“No, actually you didn’t. You have barely spoken to me in the last two weeks.” Two weeks. The night I asked her, was the same night Scarlett called. And I haven’t really talked to her. Shit.
I don’t know what to say, feeling torn. Obviously, I’m going to take Willow, but angry or not, I wouldn’t intentionally drop Scarlett at the last minute, especially for an event she’s worked so hard on.
“Look, Piers, it’s fine. I get it; I really do. She’s the mother of your child. You’re making her feel welcome.” She sighs dramatically. “I’ll ask Teddy. I’m sure he wasn’t planning on bringing a date anyway. Win-win. Seriously, don’t worry. You’re doing it to be nice because you have to, so she doesn’t bolt again.”
“I’m not taking her to be nice. What the hell is your problem?” I growl out, angry with her because a minute ago I was feeling guilty for not backing out; and then she throws out a comment like that, and I’m reminded how selfish she can be.
“Of course not. Whatever, Piers. Just grab your mask.”
“Forget the mask. I think we’ve all done enough hiding, wouldn’t you agree?” I snap.
“Don’t be dramatic. It’s the theme; you’re the host. You have to wear a mask,” She reminds me. I hate that she’s right.
“I’ll call Harrods and have another sent over for Willow,” she offers. “See...that’s me, playing nice. But I need to know what her dress looks like.”
“I’ll find out and get back to you. I’m here to get Drew, so I really need to go,” I tell her as I pull through the gates.
“I take it you told him then? He knows you’re his dad?” Her voice is softer now.
I really don’t want to get into all of this with her now. I’m so proud to be Drew’s dad I want to tell anyone who will listen. It feels wrong sharing this with her, but she’s my friend. One of my oldest and most trusted friends. But if she did what Willow said, could I ever really trust her?
“I guess that’s a yes. You didn’t think you could call me?” she whispers.
“Scarlett, I—” I have no idea what to say. Everything has changed, and I’m not sure what I’m doing, who I am. Who I need to be.
“What’s going on with you, Piers?” She sounds sad, and I hate that. But what about Willow? If Willow is my future, does that make Scarlett my past?
“I don’t know.” I release a long even breath. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I barely catch her muffled goodbye before ending the call.
The questions and worry all fade away when I step out of my car and hear the crunch of gravel as Drew runs to greet me. Nothing else matters in that moment, as my green-eyed boy jumps into my arms. “Dad! You’re home!” Home.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WILLOW
I’m nervous as I dress for this evening’s event. This isn’t really my type of thing. Sure, I’m a girly girl when I need to be...but this is a far cry from a sundress and sandals. I put the finishing touches on my makeup, studying myself in the vanity mirror – Wildfire hair tamed in a sweeping side bun, smoky topaz eyes complete with catlike liner, and a little bronzer to warm my fair skin.
I gently turn my head from side to side, pleased with what I’ve done. Not too bad for someone who usually wears the bare minimum, mascara and lip gloss. “Oh, my lips.” I realize I haven’t yet glossed them.
My gaze travels over the beautiful wooden vanity at all the cosmetics Piers had delivered here this morning. Even though I explained I had such items, he insisted as is his way. A tube catches my eye, and I see on the bottom is says, “Ruby Red Slippers.” Well, we definitely aren’t in Kansas anymore. I think to myself. Opening the tube, I see that it is indeed a vibrant red.
While I contemplate if it’s too vibrant, my mind wanders back to an evening much like this. I sat in this room while my Aunt Wendy sat at this very vanity and dressed for a charity gala. She was truly unique while remaining elegant and refined. I always admired that about her. She knew who she was and her confidence was unwavering. She always knew just what to say.
“Willy bug, my love, never be afraid to go bold,” she insists as she applies a deep red stain to her lips. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” She adds with a teasing wink.
I feign my annoyance at her use of my childhood nickname. “Aunty Wen, whenever will you stop calling me that? I’m nearly 18 years old now,” I remind her, rolling my eyes. I secretly love it that she still calls me this term of endearment. It’s something my father used to call me...my parents have been gone nearly two years, and I hold on to this pet name as a way to stay connected to them.
