CH. 31

"Willa, can you get that?" Nate called out, poking his head out of his bedroom door. The rest of him wasn't visible, shielded by the wall. "I'm kinda naked here," he added, sheepish.

"Sure," Willa replied, getting up from his kitchen table. She had been attempting to write, but the doorbell had distracted her. Unsure of whether or not she should answer someone else's door, she was saved the indecision by Nate's timely appearance.

She looked through the peephole. A girl with straight blonde hair stood there, a purse suspended from the crook of her elbow and a slim-fit pantsuit clinging to her skinny, size-two body. "Can I help you?" Willa asked politely after she swung the door open.

The girl stared at her, taken aback. "Who are you?" Her forehead scrunched and her eyebrows came together in a frown.

"Oh," Willa said, feeling a little flummoxed. "I'm a friend of Nate's."

"I see." The girl continued standing there, her lipsticked lips pursed. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Who are you?" Willa returned, folding her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling underdressed.

"I'm Bridget." The blonde ducked her head around Willa to peer into the apartment. "Look, is Nathan here? I have a lot to do today and I don't have a lot of time to waste." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze seemed to accuse Willa for lounging around at home instead of doing something productive.

"Yeah," Willa said slowly. Based on the girl's professional attire, Willa figured she was someone here to talk book business with Nate. She took a step back, letting Bridget enter. "Nate!" she called out. "You have a visitor."

The girl entered like she'd been there a hundred times before, walking to the living room with brisk steps and putting her purse down on the cat's upturned sofa cushion like a throne. Bridget cast a dispassionate eye over the apartment, finally coming to rest on Willa's computer, still open to the Word Document she'd been working on.

In a self-conscious movement, Willa moved to her Macbook Pro, blocking it from Bridget's view. After she'd showered and had breakfast with Nate, she had returned to her apartment just long enough to change her clothes and pick up her laptop. Nate had asked her to spend the day with him, and there was still so much Willa wanted to work on regarding her book, so she hadn't been able to resist lugging it along with her. Who said you couldn't mix business with pleasure, right?

The name Hermès gleamed at Willa from the metallic stamp on the front of Bridget's purse, the words embossed in deep ridges and grooves into the metal. Noticing Willa's stare, Bridget smiled, somehow managing to reveal every single one of her teeth at once. "Yeah, it's a real Birkin bag," she said, primly sitting down next to her purse. "I wouldn't be caught dead in anything fake, would you?" She stroked the textured brown leather. "It's alligator skin," Bridget said, pride evident. "You can't even buy these anymore. Ethical reasons." She shrugged elegantly, like the idea that someone might find it abhorrent to slaughter innocent animals for fashion was inconceivable.

Willa fought to hide her grin. Bridget reminded her of Cyn, both so eager to impress. "Cool," she said, humoring the girl. Turning to face the bedroom door she called out again, "Nate!"

"Who is it?" he shouted back, emerging from the bedroom with a white tee shirt covering his face. His slim, tapered waist was exposed, a narrow trail of brown fuzz reaching towards his belly button. Joe Boxer was written on the waistband of his underwear, only the top of the words visible, the rest covered by his jeans. With a clumsy gesture, he yanked the shirt the rest of the way over his head and tugged the bottom of the shirt so it covered his abdomen.

Bridget's eyes were roving his body freely. Willa sent the girl a dirty look, not that she noticed, she was so engrossed in drinking in the sight of Nate.

"Bee?" Nate froze, his hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt. "What are you,"—he frowned, gaze darting between the two girls—"doing here?"

"I came to see you." Bridget stood up, sending an uncertain look at Willa. Then, deliberately, she added, "My boyfriend."

Willa's mind went foggy, like it was clouded with cotton balls. She had just assumed that Nate was single. He'd never indicated otherwise and his apartment, though tastefully decorated, lacked a girlfriend's touch. There were no couple photos, no feminine pillows or scented candles, no female products in the bathroom. Nothing to suggest he wasn't single as a Pringle.

"No," Nate said forcefully, scowling. The movement tugged his lips downward and his hands bunched his tee shirt into a fist. "We broke up."

Willa sent him a sharp glance and he reassured her with a comforting smile, his face relaxing from its previous expression.

"I'd like us to reevaluate that decision," Bridget said, shooting another glance at Willa. "You can probably go, um, whatever your name was."

Willa bristled, but she had no intention of sticking around and watching them get back together. Maybe she should leave.

"You don't have to go anywhere," Nate insisted, holding out a hand to stop her from leaving the room. "Willa, stay."

"Nate," Bridget implored, lower lip jutting out in a plaintive pout.

"No." Nate shook his head. "You broke up with me, remember?" He moved to stand next to Willa, their shoulders touching. His hand slinked down her wrist to lace his fingers through hers, and after only the briefest of hesitations, Willa let him. "We're not together anymore, Bridget."

Willa felt beyond awkward as she watched the interplay of emotions on Bridget's face; anger, sadness, then finally, desperation.

"Nate, please," Bridget whispered. "I don't mind if you"—she gestured to Willa—"had a fling."

Nate's jaw twitched as he tightened his facial muscles into a stony look of composure. "Please leave."

Bridget's knuckles had gone white around the handle of her bag. Tears didn't fall, but her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. "Congratulations on the book," she said, her voice so quiet that Willa almost didn't catch the words. "Bye, Nate." After a pause, she said, "Bye, Willa."

Nate didn't move to open the door, so after one final pause, Bridget slowly began the walk to the door, her hand holding her purse stiffly at her side. Willa watched her go, feeling the ridiculous urge to go after her and offer her a hug or at least, let the girl use her shoulder to cry on.

The door swung shut behind her, and just like that, Bridget was gone. Nate exhaled noisily. His hand was still gripping Willa's.

"Girlfriend?" Willa turned to look at him.

"Ex," he corrected. "She broke up with me when I didn't get a 'real job' after college." He released Willa's hand and used his newly-free hand to comb through his damp hair. "She didn't believe me. About Paige. About Simeon. About any of it."

"But she's back now."

"She works for Paige's publishing company. She probably read my name on a memo and decided to come back." Nate seemed to notice her laptop there for the first time. "What are you working on?"

"Just stuff." Willa shuffled her feet. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Just, I know we haven't really talked about things." Willa gestured to the space between her and Nate. "Us."

"It didn't matter," Nate said matter-of-factly. "Even if I'm not with you, that doesn't mean that I have to go back to her by default."

That was part of what she liked about Nate, Willa realized. He knew who he was and he knew who everyone else was. He was confident in himself, with the kind of self-assurance she hadn't realized someone her age could have.

"But," he added, "for the record? I want to be with you."

"No wonder you're a writer," Willa said, cracking a smile. "You always know the right thing to say."

Nate threw his head back and laughed. "Except in real life I can't hit delete and edit the dialogue."

"No," Willa agreed, still smiling. "But I wouldn't want you to delete that dialogue, anyway." She took a step closer to him and looped her arms around his neck.

"Yeah?" Nate returned her smile with an easy grin of his own. "Well"—he dipped his neck to press his lips against hers softly—"if you're sure."

Author's Note: Is all sunshine and rainbows in Willa's future? Is Nate wriggling his way into your hearts? Any theories on what will happen next?

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