She still had the cottage, a small slice of her past, that just happened to house the two people she cared about more than anyone else on the planet. Well, two people and one dog.
Excited about having to return to England, she texted Owen.
Just found out about the house! Thank you!! Guess what this means?
She hit Send and waited, knowing she needed to get lunch, but too anxious to budge from her seat. Every night, she fell asleep thinking about seeing him again. Christmas was a little over a month away, and she’d thought about surprising him with a visit, but now she had a reason to return sooner.
Her phone pinged and she picked it up, happy to see Owen had replied.
It means I’ll get to hold you in my arms soon, I hope…
She smiled, her entire soul filling with joy she held only for him. Even if neither one of them had the courage to admit it aloud to each other, imagine what could happen if they did?
She typed a response, knowing the next thing she’d do was book a flight.
Yes. And I can’t wait.
Chapter 26
Willow sank into the sofa at the Bristol nursing home, one hand on the oil painting resting against the sofa, the other firmly holding Owen’s.
He leaned close. “Remember when we danced last time we were here?”
She turned to him, smiled. “I do. A magical moment, but you’re not getting me to do it again.”
He grinned. “Why? Chicken?”
“Yes. I forgot all the steps.”
“Nah. You’ll remember. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget.”
Hettie’s voice carried from across the lobby. “What a grand surprise to see you two!”
They both looked her way, waving, but Willow quickly turned to Owen gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Ha! Saved by the bell.”
He chuckled as they both stood. “I’ll get you later.”
“We’ll see about that.” She arched a brow and walked off, letting out a little shriek when he caught right up and gave her a pat on the bottom.
Laughing, she went toward Hettie’s wheelchair. “I’m back in England for a short while and wanted to make sure I visited you again. There’s something of my grandfather’s I want you to have.”
She lifted the painting.
“Oh, my.” Hettie’s eyes instantly turned glassy. “I’d know one of Derrick’s paintings anywhere. And you’re giving it to me?”
“Yes. For your help in my search to get answers about my family.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to—”
“But I wanted to.”
Hettie took her hand, urging Willow to come closer. She gave the painting to Owen, while she gave Hettie a hug.
Hettie turned to the orderly. “Sammy, do you mind taking that to my room?”
He took the painting from Owen, who walked to the back of Hettie’s chair to move her toward the sofa, so the three could sit and talk.
Willow told her about the journey on the Cotswold Way and finding Sean. When she shared the news about her mother’s possible involvement with two men, Hettie winced and shook her head. “Ah, no wonder Sarah was so quiet and upset.”
“Yes. But on a happier note, when I got here five days ago, the first thing Owen and I did was meet with a second cousin in Canterbury. If you hadn’t identified my mother’s cousin, I’d never have known to look them up.”
Hettie patted her hand. “So happy for you, dear. So happy.”
While the two women talked and she shared about her company in the States, every so often she’d glance at Owen. He silently watched her, his eyes bright and not quite smiling, but he looked happy. Especially whenever she talked to him this week about the changes at the firm.
Half an hour later, they hugged Hettie goodbye and left. As they reached the van, he opened her door.
“Thank you, kind sir. The men in Manhattan could learn from you.”
He smiled, and as she moved to get inside, he grabbed her hand. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” He drew her tightly to him and secured her arms around his waist.
Of course. The look he’d given her. It was pride. “Thank you. I’m not sure anybody has ever been proud of me.”
“No? Well, you’d better get used to it, Rosebud.”
Then he kissed her, one of many she’d received since landing at Heathrow. Making her think about how much she’d miss the cozy little life she’d settled into these past five days. A couple of days left then she’d sign the papers and return home.
As she slipped into the car, he said, “We’ve got one more stop. A surprise.”
“More surprises from you, huh?” Willow studied him as he stared straight ahead at the road with a slight grin. “Do I get a hint?”
“Nope.” He glanced her way and winked.
They drove, and no matter how many different ways she asked, he refused to tell her.
Soon they passed a sign reading “Welcome to Painswick.”
She turned to him. “What are you doing?”
“Sean’s expecting you.”
“What? Why?”
Owen shrugged. “I stopped in to see him one day.” He glanced over at her, hesitation in his gaze. “He’s expecting us but, so it’s not a total shock for you, I’ll tell you why we’re going. He says he’ll do the paternity test.”
Willow’s eyes watered. She’d tried to justify not knowing, telling herself it no longer mattered, but it really did. “You went to see him?”
He shrugged. “I know you were fine if he didn’t take it…” He exhaled loudly. “Look, I can see you when I look at him. My gut tells me he’s the one. And…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Now that I’m working hard to make things better with my dad, I just know having a relationship with your dad does matter.”
Owen. A true prince of men. She took his hand and squeezed it tight. “Thanks. I owe you so much.”
“No, dear Willow.” He softly smiled. “I truly owe you.”
Leaving here this time would be even harder. Because this place, with this man, felt more like where she belonged than anywhere else in the world.