“When you stop calling me Aunty Wen,” she retorts. She got me there, so I change the subject.
“Anyway, Millie Matthews says wearing red lips when you have red hair is a fashion faux pas.” I mock, rolling my eyes because we both know I couldn’t care less about silly Millie and her small minded ideals.
She finishes applying the red lipstick, her eyes finding mine in the mirror. “What do you think?” She turns around, and I study her, in awe of how she looks after nearly an hour of meticulously fixing her hair and makeup.
I love watching her get ready, but at the same time, it’s bittersweet because I think of all the times I’ll miss with my mother, watching her get ready, teaching me how to apply the perfect cat eye or sweep my hair unto a perfect chignon. Thankfully, because of my aunt Wendy, I’ll never be alone.
“You look beautiful,” I say, going to stand beside her.
“Then I’d say little Miss Millie Matthews doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Wendy smiles at me.
She takes my hand into hers. “Willow, the real faux pas in fashion, and life, is not being true to yourself. If you love it or it makes you feel good, don’t be swayed by people who live life in a box. You, my dear, are exquisite, red hair and all.” Her eyes start to tear up, and she let’s go to of my hands, grabbing a tissue to blot her eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” She asks, and I nod, knowing that we’re talking about so much more than makeup.
The memory fades, and I’m left fighting back tears as I look into the mirror and say to myself, “Red lips it is.”
§
PIERS
“How much longer?” Drew grumbles, moving up and down the last couple of stairs impatiently, and I laugh to myself because he shares my patience, or lack thereof. “I’ll die from waiting.” He finally lays on the very last step, tapping his little Converse sneakers on the wood.
“I can definitely second that,” I mumble under my breath.
A door opens upstairs, and we hear footsteps, causing him to gasp and jump up. “Now! She’s coming. Get ready!” He stands, imitating the guards that we saw at the palace.
“Announcing Queen of the fairies, her royal majesty, Wilhelmina Mary Darling,” Drew calls out dramatically from the bottom step where he stands holding Pete. I walk to the base of the ornate wooden staircase and let her come to me, fighting myself to rush the steps, two at time, to get to her faster. Patience.
Willow descends, floating down the stairs, stealing my breath with each step that she takes. My eyes begin at the bottom and slowly work their way up her body. She is a vision in an emerald green designer gown. The flowing chiffon fabric, flaring out from her waist, is adorned with some type of silver jeweled band or belt. My gaze continues its journey upward to find her bodice is covered in lace, delicate, emerald fabric that shimmers, giving the illusion that the lace is the only thing covering her. Swallowing, I attempt to draw in a breath and loosen my bow tie. My eyes, unable to look away from the plunging lace neckline, drink in her creamy ivory skin. The green lace makes a V on her torso, leaving her shoulders and arms bare.
“Willow, you look stunning.” I reach for her hand, when she’s close enough, and help her down the last few stairs. When we are standing toe to toe, she looks up at me, and I see her beautiful face. Her makeup offsets her hazel eyes making them shine. Her hair is pulled away from her shoulders, and I have to stop myself fr
om running my fingers through it.
“Thank you, Piers. You look rather dashing yourself. Love the bow tie.” She reaches out to touch the black tie at my neck. Hearing her voice draws my attention to her lips. Holy hell. They are red. Not pink, not peach, but take me to bed red.
“Your lips!” I gasp. How did I miss those?
“Yesssss.” She purrs, pouting them at me. Little minx.
“Oh, Willow.” I close my eyes, imagining all the ways we can smear that red, before taking a deep breath and pulling it together.
“Mum, you look like a real fairy queen!” Drew moves to stand between us with Pete squeezed under his arm.
“Thank you, darling boy!” She runs her fingers through his dark mop.
“Here, Drew. Better let me take Mr. Pirate Pete. I don’t think his claws and mum’s dress would get along too nicely.” He reluctantly gives me the kitten, and I walk over and lay Pete in a basket by the door, careful not to get cat hair all over my tux. Thankfully a shoestring is nearby, so Pete doesn’t follow me.
