Probably the booze. And the pain.
Still, knowing what she’d just said could have come from an entirely different place, he admitted to himself how he might be developing the same kinds of feelings for her.
Chapter 23
Willow slowly moved her lips, dry as a midday desert. She wet them with her tongue and stopped when a searing pain pierced her skull.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she shifted on the mattress, causing every single muscle in her body to silently scream. Had she been run over by a truck?
Flashbacks of last night slowly emerged. The friendly bar, where everybody seemed to know her name. She’d swear she even met a guy named Norm, or maybe she’d only made a joke about it. Especially after having her second drink and sharing all about herself with them. One glass of whiskey to drown her sorrows led to another and another.
A warm hand slipped onto her hip. Owen. His handsome face when he’d arrived at the bar had brought her such joy, and the tender way he guided her to the hotel was the stuff that created heroes.
She rolled onto her back. The room tilted right and left, back and forth. Worse than any carnival ride she’d ever gone on. She shut her eyes, but the room’s movement persisted. Her neck and forehead beaded with sweat.
Bile rose in the back of her throat. She tossed off the covers and flew out of the bed, reaching the bathroom just in time to drop to the toilet bowl. She waited a few minutes and got sick a second time. With a washcloth against her forehead, she sat on the floor and waited until the nausea passed.
Getting to her feet, she started the shower and stepped inside. The hot water beat on her skin, slowly waking her as the steam’s healing properties rinsed away her hangover. After the shower, she brushed her teeth, towel-dried her hair, and wrapped a towel around her torso.
Tiptoeing into the room, she glanced at the bed. Owen lay on his back with his eyes shut, one arm extended to her side of the bed, the other bent at the elbow and stretched over his head. A sheet covered him from the navel down, leaving his bare torso exposed. She studied the thin, dark patch of hairs on his abdomen flowing in a line to his navel, the hard plane of his chest. Easily aroused by the sight of him, she squeezed her thighs together.
She quietly opened her rucksack and took out clean panties and a T-shirt for the day.
As she slipped on the panties and the shirt, he cleared his throat. “You okay, Rosebud?”
She turned around. His sleepy gaze met hers as he patted the spot beside him.
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she reached for his hand. “Not when I first woke, but now I feel better.” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 6:15. “It’s early.”
He nodded, watching her with a heat in his eyes that burned straight into her core. She stretched alongside him, comforted when he folded his arms around her and tugged her against his side.
She pressed her palm to the dark shadow of his cheek. “Thank you for worrying enough to find me last night. How’d you know where I was?”
“Finding you was dumb luck.” He drew in a breath. “I won’t lie. I’ve asked each of the hotels to call me when you arrive and leave each day. Just to keep tabs on you.”
“Wow, you did?” Willow couldn’t remember a time when anybody cared enough to do such a thing for her, at least in her adult life.
He nodded. “Are you mad?”
“No. Not at all. I’m not used to anyone worrying about me.” She leaned over and brushed her lips to his, a minor gift considering how much she valued his concern. “It’s nice to have someone care about my well-being.”
“Of course I do.” He ran a finger along her cheek. “Last night, you told me a little about what happened when you found Sean.”
Yesterday’s sadness rolled in like a black cloud, but being in Owen’s hold made it easier to handle. “How much did I tell you?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
“You said your mother had been involved with two men. And you mumbled something about your grandfather, but it wasn’t clear.”
To relive the painful journey hurt, but she relayed details on her mother’s two lovers and confirmed Hettie’s revelation about the reasons her mother and Sean secretly dated.
“So the two men, seems either one could be my father.” A wave of disgust for her mother barreled toward Willow. She released a shaky breath. “My mom was a real gem, huh? Cheating on Sean. Lying to me my whole life.”
Owen frowned. “Yeah, I’d be upset, too. But she wanted you enough to leave here to keep you.”
“When you say it like that, I feel like a schmuck for feeling crummy.”
Owen stroked her hair. “Don’t. I’m just saying, she did one thing right.”
Willow smiled at him, warmth rising inside of her, followed by regret her time in England would soon end.
“Did you see anything about the other guy in your mother’s diary?”
“I only read the first few pages and then I zipped to the end. Once I’d read that she got pregnant but couldn’t tell Sean, I figured that said it all. Guess it was shortsighted not to read more.”
“You know, there’s still a chance Sean is your dad.”
Her throat grew thick, Sean’s lack of interest in her as his daughter tore at her heart, as painful as her mother’s lies. “He doesn’t want to know.” She shrugged, afraid to say more and start crying, but the pity in Owen’s eyes coaxed them out.
Owen gathered her tightly and placed gentle kisses on her head, murmured how everything would be okay.
She sniffled and looked up. “How’d I get lucky enough to meet you on this journey?”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” He pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and dabbed her eyes. She smiled at him while taking the tissue and wiping her nose.
“Better?” He raised a brow.
