.” She smiles softly.
I’m stunned. My mouth drops, and I look at the beautiful dress in my hands.
“How much was this dress?” I ask her.
“It doesn’t matter; it was a gift, Meg.”
God, she sounds just like her brother.
“What about the spa? The shoes? The underwear?”
“Those were all Nat and me. Will just bought you the dress.”
“And the diamond earrings,” I murmur.
“He got you diamond earrings?” she asks with a wide smile.
“Yeah, they’re gorgeous.” I sigh happily. “I should be mad, but honestly, I love this fucking dress. I want to wear it every day.”
Jules laughs. “It’s so perfect for you. Will picked it out himself, you know.”
“He did?”
“He did,” she confirms. “I heard about what he did last night when you guys were leaving. Wanna talk about it?”
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. “I’m not mad about it.”
“But you’re not happy.”
I shrug. “He was drunk.”
“Spill it, McBride.” Her voice is firm, and I know I’m not leaving here without talking to her, and frankly, I need to talk to her.
I need to talk to someone.