needed to know,” Rock grumbles, cutting into his pancakes.
“Didn’t she marry some douche producer guy and move to L.A.?” Axel asks.
“Something like that,” Rock mutters before turning his attention back on Web and me. “So, you guys are screwing? How’s that going?”
22
Jesse
* * *
When Web and I arrive in New York that evening, we head straight to Lily’s. I probably should have been a bit more proactive about finding somewhere to stay upon my return to the city—a hotel, or an Air B’n’B at the very least—but I’ve been a little distracted this past week and it kind of slipped my mind.
It won’t be for long, though. Web will be returning to Finchley tomorrow night, and I plan to follow not long after. Of course, I haven’t actually talked that part over with him just yet. I want to make sure I can square everything away with work first.
“Webster Goode.” Lily’s eyes glitter mischievously, and there’s a definite curve to her lips as she rakes her eyes up and down Web for a solid twenty-seconds after opening her apartment door to find us outside. Turning her gaze to me, she says, “I don’t know what you were talking about. He’s not covered in hideous boils.”
I roll my eyes and move to push past her into the apartment. “Ignore her.”
Lily waves a hand in welcome and puts on a dramatic air. “Yes, please, come stay in my apartment with your sham husband. It’s not like I have an impressionable child or anything.”
Shaking my head in exasperation, I grab Web’s hand and pull him inside after me.
Quirking an eyebrow at our joined hands, Lily says, “Okay, maybe not so sham…”
“Please, like you didn’t already guess,” I say wryly.
It’s already close to nine, and being a Sunday, it’s a school night for Joel, so we only say a quick hello and I briefly introduce him to Web before Lily ushers him back to bed and Web and I take the opportunity to get changed and make up a bed in the living room.
“Are those the divorce papers?” Web asks curiously as I’m laying out blankets and pillows on the floor.
I glance up to see him eyeing my open suitcase—or, more specifically, the yellow envelope perched on top of all my other shit—with an expression of utter confusion. He reaches down to retrieve the envelope, examining it warily, like it’s a bomb that could explode any second. “Why are they here?”
Okay, that’s kind of a long story…
Letting out a reluctant sigh, I get to my feet and approach Web. “Well, Chance gave them to me this afternoon and...” I shrug. “I couldn’t sign.”
Web looks at me for a long moment, clearly trying to comprehend my words. Finally, his expression clears. “Okay, well…you can just sign now if you want, and I can take the papers back to Chance when I go home tomorrow.”
My heart stutters and for a moment I consider just agreeing to this, but then I remind myself of all the time we’ve lost thanks to one stupid miscommunication. I’m not about to let that happen again just because I’m scared. “No, Webster…it’s not that I didn’t have time to sign. It’s that I didn’t want to.”
“You—you don’t want to sign?” he asks, eyes wide with what I’m pretty sure is hope.
I shake my head. “Nope. In fact…” I grab the document back from him and tear it in half. Of course, it’s not until after I’ve ripped up the papers and catch sight of Web’s dumbstruck expression that I realize I may have just made a massive miscalculation. Maybe that wasn’t hope in his eyes? Maybe I just imagined it? “Unless…I mean, I can get Chance to draw up new ones if you still want to go through with the divorce?”
Web snaps his gaze to mine. “What? I don’t want a divorce!”
“You don’t?”
“Jesse, I’ve been in love with you for twenty years. Why the fuck would I want to divorce you?”
“Well, then why did you have Chance draw up the papers?”
He throws up his hands in frustration. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.”
And my heart just about explodes with love for him. I can’t believe it…all these years…one stupid misunderstanding and I’ve missed out on having the sweetest guy in the world in my life for the better part of two decades.
Stepping toward him, I throw my arms around him, resting my forehead against his neck and drawing in a deep breath, savoring his fresh, earthy scent. “I love you.