by Susan Ward
“Sexy?” I scoff. “My hair’s a mess, thanks to earlier on the third floor. My clothes are dirty, thanks to this room. And we’re still not done in here after five hours, thanks to you staring at me that way from the bed. What are you reading that has you so fascinated, anyway?”
“Your old high school year book. I’m finding out all kinds of things about you I didn’t know.”
I make a face at him. “Nothing to find out. My dad used to make me work too much to be a bad girl.”
“I knew there was something about Mel I liked. You probably would have been married long before I turned up in Seattle seven years ago if he hadn’t.”
I choke on a laugh. “Yes, he kept me unattached just for you.”
He grins. “Who’s Kyle?”
I pretend to ignore the question and continue sorting through things.
“Hmm…what don’t I know?” He goes back to reading the notes written on the inside cover.
I open my small jewelry box, the kind most little girls are given, and the ballerina pops up and the music begins to play. Eric’s watch is inside.
I should have returned it to him long ago, only I haven’t. I wanted to do it in a way that was special, only I haven’t thought of one. My own Eric type of extravagant surprise, as whenever we talk about his grandfather’s watch his words suggest he doesn’t think I still have it, even though he made amends to me for having saved it.
I close the lid so he can’t see it and slyly slip it into my tote. I spring to my feet. “That’s it. Nothing left here that I want. We can start moving everything to storage.”
“I hope you’re planning to keep that. I’m not done spying.” He holds the year book out to me. “I’ll go get the cart.”
Deliberately, I toss it on the trash pile. He strides over, lifts it, and deposits it next to my tote. Laughing, I watch him hustle from the room. I’m burying my annual deep inside the get-rid-of pile as he wheels the dolly in.
We start loading the cart.
“What section of storage does this go in? Sell or donate?” he asks.
“Trash. I don’t like the thought of my stuff belonging to anyone else even though I don’t want it anymore.”
“A bit territorial, aren’t you?” He’s amused.
I plant my hands on my hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “First Ivy and the bar. Now your stuff.”
“I’m not territorial at all.”
“Damn. I was hoping you were and were territorial about me. How you get is adorable when you think someone is invading your turf. I like the thought of you being that way over me.”
“You’re so conceited, Eric.”
He pouts. “Are you saying you wouldn’t fight for me?”
“If you looked in the direction of another woman while with me—” I lift my nose. “I’d probably clobber you then walk away.”
“Good to know,” he laughs, good-humoredly.
“Consider yourself warned.”
He grins. “You’re cute when you get all bossy.”
It’s after nine before we get the junk and furniture out. We stare at the vacant space, Eric with a pleased smile and me not so much.
“It’s too late to start painting tonight. Wanna go get some dinner?” he asks.
I sigh, feeling a touch off-balance again. “If you want.”
He slips his arms around me, easing me back against him. “I could go to the kitchen and have them make something for us to eat up here. This might be our last chance to spend the night here before the tenants move in.”
“How did you know that was what I was thinking?” I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I was thinking it, too. That this is where we started, I never expected to be lucky enough to be back in this room with you again, and how perfect it would be to spend one last night here together.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Willow
“COME ON, SLEEPYHEAD. Get up.” Eric kisses me on my neck, just below the ear.
Even though I love the sound of his husky voice first thing, it’s irritating me. My limbs are pleasurably weak from last night, I’m in a delicious mood, and not ready for Eric to be cracking the whip.
“Sweetie, we’re almost done. The Claytons will be here in four hours to sign the lease. Can’t bail on me now. You’re about to become a woman who lives on passive income, now that you’ve got a tenant and gave the manager job to Ivy. That leaves you with nothing to do but me after we get the blinds up in the living room.”
We’re in my dad’s apartment and I’m warm beneath blankets on an air mattress set up in the living room that Eric borrowed from Boomer.
We’ve spent three nights here since there was work to be done and neither of us was of a mind to brave the paparazzi outside Mel’s that somehow multiplied in frightening proportions in seventy-two hours. Even Eric was surprised by the number of them and couldn’t make sense of what was up with that. He blamed it on Walker, his manager, trying to create a buzz should Eric decide to do the pay-per-view gig. It was so bad yesterday we had to send Ivy out on a survival run to grab clothes and living essentials for us. We’re basically in hiding inside my building.
“There’s my girl. You don’t want to get a reputation as a slacker. Trust me, it’s hard to shake.”
I open my eyes. He’s grinning. Can’t lie in bed all day, now can I? That part about giving Ivy my job rattles around in my head then comes into focus—no wait, I can go back to sleep if I want to. I pout, still unclear how Eric got me to agree to hand over the management of Mel’s to Ivy.
“What time is it?” I try to jerk the blankets back over me and he won’t let me.
“After eight. I already grabbed us breakfast from the kitchen so we can get right to work once you start moving.”
Oh, so that’s what I’m smelling. “Don’t want to get up. Come back to bed.”
“As tempting as you are, not happening.” He kisses me, takes my hands, and starts tugging on my limp body. He’s taking entirely too seriously my start a project, finish a project mantra that I mouthed off every time he wanted to slack off and do something more fun than paint my old bedroom yesterday.