Anna walks in the foyer to join us. “Oh Willow, you’re a vision.” She pulls out a hankie and starts tearing up as Willow reminds Drew to mind his manners.
“Now you remember to be on your best behavior tonight for Anna. You promise me, Drew.” I love watching Willow mother him. Something I never had, until Wendy. “It was very kind of her to ask you to stay over in her cottage, I can only imagine the wonderful adventures you might have.”
“I know! And Pete too! We’re making cookies and watching Paddington Bear! Like Paddington station where me and Dad are going to go watch the trains.” Drew jumps up and down, and my heart melts. It’s only been nearly a week since the day we told him, and I’ll never tire of him calling me Dad. On cue, hearing his name, here comes Pete, rubbing his little fur ball self all over my black slacks.
“Drew, time to grab Pete and get your things,” Anna tells Drew as he hugs me goodbye. “You kids have a wonderful time. And remember you have the house ALL to yourselves.” She does that awkward winking thing again. If I didn’t know better, I would guess Ms. Anna is on my side.
“Goodnight, my sweet prince.” Willow laughs and hugs Drew once more before he turns to go with Anna. Glancing across from me, I see the table full of photographs, memories, families...and an idea strikes.
“Wait, just one second.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my mobile and hand it to Anna. “Would you snap a photo of us, please?”
“Of course, what a wonderful idea!” She smiles and takes it from my hands.
“Drew, come here lad. Willow.” I pull her next to me, and I lift him in my arms, holding him between us.
“Say cheese!” Anna calls out.
“Cheese!” we reply in unison.
Anna hands me back the phone. “Thank you.”
“Are you going to get married now?” Drew asks. “I’m excited to go to Anna’s, but I’m sad to miss the wedding. Pete too. Especially if there is going to be cake and dancing.”
Our mouths drop open in shock, and it’s Willow who finds her voice first. “Drew dear, whatever would give you such an idea?”
“Well, you both are all dressed up. He has a tie; you have on a fairy dress and paint on your face.” I suppress the urge to chuckle. “And you’re a mum and a dad, and that’s what they do when they love each other. They get married.” Oh, son.
“Oh, Drew. Honey, Mum would never have a wedding without you! Neither would your dad. Okay? Who would walk me down the aisle and give me away?” He smiles up at her, and she continues. “We are just learning to be a family. We don’t have to rush anything, all right?”
“Okay,” he answers her, and I’m still having trouble finding my voice. My heart is overflowing, and I can’t get the vision out of my head now of Willow walking towards me in white lace and Drew walking alongside her, holding her hand.
We say our goodbyes, and while Willow turns to grab her clutch, I study the picture. We’re in our evening best, and Drew is in his pirate pajamas. It’s the most perfect picture ever. My family.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WILLOW
The car pulls up outside a round Tudor style building, and the doorman opens the door for me as Piers comes around the car. “M’ lady,” he teases, sweeping his hand out in a grand gesture and offering me his arm.
“Charming, thank you.” Taking his arm, I smile, excited for what the night will bring. Reaching up to make sure my jeweled mask is secure, I get a better look at our location. “Wait, is this the Globe Theater? What are we doing here?” I’m confused because I thought the gala was at a hotel.
“You’ll see.” He returns my smile, looking sinfully handsome with his dark waves swept back to the side and his black mask framing his emerald eyes. “Yes, it’s the Globe, but not technically at the Globe…a secret location.” He winks and holds onto me as we walk.
“What do you mean a secret location?” I look up at him then at the round building in front of us.
“Willow, don’t forget to smile.” He looks back towards where he is walking, but my eyes are still on him. Smile?
“What do you mean?” I squeeze his hand.
Before he can answer me, we are blinded by the flash of photographers. “Right this way, Mr. Nichols.” Two large men in suits come and escort us to a roped off area with a long, deep blue, carpeted walkway. I then see a banner like the ones from awards shows or events, and it has Piers’ name on it, along with a few other prominent names I recognize and the London Lost logo. It hits me, the scope of how grand this is.
