He couldn’t be. Because that would suggest he was serious, and Will was never serious, and he certainly, after all these years, couldn’t suddenly be serious about her. The very idea had the power to upend everything she’d ever told herself, every protective barrier she’d ever built between them.

Yet the hurt on his face, the deep furrow between his brows, and the way he rolled his lips inward suggested he really fucking was.

“Will,” she choked out, her stomach dropping like lead. “Will … you … you really don’t care this much.”

He looked up at her, incredulous. “And you really believe that, don’t you?”

Shit.

Okay. Okay. Some sort of monumental fuck-up had just occurred, because she could practically see him papering over his sadness. Her body began to hum with anxiety, like an electric generator kicking in.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, only realising how true that was once the words hovered between them. “Sorry. That was … rude.” Understatement. Had she really just explained away his feelings to him like he was five?

More shocking: did he really have feelings to explain away? Because that … did not compute. Not after all this time. Years and years ago, she might’ve allowed herself to tentatively hope for it—but then she’d grown up enough to figure out that best friends didn’t seamlessly become lovers, much like dead dogs didn’t come back to life and fairies didn’t exist. So she’d left. She’d fallen for someone else, she’d gotten married, she’d gotten divorced. She was an adult, but she was also vibrating with uncertainty and confusion and—and—

Things with Will weren’t supposed to be complicated. That was a truth she’d trusted in her entire life, a truth she’d worked hard to uphold, and now it was shifting beneath her feet.

But here was another truth: he didn’t hurt her, and she sure as shit tried not to hurt him. She didn’t always succeed, since she was practically made of spikes, but she tried.

“I really am sorry,” she repeated, her tongue like lead and her words inadequate as ever. She wished she was better at saying sweet things. If this were the other way around, Will would give her the best apology of all time. “That was—a dick move. You caught me by surprise, and I overreacted. Shouldn’t have done it. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Something in his expression shifted, his gaze sparking, his lips parting. “Is that right?”

Abbie suddenly felt very hot and very closely observed. “Um.”