“Thanks to you.” She pressed her hands to his chest, thinking about some other decisions she’d made while on her walk. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He shifted his pillow and rose up on his elbow. “Sounds serious.”
“It kind of is. I’m not going to sell the cottage.”
His thick brows drew together. “So, you’re still selling the house but keeping the cottage.”
“Yes.”
He nodded, but his jaw tightened. “So then you like the area enough to keep a place here?”
“Sort of.” She dropped her gaze to the white sheet covering the space between them while searching for the right words. “I…I…”
“Just say what you need to say, Willow. It’s me you’re talking to.”
“I don’t want to sell it because I don’t want you to have to move.”
He dropped his head back onto the pillow. “I don’t feel right about this. You need the money.”
“I talked to an attorney and he said I could sell only the house and keep the cottage. If I keep it, then I’ll have a place here if I want to come visit. And then you guys can stay there.”
He smiled softly, ran a finger along her cheek. “That’s very nice of you, sweetheart. But I insist on paying you rent—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Stop. If I keep the place, I’ll need someone to keep an eye on it while I’m in the States.”
He flinched. “Yes, you’re leaving soon. When you come back, you’ll want the cottage. Won’t you?”
She groaned and pressed her hands to his chest. “Stop making this harder than it is, Owen. I’ll stay with you and…” Their future together held all the uncertainty of a partially sunny day. What if he began to date someone after she left or she did? Visits here would be different. “Look, I just feel like I need to keep a piece of myself here and the cottage is it. So, I’d be honored if you and your family stayed in it. At least until I’m sure what my future holds.”<
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Staring at the ceiling, he ran a hand through his hair leaving the dark ends sticking up. “And I’m honored you’d ask me, but I don’t want to feel like charity case. I’m happy to pay you some—”
“No.” She moved closer to his side and cupped her face in her hands. “I don’t want rent. It’s not charity. It’s the arrangement you have now, only now you know me. Please say yes. I trust you.”
For a moment, he stared at her, then a smile slowly surfaced. “Okay. I’ll do it. Thank you,” he said softly. “I won’t let you down.”
Her heart swelled, filled with gratitude for Owen’s generosity and caring. She inched closer, curled her fingers through his thick hair. “I know you won’t.”
Owen dipped his head and brushed his lips to hers. As he drew back, he stared into her eyes, searching as if he were memorizing them. In a tender voice, he asked, “Last night, before you went to sleep, do you remember anything else?”
Flashbacks sorted through her mind, some clear, others fuzzy. “Like?”
“Nothing.”
He kissed her again while smoothing his hand along her waist, to her hip, and to her backside, making both a physical need for him and one close to her heart soar. She slipped her arms around his waist and urged him closer, and that’s when it hit her…
Last night, he’d crawled into bed, pressed his warm body to hers, sending her heart spiraling upward with something unexpected. A fulfilling sensation she’d never allowed too close: the idea of love.
Had she said the words swirling inside her head? She thought hard and a single moment came into focus. I love you. Yes, she’d said it. Because he made her feel all kinds of special. Notice things in herself she’d never seen before. But love? She couldn’t possibly love a man in this short time. Could she?
But what if her vague recollection was wrong and she hadn’t spoken those words? She didn’t need that embarrassment after losing all hope of finding her father.
She leaned forward and kissed him. “I do remember your kindness by helping me to the hotel. That meant the world.”
He smiled and nodded, but she swore behind his eyes she caught a glimpse of disappointment.
* * * *
Willow quickly exited the email from her lawyer. His news helped her answer a question she’d been contemplating since getting ready to leave the hotel this morning. Putting her phone on the table, she stared out the small café’s window to the quaint street.
While Owen had showered earlier, she’d given much thought to the remainder of her time on the Cotswold Way. A journey where she’d believed she might find her father and solve a mystery haunting her for a lifetime. But like all the recent events in her life, it hadn’t work out as planned.
Which got her thinking about everything driving her weight over the years. Once she’d started that company, a slip in the scale held the terror of a noose around her neck. Not a healthy outlook. She needed to find ways to cope when things didn’t go as planned.
“Tea and a toast for my heavy drinker.” Owen placed a mug in front of Willow.
She glanced up and smiled at him. “Don’t remind me.” She leaned over the cup and inhaled the scent. Heavenly tea. “Thank you. This is just what I needed.”
He stirred sugar into his mug of coffee. “What time are you getting back on the trail?”
She met his gaze. With Abe’s news, she really only had one answer to give Owen. “I’m not doing the rest.”
He tipped his head and frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and sometimes it isn’t always about finishing the journey, it’s what you gain while on it. This walk has made me pause and take a good look at my life. I once measured success by a number on the scale. A pretty sad statement. Maybe true success is about loving yourself no matter the number on the scale or finishing the trail.” She shrugged. “Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely.” He took her hand. “And Sean?”