* * * *
Warm air brushed Owen’s ear. Willow in his bed sure made him happy. He smiled into his pillow and turned his head to the side. As he slowly opened his eyes, he said, “Good morning, sweet—” Henry stood at the sofa’s edge staring at Owen, wagging his tail while one of Owen’s socks dangled from his mouth.
Owen rolled onto his side. “Blimey. You’re not Willow and I’m not in her bed.”
Henry jumped onto the sofa, squeezing his long body alongside Owen’s.
Owen threw an arm around him and quietly laughed so he didn’t wake the others. “Good thing you aren’t a mind reader, Henry.”
Not exactly where Owen wanted to be right now but for Jilly’s sake, he’d given Willow his bedroom while he slept on the sofa during her stay… At least from about three a.m. on. Each night, once certain Jilly had fallen asleep, he’d crawl into his own bed with Willow, always sneaking out hours before sunrise in case Jilly woke before them.
A noise came from his room and before he could grab the dog’s collar, Henry leapt off the sofa and raced down the hallway. Owen planted his feet on the floor, stretched his arms over his head, then got up and slipped sweatpants on over his boxer shorts.
When he reached his room, he found Henry on the bed snuggled next to Willow, who smiled at him, her hair mussed and eyes sleepy. The sock still dangled from Henry’s mouth.
“Sorry. He woke me, too.”
“It’s fine. How could I ever get mad at that face?” She took an end of the sock and tugged to Henry’s delight.
Owen sat on the edge of the mattress and Willow let go of the sock and rubbed his back with her warm hand, her eyes hooded. “I wish you’d woke me.”
> He chuckled. “Me too. Henry came over and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I woke thinking it was you.”
“Hmmm.” She grinned. “I’m not going to even ask how you confused me with the dog.”
He took Henry’s sock, tossed it on the floor, and crawled into the bed beside Willow. Henry jumped right back up, but Owen had already claimed the coveted spot near Willow so Henry plopped down at the foot of the bed.
Brushing a few stray hairs from her eyes, he smiled. “Imagine my disappointment when I found out who it was.”
She laughed, her happiness igniting a spark inside his chest. God, he had missed her these past months. Since her first trip here, he’d watched her slowly transform. A rosebud opening its petals and revealing a glorious flower. She’d returned with her confidence fully blossomed, radiating an outer beauty that someone could only possess if they believed in it at their core.
“Henry!” Jilly stood at the door, pulling Owen from the thoughts. “When did he leave my room?”
“A few minutes ago.” Willow patted on the bed. “Come on in. We’re having a party.”
“I love parties.” She rushed over and pounced onto the mattress, then scrambled next to the dog. “Daddy, can you make pancakes for our party?”
“What?” Owen pulled a face that caused his daughter to laugh. “I’m tired. Maybe you should help me.”
“I want to stay with Willow.” Jilly crawled into the space between them. “It’s fun in this bed. We should all sleep here.”
Owen laughed and glanced at Willow, who smiled and raised a brow his way. “I’m afraid there isn’t enough room. I mean, Henry is a long dog and likes to stretch out.”
“Oh, I had this dream…” Jilly talked about her dream, not responding to Owen’s concerns about the potential sleeping arrangements. Willow hung on every word, occasionally asking questions.
Owen’s heart swelled, so heavily that for a moment, he thought he’d stopped breathing. These two people were everything to him. He didn’t care that he’d only known Willow a short while. Fact was, he’d never cared about any woman in the same way.
She’d leave again soon. They’d resume a long-distance relationship of sorts. And if he didn’t speak up, she’d leave not knowing the one thing he knew true, without any doubt.
He loved Willow Armstrong.
* * * *
Willow headed through the trees to the house, leaving behind Owen while he got Jilly ready for their long drive to visit Warwick Castle.
Heaviness followed her over, not from the chocolate chip pancake breakfast. More the idea that tomorrow she’d sign the house over to developers who would change everything about it.
She unlocked the door and walked inside. A far cry from her first time entering. Cleaner, brighter. No stench. Cleaning this house had been a journey of its own.
She walked through every room, making sure they’d removed everything that had remained yesterday. Her gaze traveled to details like the intricate woodwork and the high ceilings. No doubt considered quite lovely back when her grandparents had lived here.
On her way up the staircase, she passed outlines of places where photographs had once sat for decades. Many had been packed in her luggage when she visited her cousin, and the faces now had names. On a future visit, she’d told Willow she’d invite some other family members.
She stopped in her mother’s room. The place where all the secrets kept hidden from Willow had unfolded. The odds Sean was her father were fifty-fifty. Even if he wasn’t, after talking to him yesterday, she’d learned how much he once loved her mother. His stories about their times together were invaluable, helping to ease anger accumulated as Willow learned the truth.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Becky, asking if a vendor they did business with still fit into their new marketing plan. She typed out a response and hit Return.
