sort of war crime.
“Now, now, children,” Grandma interjected. “Dinner’s ready. So make yourselves useful and lay the table, lazybones.”
“She’s talking to you,” Abbie murmured as she and Will approached the cabinet.
“She’s talking to you,” he shot back, cradling the kitten in one hand and grabbing a stack of plates in the other. For a moment, it was almost like old times. Before things had gotten … complicated.
Then he leaned in close, so close his face must’ve brushed the dense halo of her hair, and added, “Your grandma was right, you know. I was excited to see you, Abbie. Always am.”
She almost dropped the silverware.
Three
@DoURe1dMe: Hey. I can see you, you know.
@AbbieGrl: ???
@DoURe1dMe: Arguing in the comments of that gossip account
@AbbieGrl: -typing-
@AbbieGrl: -typing-
@DoURe1dMe: You can’t defend me from every bullshit rumour.
@AbbieGrl: Factual inaccuracies grate at my soul and there’s nothing interesting on TV.
Will woke up the next morning to cool, white sunlight spilling through the cracks in his curtains—or rather, the curtains in one of Ms Tricia’s spare bedrooms. This Christmas, he, his mother, Abbie’s mother, the twins, and the two older Farrell brothers would all be crammed into this five-bedroom house, which meant he’d be sharing his bed pretty soon. But until then…
Until then, it was he and Abbie alone on this floor, their rooms opposite each other’s. If he hadn’t been so bone-tired last night, he would’ve done something about that. He remembered from their teenage years at impromptu house parties down the street and piss-ups at the park that Abbie had always been more open in the dark. But Will was still pretty jetlagged, so he couldn’t speak to Midnight Abbie just yet.
Soon.
That decided, he sat up, stretched, and grabbed his phone. 10:01 a.m., which meant Abbie had been awake for hours and Ms Tricia was still semi-unconscious. Perfect circumstances for a bit of light wooing. (Will was an expert in the theory of wooing, having attended the premieres of many period dramas.) He read his news alerts, which always depressed him horribly, but seemed like the right thing to do. Next, he opened his top-secret Instagram and tried not to feel disappointed at the lack of messages from Abbie. It was probably weird that they’d DM’d each other last night from across the family room. He shouldn’t expect her to crave his conversation the way he did hers. So Will shook off his frown and checked his texts.
Kara: You’re killing me here, kid. Call me back.
He deleted that one.
Jason: You know, when you ring someone four times in the dead of night without sending a text to explain why, they might wake up the next morning and see the missed calls and think you were having a cat-induced asthma attack and they slept through it and left you to die in the wilds of Scotland. And then they might call their annoying sister to check on your welfare and be ruthlessly mocked. Learn to text, you fucking donkey dick.
Will laughed out loud at that one and hit Call.
Jase answered on the sixth ring, probably because he was busy pleating a bolt of silk or something fancy like that. “Yeah?” he barked. His usual greeting, so Will didn’t take it personally.
“You know I hate texting. Sorry.” Writing stuff down took so long, and anyway, Will was bad at waiting for answers. If he didn’t get a reply within three minutes, he’d wander away from his phone and forget the entire conversation.
“Yes, fine, you’re forgiven.” Jase sighed. “What’s up, anyway? Cats getting to you? Grandma getting to you? Abbie getting to you?”
“Abbie,” Will agreed.
“Oh. Really? Is she making fun of your teeth again? Because they’re honestly not that white.”
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Actually, it’s—well, I had decided, since it’s been a couple of years since the divorce and she seems happy now, and since I’m done with Captain X, and whatnot, which is kind of like fate, timing-wise…” Will realised he was rambling. He tended to do that when nervous. The media training hadn’t helped, but luckily, the press had found him charming.
Jase had never found him charming, though, so Will decided to cut to the chase.
“I’ve decided it’s time to find out if I have a shot with Abbie. So I’ve got a plan. I’m going to spend a year making her fall in love with me. Or trying to, anyway. That’s enough time, right? And I’m thinking of this Christmas as a kind of pre-season. A warm-up. I’m trying to, you know, flirt with her.