“I didn’t get what I wanted, but he did share some wonderful memories about my mother. Stories I’d never heard before.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad. It sounds like you learned more about yourself walking half of the way than some others do on the full hundred miles.”
She laughed. “Maybe. That time alone, removed from the day-to-day, taught me to stop and really look around. That’s where the important things are all happening in our lives. It’s easy to miss them.” She sighed, overwhelmed by the idea she’d been so singled-minded for decades. “All that beauty makes you think about your place in the universe.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “Beautiful observation. I may have to walk it again myself.”
“Maybe one day I’ll come back and we can walk it together. So many times I wished you were with me.”
He smiled. “Aw, now you’re making my heart sing, Rosebud.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“Hell, no. I thought about you each and every day. Not just about your safety, but I wished I could’ve been at your side, shared what I know about the countryside.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I’m going to make you keep that promise.”
He let go of her hand and they quietly ate.
As she picked at her crust, she searched for the right words to tell him what she’d just read, then opted to just get the truth out on the table. “I got an email from my lawyer this morning.”
He looked up, still spreading his jam. “Oh?”
“I’ve been avoiding the Pound Busters board because they want to fire me. But it seems they’re tired of waiting for me to respond and have decided to take a vote in four days…with or without me there.”
He lowered his knife, shaking his head. “It’s crazy they’d sack you from the company you started. Hardly seems just.”
“When I went public I knew the risks, but I’m inclined to agree. Abe, my lawyer, thinks I should come back home. He’s convinced enough of them will vote to keep me if I show up. The current board president is losing some favor with them.”
“Sounds very political.”
She nodded. “Yes, the boardroom can be.”
He stared at his plate. When he finally looked up, his Adam’s apple rolled along his throat. “So, I guess you’re keen to get leaving soon?”
“I’m going to try to get on the flight leaving tomorrow morning.” She reached out for his hand, mostly to steady a tidal wave of sorrow knocking her for a loop. “Today I need to talk to the realtor again, but with the work almost done, I’m hoping to get the place listed.”
He gave her a closed-lip smile. “I can help you with that.” His smile faded. “I really can’t thank you enough. Don’t ever feel like you can’t sell the cottage, though. Jilly, she just needs time to adjust. It was only a short year ago her mother passed and…” He drew in a breath. “Well, I expect in time, she’ll be able to cope with a move.”
“Owen. It’s fine. Right now, I’d feel better if you two stayed. For Jilly and Henry.”
She dropped her chin, staring into her tea, much easier than absorbing the pain radiating from Owen’s eyes. Jilly. Henry. Owen. They felt like family.
“Hey.”
Owen’s deep voice made her look up. His sadness had gone and, in its place, he grinned.
“What?”
“Come on. Let’s make the most of today. And tomorrow, I’ll drive you to Heathrow.” His eyes softened. “You’re a special woman, Willow Armstrong, and I’m lucky to have met you.”
She got up and walked over to him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she enjoyed a moment lost in his rich, brown eyes. “Owen. It’s me who’s the lucky one.”
She leaned over and pressed her lips to his, thinking about the words she couldn’t bring herself to say. Yet every fiber in her being wanted Owe
n to understand that leaving him behind would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.
His hands slipped around her waist and he pulled her onto his lap.
“Hey!” She laughed. “What are you doing?”
“This.” He pushed his fingers through her hair and kissed her in a way that told her he understood exactly how she felt about him.
Chapter 24
The cab driver mumbled something in Greek and tooted his horn. “Come on!”
Willow dragged her gaze from commuters hustling into Grand Central Terminal for their ride home to the driver, a sweet old man who’d been very talkative since he’d picked her up at her co-op for the board meeting. “I haven’t missed the mayhem of rush hour.”
“You best to stay in England, yes?” His dark gaze watched her in the rearview mirror.
“It would’ve been nice. Certainly not much traffic where I visited.”
They turned onto 42nd Street and approached Bryant Park, where shoppers mingled in the makeshift shops lining the popular tourist destination. White lights in park’s trees twinkled as dusk darkened the cityscape. A perfect New York photo moment, one that would’ve suited the calendar Willow had found in her mother’s room.
When she’d returned to Bitton from her walk on the Cotswold Way, she’d retrieved her mother’s diary from a box about to be mailed to the US. The next day, on the long trans-Atlantic flight home, she’d devoured every last word. She’d cried a few times. The words carried her mother’s voice, as if she’d returned from the past and were speaking directly to her.
She learned her mother had loved both Sean and Elliot. The college boy had swept her mother under his charming spell, but not enough to alter what she had felt for Sean. That single notion brought Willow comfort.
Earlier entries about Willow’s grandfather showed her mom had a close bond with him. Perhaps when he’d caught her with Elliot and learned of her pregnancy, shame made her run and never return. It was a logic Willow would never know, but it would explain the regret often visible in her mother’s eyes when she’d share a rare tale about her parents.
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