Once behind the safety of the ropes, the guards step back, and we pause on the carpet. He pulls me close to his side, holding one hand while the other wraps possessively around my back and looks at me as the cameras flash, and photographers call for his attention. “This is the gala?” I smile calmly, but on the inside, I’m anything but. “Piers, this is more than a dinner party with masks...this...rhis is, a— a— a red carpet event.”
“Technically, the carpet is blue.” He smiles before turning to address the crowd. I stand at his side like a statue, smiling at strangers through blinding lights, until I feel like my cheeks are going to push my eyeballs right out of their sockets. His hand never leaves mine, his arm holding me close.
He addresses the press, thanks them for coming, talks about the London Lost and answers a few questions. The noise all blends together and becomes a loud buzzing in my ears.
As we start to move, I notice another couple approaching us. A tall gorgeous blond in a black dress with feathers dripping from the bottom, her bodice barely covered by black beads. When she’s close enough for me to see her eyes, my face falls for a split second before I turn my head. Scarlett!
Before I can make my escape, we’re all standing and posing for a photograph. Lovely. I hold my head high and plaster on a smile that I hope doesn’t look too forced. Of course, Scarlett has squeezed in where she’s on the opposite side of Piers. Her talons brush my bare shoulder as she reaches her arm around him to pose. I notice she’s a natural in front of the camera, turning this way and that, laughing and smiling.
“Piers! Great timing; you look dashing.” She nods in my direction. “Willow.”
“Scarlett,” I reply flatly.
“Hello, Scarlett.” Piers takes my hand, and we move through the massive wooden doorway and off the carpet, away from the glare of the lights. “Are you okay?” He searches my face while Scarlett and her date follow closely behind.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” Scarlett asks, stepping around me to a large gilded mirror hanging on the wall and checking her wine colored lipstick, making me suddenly wonder if my own ruby lips are still in place. Oh, God, what if I have lipstick on my teeth?
I would rather die than share a mirror with her. What if we made eye contact and she somehow stole my soul through my reflection or trapped me inside its glassy shards? Enough Willow! I calm the writer in me but tuck away the idea for a story.
“That kind of press is
intimidating for anyone, especially someone not expecting it.” Piers sticks up for me, turning his attention away from where Scarlett fusses in the mirror. “Willow, you remember Theodore Stone?”
Scarlett’s date steps forward, moving his mask aside, and pulls out tortoise shell specs and puts them on. “This might help.”
Studying the curly chocolate hair hanging to his collar and warm brown eyes hidden behind glasses, it hits me. “Teddy!” I wrap my arms around him in a hug, which earns me a growl from Piers. Stepping back, I take a good look at him. He’s just my height and has slimmed down a considerable amount since we were teenagers. “How are you? You look fantastic!” It’s so good to see a familiar face. A friendly one, anyway.
“Hello, Willow. You look lovely.” He smiles bashfully at me. “Yes, it’s me, I go by Theo these days.” He and Piers exchange greetings, and I’m glad to see that they are very much still friends.
“So you and Scarlett?” I blurt out, confused why he would be her date.
“Oh, God no!” Scarlett jumps in, wrapping her arm through his. “He’s much too busy with his books and doing whatever it is that anthropologist’s do to actually talk to women. I needed a date when Piers dropped me last minute to bring you.” Her mouth smiles at me, but her eyes are glaring. “Teddy was kind enough to come along. He was on the list anyway. So it wasn’t entire seating chart nightmare rearranging everything for Piers’ last minute change of heart.”
Piers gives Scarlett a heated look, and taking the hint, she wraps up her little story. “He never brings dates anyway, so I knew he would be available.” I feel terrible for Theo at Scarlett’s harsh assumption. He looks away and fiddles with his mask.
“No need to be rude, Scarlett.” Piers takes my arm and continues walking. “Theo, I owe you a drink, mate.”
We walk further into the venue and down a large, sweeping staircase. “It’s like we’re going underground,” I whisper to Piers, looking at the large ballroom that’s glowing shades of pink and purple, blue and green. Tables are adorned with miniature, flowering trees that house what looks like tiny, floating globes with candles inside. Little fairy wings act as place card holders. It’s incredible. It is like a dream.
Happy Ever Never (Written in the Stars Book 1) Page 13
