* * *
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.
“Jules, what the hell does he see in me?” I frown and look down at my hands. “I guess that’s what it comes down to. He can have anyone he wants.”
“Why is it so hard for you to believe that he wants you? Meg, you’re fantastic.”
“But…” I shake my head, but she interrupts me.
“No buts. Will adores you, Megan. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“He’ll get tired of me.”
“Stop it. Now you’re just being a pussy, and I don’t have time for this shit.” My eyes go wide and I raise my eyebrows.
“How do you really feel?” I ask dryly.
“Will is famous, Meg. None of us can change that, and I don’t think he wants to change that. He’s good at what he does.”
“Yes, he is,” I agree.
“There will always be groupies. He will always get recognized, especially around this town. Will’s never really cared about all that bullshit.” She shrugs. “It just goes with the job. But Meg, if every time a woman tries to get his attention it makes you start to question his feelings for you, or whether you deserve him, you will never be able to make this relationship work.”
“What are you saying?” I ask her.
“If you aren’t in it for the long haul, willing to pull your big-girl panties up and deal with the bullshit that comes along with being famous, then cut your losses now rather than later.”
I don’t have any words. I just sit and stare at her, then look over at the dress, and back to her.
“The thought of being without him kills me,” I whisper.
“Then trust him when he says he loves you. He means it. Enjoy him. Love him back.”
She looks so damn proud of herself.
And she’s right. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.
“Okay. Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulls me into a tight hug and then walks me to her door. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
* * *
Just when I walk through my front door, my phone rings. Football Star reads on the display.