As she slid the phone back into the back pocket of her jeans, Willow stared out the window at the barren trees, no longer masking the cottage. Sadness at having to leave burrowed inside her chest, the weight of it heavier than last time she’d have to go. She wished she could stay.
She imagined the house, pulled apart and turned into separate dwelling units. Updated, but would it change the character she loved so much about this house? Worse, it would put an end to the place that represented her family’s history.
When her mother had received the will, she could’ve sold this place and not said a word to anybody. Yet she hadn’t.
Money that had driven Willow when she first arrived mattered less now. Some of her funds had been retrieved with the arrest of Tom Comstock, who would pay a stiff penalty for what he’d done to her and a few other clients. And Pound Busters stock prices had jumped after an article about their new marketing strategy.
Her phone buzzed again, Becky thanking her and telling her she’d sent off an email to Willow about a personal matter.
She started to respond but reality slowly settled in. All week, she’d been here, but conducting business. One day, they’d even Skyped her into a meeting. Trans-Atlantic flights were easy to get if she needed to be in New York.
So, what if she kept the house and renovated it over time? She could live here. Work here. Heathrow Airport was easy to get to with the great public transportation in this country. Gosh, she could even start a Pound Busters in England.
This country held everything she’d every longed for. Family, friends, love, and the heritage she always craved. She belonged here.
Excitement coursed through her veins as little details fell into place. She screeched on the brakes of her excitement. Would Owen be glad?
All week he’d been looking at her in a way that sent an arrow straight to her heart. She couldn’t deny they had strong feelings for each other, but did he want her to live in England permanently?
From the window, she watched Owen exit the cottage with Jilly. She ran to the swing set while Owen headed through the path.
The sight of him made her stomach flutter, her pulse pick up. Yes, everything here felt right. Including him.
How would he react to the plans she had in her head? Everything could change with a simple call to Hope. When he entered the yard, she opened the window and leaned out. “I’m up here.”
He glanced up and his face bloomed into a classic Owen smile. “Should I come save you, Rapunzel?”
She laughed, slowly stopping as his expression became serious. “What’s wrong?”
He stepped closer to house and stopped directly beneath the window. “Nothing is wrong. I’ve just wanted to say something to you all week.”
“What?”
He drew in a deep breath, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand for a second then met her gaze. “I’m falling hopelessly in love with you, Willow Armstrong. I want you as part of my life. I’ll cross oceans if need be to make this thing between us work out.” He exhaled and smiled. “There. Well, that was easier than I’d thought.” He frowned. “I couldn’t let you leave again without you knowing.”
She wanted to pinch herself, make sure this wasn’t a dream. “I love you, too, Owen. I did when I left here last time. Listen, I’ve got some big news.”
His brows lifted. “Since I saw you ten minutes ago?”
She nodded. “I’m not selling the house.”
“What…since when?”
“It’s a last-minute decision. I figured out how I can work from here, and when I can’t, I’ll return to New York for a few days. And this house, I want to fix it up and live here. I can’t give up this place. It’s all I have left of a family I wish I’d known.”
“That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.” He grinned, raised his brows. “I was thinking, this would be a great conversation to have standing a little closer. Don’t you think?”
She laughed. “You’re right. On my way down.”
She rus
hed down the stairs and out the front door. Owen approached the porch. When he saw her, he opened his arms, guiding her straight to the path of her new beginning. A path that might have some bumps, and a lot of uncertainty, but she’d never know if it was right unless she took a chance.
The End
The Sweet Life
Keep reading for a glimpse of another installment of Sharon Struth’s Sweet Life series!
Learn more about Sharon at
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31604
In Italy, the best attractions are always off the beaten path . . .
Mamie Weber doesn’t know why she survived that terrible car accident five years ago. Physically, she has only a slight reminder—but emotionally, the pain is still fresh. Deep down she knows her husband would have wanted her to embrace life again. Now she has an opportunity to do just that, spending two weeks in Tuscany reviewing a tour company for her employer’s popular travel guide series. The warmth of the sun, the centuries-old art, a villa on the Umbrian border—it could be just the adventure she needs.
But with adventure comes the unexpected . . . like discovering that her entire tour group is made up of aging ex-hippies reminiscing about their Woodstock days. Or finding herself drawn to the guide, Julian, who is secretly haunted by a tragedy of his own, and seems to disapprove any time she tries something remotely risky—like an impromptu scooter ride with a local man.
As they explore the hilltop towns of Tuscany, Mamie knows that when this blissful excursion is over, she’ll have to return to reality. But when you let yourself wander, life can take some interesting detours . . .
Chapter 1
Mamie Weber’s hands trembled as she shoved aside piles of neatly stacked clothes inside her luggage. Beneath her underwear, she found the well-worn Yankees cap, tossed it on to cover her unwashed hair, and tugged her ponytail through the back opening. She left her luggage on the bed and hurried to the hotel room door, officially fifteen minutes late. She inhaled a deep breath to steady her nerves and hoped the bus hadn’t left without her.
Willow's Way Page 25
