What if I Fly? by Jayne Conway Page A

Let’s grab something at the deli around the corner. My treat.”
    Will remains in the spot she left him, his eyes narrowing.
    “I’ll go,” he says. “You get some rest.”
    While Will’s out, Julia grabs a blanket, lays it across her bed and collapses with a sigh. That was a close call…way too close for comfort. And he seemed upset before he left. What is she supposed to do? They’ve only spent four hours together and she’s ready to cave. How is she going to make it through the next thirty-six hours?
    They need distraction. There’s the party tonight…and she can take him sightseeing in the city tomorrow before work. But what about the sleeping arrangements? She never thought about where Will would sleep this weekend. This is bad. She set herself up for failure.
    Julia closes her eyes, desperately trying to drown out her own thoughts, and was about to drift off to sleep when Will returns with their sandwiches.
    “Jules?” he calls out as he enters the apartment, then sits on the edge of the bed, his hand on her arm and whispers, “Are you hungry?”
    Mmm hmm,” she murmurs, her eyes closed.
    Will rifles through the kitchen cupboards in search of glasses and plates. I really should go into the kitchen and help him, he must be exhausted too. But it feels so nice to be taken care of.
    Will takes care of me.
    The thought drifts into her consciousness and wakes her from her sleepy state. He’s been taking care of her since Gram died, from the moment she ran into his arms in his parents’ driveway. Even after he moved to Washington, he's called her regularly, checking in.
    How did I not see this before now? And what does it mean? Does he think she’s fragile? That she needs looking after? Or is it because of what happened at the wedding? That’s the most likely answer. Guilt is a big theme in Will’s life. She doesn’t want him to feel like he has to ‘make things right’ with her.
     
    Will returns to the bedroom and sets their sandwiches down on the nightstand then hands her a glass of ice water and sits back on the bed while she studies him.
    “Julia, you’re doing it again,” he raises an eyebrow and takes a bite of his sandwich.
    “Will, you know you don’t owe me anything, right?”
    “Where did that come from?”
    “You’ve been so good to me…” she shrugs, “I know you feel bad about what happened at the wedding…We had a bad day. I don’t want you to do things for me out of guilt or a sense of obligation.”
    Will sets down his plate and turns toward her, sliding his fingers through hers.
    “Jules, I want to do things for you, help you if I can… because I care about you. No other reason.”
    Her lips part and her heart pounds against her ribcage. Will leans in and kisses her softly, his hands cupping her face.
    “Julia…I…”
    Her eyes open wide. She knows what he’s going to say and she’s not ready for this. She covers his mouth, interrupting him.
    “No… don’t say it.”
    Will removes her hand, his forehead resting against hers.
    “Why?” he asks, his eyes sad and hurt.
    “Because it’s a four-letter word. Because once you say it you can’t take it back.”
    She closes her eyes and he squeezes her hand.
    “Julia, I won’t ever hurt you again.”
    “Will…” she pauses, “No one can make that promise.”
     
    The party is in full gear by the time they make their arrival. Earlier this afternoon, after the big talk, they took showers and napped for a few hours, then got a bite to eat before the party. They didn’t discuss the four-letter word again.
    Will drove them over the Brooklyn Bridge and followed her directions to her friend Anna’s brownstone in Greenwich Village. The place is packed, people are sitting on the front steps and dozens more are crammed into the first floor of the building. Julia greets several friends as they make their way to the overcrowded backyard.
    The yard is small, more like a patch of grass with brick walls enclosing the space,