He’s even dressed like a handyman this morning: paint-spattered old jeans, a white t-shirt, navy blue bandana hanging from his pocket, and his old all-purpose boots. It’s not fair that he looks scrumptious even dressed like that.
He stops trying to rouse me, lets me settle back on the mattress, and sits down beside me. “What’s going on? Having second thoughts about everything? Is that why you’re being so lazy this morning?”
“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I’m not lazy.”
He rubs his chin. “We’ve got things to do, baby.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you lying there?”
I toss him a naughty look and he laughs.
“Eric’s made Willow a nasty kitten.”
I smirk. “Pot calling the kettle black. Again.”
He kisses my nose this time then stands. “I’m going to eat my breakfast and hang those blinds. Stay in bed if you want. But don’t blame me if they’re not level.”
AFTER EATING, I TAKE a shower hoping it will rouse me out of my lethargy. I remember Eric’s watch hidden in my tote and inspiration hits me. I still have the pretty white box and elegant violet ribbon he wrapped my corsage in. I can swap out the drying flowers for his Rolex and give it to him at dinner.
It’s so difficult to think of how to wow a guy who has everything. But I think he’ll like my surprise. I hug myself, pleased with this thought, my limbs energized now in anticipation.
I switch off the shower, dry my body, brush out my hair, and put on the running clothes I borrowed from him. They make good work clothes, loose and comfy. I remember how he stared at me when he saw me the first time in them and how he said he’d have an erection if he ever wore them again. Yes, I’m keeping them.
Quickly, I clean up the bathroom so it will be move-in ready for my new clients, and head for the door.
Now for hanging blinds. In the living room I find Eric sitting on the air mattress, the brand-new blinds out of the box, directions in his lap, and the laptop we took from my office in the bar open in front of him blasting a YouTube video.
I choke back a laugh. “Stumped already? I would have thought you’d graduated to handyman status by now. Close the laptop, move the ladder to the window, and grab the level, Eric.”
“Not so fast.” He frowns. “This is trickier than it seems.”
Right now he looks adorably BW—Before Willow. How he was the first time we were together, confused by everything and working double-time to figure it out.
I plop down beside him. “It’s amazing you and Ethan managed to get this apartment renovated so fast and beautifully.”
“Nah, Ethan’s a master at this kind of thing. Nothing stumps Egghead. Me, give me more than one screw and I don’t know what to do.”
I tightly pucker my lips not to erupt in laughter, since his mind is far away and he didn’t realize what he said. I settle my chin on my fist and study him. He’s staring in rapt attention at the video.
“Good stuff on YouTube,” I murmur.
“Yeah. You can find everything here.”
“Is there a video in there that can get you to trust me to tell you how it’s done so we can start hanging those blinds?”
“Probably,” he mutters, distracted.
Nope, he’s not stopping before it’s over.
I reach for my tote and grab my phone, thinking to check in with Jade while he’s occupied. I hit the button. Nothing. Dead. I check Eric’s as well. Battery gone, too. I search though the small duffel Ivy brought our stuff in. Damn, we forgot to have her get a phone charger. No wonder it’s been so quiet here without Eric’s fifty dings an hour interrupting us.
I wonder when our phones ran out of juice. I’m about to go next door to Boomer’s to borrow a charger when Eric slaps closed the laptop.
“There. Know exactly what I’m doing.”
I giggle. “You’re going to be fully trained in no time. If reviving your career doesn’t work out you can go into construction.”
“Hey—I’m an expert at doing a lot of things around the house now.”
“Yeah, but they’re the kind of things if you try to make money from them you get arrested.”
He growls and launches toward me, and I dart away, laughing. “Stop it. You’re the one who said we don’t have time for that. We’ve got only two hours to get this done before the tenants arrive.”
“Don’t mock me again, woman, or I’ll have you flat on your back faster than you can say handyman.”
ERIC SETS THE LEVEL atop the last rod we hanged and studies it. “Does that look good to you?”
“Yeah. We are done. Fini.”
“What time is it?”
I check my watch. “Eleven fifty.”
“Ye of little faith in me, we have time to spare.”
His gaze strays to the air mattress, his expression sending heat through my veins, and I roll my eyes.
“Ten minutes before they get here isn’t time to spare. Hop to it. We need to get the drop cloths, the air mattress, and the ladder out of here. I want the apartment to look perfect when the Claytons arrive.”
“You’re no fun.” He folds the ladder. “What was all that come back to bed with me, Eric this morning?”
I make a face at him. “If you’d gone back to bed with me, you wouldn’t have to ask. You missed your chance.”
“No way. I’m getting you sometime today, woman.”
“Says who?” I taunt playfully.
He leers at me from the door. “Me. Count on it.”
Nasty Willow does an imaginary happy dance as I go to the kitchen to inspect the rental agreement one last time.
“CONGRATULATIONS.” I SET THE keys in Mr. Clayton’s hand. “I hope you’ll be as happy as I’ve been here.”
