61. willow
CHAPTER 61
WILLOW
THE GREENHOUSE
The morning after we returned from Austin, I woke to a knock at my door. My bonnet on the floor, my throat thick with sleep, eyes bleary, you name it, I had it. King and I stayed up later than I thought, and I was discombobulated.
"Huh?" I blinked. "Yeah?"
My mom’s voice came through. "Willow? We need to talk."
That woke me up. What could she want to talk about at…? I checked my phone and checked again. Five in the morning? I wasn’t exhausted, I barely slept.
She sat at the edge of my bed. "This is getting pretty serious?"
I froze. "Uh…what?"
"With the hockey player?"
I snorted. Right, that’s who my mom and everyone else on campus thought I was seeing. The most unserious hockey player on the team. "Nope, not at all."
"Would you tell me if it was?"
The soft way she said that made my heart squeeze. But this was the one thing I could be upfront about.
"Trust me, he’s a good friend. He’s playing up the dates for a girl he likes. I’m helping him out."
"Erm…come downstairs."
I bundled up in a hoodie after that wonderfully cryptic remark and left the garage. Stifling a yawn, I opened the back door and walked through the kitchen…into a greenhouse. I stopped. None of us were exactly chefs and we barely used the kitchen so it always looked incredibly pristine but now…a literal greenhouse.
"Good morning!" Dan boomed and staggered into view with a big vase in his arms. "We’re bringing the garden inside!"
With wide eyes, I stumbled into the living room, taking a sweeping move to stare . Oh my god, they were everywhere . On every available surface, floor included, so many flowers, the floor was covered in petals.
A brisk knock echoed against the door.
Dan started walking towards it, but my mom stopped him. "Uh, no, we did our time, it’s her turn."
My turn?
"Alright, alright." Dan held up his arms in surrender. "I’m brewing coffee."
I pulled open the door to reveal a man with a clipboard.
"Willow Pruitt?"
"Yes?"
"Where do you want them?"
An entire van of new flowers was parked in the driveway and those bouquets were brought in one after another while I stared, mouth agape.
"We have—uh—a little more space on the floor," Dan mused. "I don’t know where else to put them."
I helped out as much as I could, but they were so awkward to carry, the delivery guy easily outpaced me, stacking the rest of them on the ground.
"They have cards." He pointed to one. "They all say the same thing, you’re fine reading one."
I tugged out one of the cards from a vase of roses. There were only four words printed on the card.
Not over. Just beginning.
"Mm-hmm," my mom said. I blushed hard.
"A little…ominous, don’t you think?" Dan asked. "Who sends all this crap?"
The delivery man held out the clipboard for me to sign. "Baby incoming?"
Dan dropped a mug in the sink while my mom shot up from her chair. "A what? "
"No baby," I hurried to say. "He’s being sweet."
"Cheated?"
"Better fucking not," Dan muttered.
"Oh my god." I breathed out through my nose, mortified. " No ."
It was quiet while I scribbled my signature, cheeks hotter and hotter with each page.
My mom took her coffee from Dan. " So ."
"These aren’t from the hockey player."
"I was going to say…" Lawson chuckled. "They get their royalties too, but what royalties? They don’t got flower money."
"When are you going to tell me who they’re from?" My mom crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, I ate all of the mango from one of the edible arrangements but there’s plenty."
Dan’s voice came from the kitchen. "And there's chocolate strawberries. Not just the regular ones. Huh. Eight per box. That seems like quite a bit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Dan, do you want a chocolate-covered strawberry?"
"Well, it’s five in the morning?—"
"Is there just one box?"
"No, there’s a few?—"
"Just take a box."
"Hm."
My mom stretched back. "Take a box, Dan, I can’t imagine she’s going to get through them before they go bad."
"Alright, I’m taking a box."
Dan came back into the living room and took a bite into one. "Damn. This boy’s a weirdo but he can pick out some damn good chocolate strawberries."
"Who is this boy?" my mom pressed.
I pulled a skewer of grapes off one of the arrangements and sat down. "He’s a boy from my comms classes."
"Whose father owns an oil rig?"
"He has…some money."
"And now he has no money." Dan chuckled.
"I don’t want to think about how much he spent on this," I sighed.
My mom took a sip of her coffee. "So he’s a comms major?"
"Yes. And very, very sweet. Sugary sweet." I couldn’t keep down the grin. "He doesn’t like the hockey player."
"Color me surprised." Dan snorted.
The longer I looked at the flowers, the more my face heated. I picked up one of the vases on the table behind me and ran my fingers over the petals.
"Mom, do you have any extra bobby pins?" I asked.
"When do I get to meet him?"
I fidgeted with the flower. "Um…he wants to get to know you."
Which was true, King actually did want to get closer with my parents. Even if my mom had no idea he was already putting that plan in motion, fifty-nine percent done with her book. Because if she found out I liked King, I had no doubt Dan would know in ten minutes.
"You told him about us?"
Dan hesitated. "Does he know about me?"
"Mm. He knows about both of you."
"What did you tell him about me?" my mom asked.
I held up a begonia and clipped it at the end, testing the weight. "I told him you work really hard, you’re a great writer, you’re a sports journalist. You love pasta." I smiled. "What was I supposed to tell him?"
"Tell him I also like flowers."
"Tell him I’d love if he sent less flowers next time," Lawson said before he picked up his coffee. "First day of summer training, it has been eventful."
I gave him a little wave and he kissed my mom on the forehead before he left.
My mom got up to pour herself a new cup of coffee while I twirled a tulip between my fingers. This was the first conversation in forever that felt comfortable between all three of us. My mom was in such a good mood, maybe I could ease in a little more of myself but still make it something we could share.
I cleared my throat. "Hey?"
Austin had been full of live shows and more and more people following me on social media. The comments on my new tracks were really encouraging. My mom didn’t approve of the open mics but that didn’t mean I needed to hide the songs I wrote about her, all about how much she meant to me.
"Yes?"
"So, I…I was kind of thinking of working on an EP…"
"Like music?"
"Yes."
With new speed, my mom slipped into her chair again. "How far along are you with your homework?"
"I’m a month ahead."
"Is that a guaranteed month? Did you ask your professors what else you can do?"
"Mom, I’m fine in classes."
"I want to make sure you have your priorities straight."
"I know."
It was quiet in the living room, and she took another drink from her coffee. "I love you, Willow. You’re my baby. But I don’t want you to go out in the world with the wrong expectations and get disappointed."
Disappointment was already here. I held back the sigh. "I know."
"I don’t want you to get hurt."
"I know."
"You’re not really doing an EP, are you? Or is it like just a song or something?"
I picked up another one of the vases and gave my mom’s shoulder a tight squeeze on my way to the door. "Only a song. I might not even do it. It was just something I was thinking about."
"You might take out the keyboard though," my mom called after me. "I’m sure Dan would love to hear it!"