Eric shoots me a heated look from where he’s leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, and I fight to ignore him.
“I’m sure we will,” Mrs. Clayton gushes, over the moon to be moving in here.
“It’s a wonderful neighborhood,” I say. “You can start moving in first thing in the morning. If you park in the back alley it’s a clean shot to the elevator and you won’t be bothered by the nuisance on the sidewalk in front of Mel’s. The photographers won’t be there much longer. Everything should be back to normal soon. And if it’s not, like I said, move your things through the back entrance.”
“We don’t mind the photographers.” Blushing, she peeks over her shoulder at Eric and he smiles at her. “It’s been exciting. Not what we expected this morning signing paperwork.”
“Let me walk you out,” Eric announces.
I listen to their footsteps fade across the shiny dark floors. My hands shake as I scoop up my copy of the contract. Now that they’re gone I feel a little sad and lost, even if I’m glad the place went to such a sweet couple. I don’t have my job anymore and I don’t have Dad’s apartment.
“You doing all right, Willow?”
“I’m fine.” I brush quickly at the tears on my cheeks before I look over my shoulder at him.
The corners of his mouth move downward. “It’s OK to be sad, Willow. This place means a lot to you.”
I sniff. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He pulls me up against his chest.
“For the first time in my life, I don’t know what happens tomorrow. What I’m supposed to do.”
He tilts my chin, gazing down at me. “You’re supposed to love me, and I’m going to love you. That’s everything.”
He makes it sound so simple, only it’s not. There are too many unanswered questions, too much I don’t know about where we’re going, too much happening all at once.
“I’ve never not had a job before,” I say, sure I’m sounding lame. “I’m not a sit on my butt and invent things to do all day kind of girl like Jade. Even when the things that happen in your life are good things, they’re hard and scary. I didn’t know that before today, Eric.”
“I know, baby. It’s going to be all right.”
He holds me tightly against him, my head tucked against his chest, and it’s then I realize I’m sobbing.
AFTER MY MELTDOWN IN the apartment, Eric takes me to Volunteer Park and we wander the walkway near the wading pond hand in hand. We’re both pensive and quiet, but I think Eric’s mood is more a reflection of mine rather than how he feels.
“What are we doing? Why are we here?” I ask.
“Shame on you,” he chides. “We’re taking a walk down memory lane.”
I smile. “That was a good day. I’ve thought of it often. Us splashing around in the water and lying on the grass over there.”
“So have I, Willow.” His fingers tighten around mine. “Lots of things have happened to both of us in the last seven years. But the park is still here exactly as it always was. So is Mel’s. So is Capitol Hill. You’ll always be the same, too, Willow. Things change, but who we are never does.”
My gaze widens as I realize what he’s telling me and why he brought me here. He stops and gestures toward a long bank of bushes and trees.
“When I first hit Seattle with Hank I brought him here. I stood staring at the wading pond with memories of us running through my head. I wasn’t sure then if it were real or fantasy, how I remembered us, but I liked how those memories made me feel. Thinking of you made me feel good when hardly anything for too long made me feel that way. Next thing I know, we’re setting up camp back there, and we were living in Volunteer Park. Someplace that made me think of Willow so I could figure out what I should do about you.”
“Really?” My heart’s in my throat.
“Yep. The entire two months until I decided I had to try and not let you go. Slee
ping beneath the stars, my thoughts filled with you, and waiting for the right time to start us again.”
I kiss his bicep. “Who would have known such a softie and romantic hid inside that cocky, blustering boy that wandered into Mel’s long ago?”
“You did, Willow. Only woman ever to see inside me. And the second you did, I’ve been yours ever since. I’m sorry it took me too long to figure that out, but once I figure out things, that’s it for me. I don’t know what happens next. I don’t care because I have only one direction now. You. You’re it for me. That’s why I brought you to the park. To tell you. And that’s what happens tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eric
“FIRST THING WHEN WE get back to your place, Willow, I’ve got to call Hana,” I state as we head toward her house.
She covers my hand resting on the center console with hers. “It’s OK, Eric. I understand.”
I give her a sideways glance and she smiles, but I’m sure she thinks I’m overreacting to being a few minutes off schedule. But that’s how shit starts. You get sloppy, that hole starts to dig all by itself, disappointing the people you love, then all perspective is lost and you trip up everything you worked for.
Fuck!
My nerves jump faster, even though I remind myself it’s just a small screwup caused by a dead battery. It’s that I let it go dead and didn’t notice that Hana hadn’t texted me since our call last night until six rolled around and I grabbed my cell to call her. Six is the appointed hour every night rain or shine that I phone her, and when I couldn’t tonight it sent a full blast inside my head of all the other times I let shit slide with Hana.
“I can’t believe this fancy car doesn’t have a USB port and cord to charge your phone in.” She makes a face. “Simone should have gotten the fully loaded model.”
I laugh because she’s no doubt trying to lighten up the heavy vibe I’m sending out. “It’s a thirty-year-old Bugatti. A classic. They didn’t have phone chargers in cars back then.”
She lifts her brows. “Short-sighted of them, don’t you think?”
