Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

THIRTY-NINE

It’s nerve-wracking, really.

Today is the 24th of December, which means Nana is long gone, and Liam is expecting Dylan and me to arrive at any moment. But what’s eating away at me is the fact that a couple of days ago, he was adamant to take samples for a DNA test.

Stupid me gave in, of course.How could I refuse?

But I’ve been panicking ever since.

From waking up in the middle of the night because of horrifying nightmares to being startled by a door closing and having a random panic attack. I’ve been a bloody mess.

This means I have to tell him. And I have to do it before that damn letter with the results arrives. He’s been so understanding, so loving, that it pains me. But for the life of me, how the hell do I tell him the truth?

Because of the holidays, when we went earlier in the week, they told us we would only receive the results by Tuesday the 26th. The torture.

“We’re here,” I mumble with my hands still attached to the wheel. Though, the car is already fully parked.

“We’ve been here for five minutes,” Dylan counters, some sassiness in his voice. “I’ve been talking to you, and you don’t answer.”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Will I have presents in his house? Can Santa find me here?”

“You know Santa can find us anywhere,” I answer. “Don’t you want to go?” He nods eagerly, satisfied by knowing Santa is an all-knowing figure.

With that, I get out of the car and round it, opening the passenger door and unbuckling him. When his feet finally settle on the ground, he holds my free hand as I lock the car with the other before we walk together to Liam’s building.

He lives in one of these fancy apartments in the higher part of the city with a beautiful view over the city centre as it lowers down towards the river. The entrance, elevators, and hallways are all squeaky clean in beige and white tones and marble floors.

“Wow,” Dylan mutters, looking around. “The ten floor? Wow!”

I chuckle at the way he says the floor wrong as the elevator doors close in front of us, and starts going up. My insides bubble with nervousness. It doesn’t matter how many times we’re together and he reassures me this is to last, my body is on edge, my nerve endings stand to attention, and the anticipation eats away at me.

Will this feeling ever change? Ease down? Probably, I hope.

Instead of having to walk down the corridor to the apartment number he had told me it was, we’re both surprised by a grinning Liam waiting for us in front of the metal doors.

“You scared me,” I whine, clutching my chest.

“Sorry. After you rang the bell, I just couldn’t wait for you to get up here.” He beams. “Come on!”

His excitement is enough to lift my mood and ease some of my worries—for now. So, we follow him down the corridor to the front door of his apartment before he opens the door and beckons us inside. Dylan jumps right in, looking around him, while I take a few cautious steps inside.

The apartment is modern and slick. It still feels homey with a few things here and there, a few pillows, table centrepieces and a few portraits scattered around the place.

“Wow, this is so cool!” Dylan shouts. “So much better than our house.”

“What are you on about?” Liam asks, tilting his head. “Your house is better, even homier and just a tiny bit more crowded. It’s just what a home should feel like.” He steals a heated glance at me. “I love it there, that’s why besides working and sleeping, I’ve been around more often than not.”

“Thanks, Liam,” I say, blushing. “But, Mister Wow, here, is amazed because this house looks way more expensive than ours.” I glare at him.

But Dylan, the shameless kid he is, just ignores me and keeps inspecting the place.

“I do love your house way more than I like it here,” Liam whispers to me the moment Dylan disappears into the kitchen area. “Give me your bags; let’s put them in the bedrooms.”

When I nod, he yells to Dylan, “Don’t touch anything without one of us by your side.”

To which my kid yells back an “okay.” What even?

The blond man in front of me takes the overnight bags I brought and walks in the opposite direction of the hallway. I follow, taking in the house. When we reach the first door, he opens the door and stays by the entrance, looking at me with a shy expression.

If there is one thing that Liam isn’t, it’s shy. So, I curiously peek in, looking around the room, and I swear my heart jumps right into my throat.

The bed frame, covered with some dark and light blue sheets, a striking contrast to the white walls. On the opposite end, there’s a chest of drawers with a few stuffed animals on top, and right next to it, there are some shelves with children’s books.

I’m speechless. There’s no way this has always been like this. He must’ve changed it after learning about Dylan’s existence.

My eyes burn with unshed tears at the thoughtfulness of this man.

“This used to be my office,” he chimes in, his voice wavering. “Well sort of, but recently, I decided to change it a little in the hope Dylan could spend the night sometimes.” He looks at me sheepishly. “This is where he’ll be sleeping.”

On impulse, I hug him tight, thanking him for this. There are no possible words that could express how grateful I am.

“This space is because I want to spend time with the both of you.” His breath fans over my hair. “You have no idea how much I wanted this to be my first Christmas with my family.”

His family. We’re his family.

I swear my legs buckle from his words alone. This man knows how to rock my world in every possible way.

Oh god, I can’t even deny it any longer. My feelings for him.

“What’s wrong? Was it because I called–”

“No.” My voice comes out weak. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m-”

Suddenly, I can’t speak because Liam cuts me off with his lips. They’re soft and tentative at first, but as soon as I sigh and melt into his embrace, it grows in intensity.

Tongues meet in a delicate dance, and I can’t fight the moan that escapes my lips. That’s enough for a grunt to leave Liam’s throat and for his hands to move from my face to grip the curve of my waist, bringing me impossibly close to him.

Automatically, my arms snake around his neck, my fingers digging into his dark blond locks. His hair is as soft as I remember.

There are so many racing thoughts going through my brain, but I can’t honestly focus on a specific one. Everything comes running back to one person. Him and everything related. We fit together in all the right places, making me feel like this is meant to be.

Like we’re meant to be.

As we both come up for air, Liam doesn’t hesitate to rest his forehead on mine. Our breaths mix as our eyes flutter open. I notice how his pupils are blown out of proportion, and the thought makes a warm fuzzy feeling grow at the bottom of my tummy—the kind I hadn’t felt in years, not since our last time together.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers.

But then, a sudden thought crosses my mind, making me pale. Distancing myself from him quite abruptly but still holding his shoulders, I blurt, “Where will I be sleeping?”

“In my room,” he answers, smiling.

Then he grabs my hand and tugs me to follow him to the next door. It’s the master bedroom with a walk-in closet and a private bathroom. Just like the rest, it’s modern with light colours, mainly white and different shades of grey.

“Oh, no. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch or anything,” I comment, and he laughs.

He comes forward until our bodies meet, but he doesn’t stop there, forcing the both of us to walk this time—him forward and me backwards.

“There’s no way you’ll sleep on my small and uncomfortable couch!” The offended tone in his voice is loud and clear.

“Well, I don’t want you sleeping there either,” I counter.

“I’m sure there’s a very obvious solution,” he taunts in a whisper before bumping his nose against mine.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“There’s a big, comfortable, king-sized bed right next to us, which we could both sleep comfortably in.”

Looking to my right-hand side, I take in the huge bed. When the realisation dawns on me about what he’s suggesting, I gasp and swat his chest.

“What are you insinuating, Liam Davis?”

“Well, it’s just sleeping, we don’t—” He stops himself. “I mean–I wasn’t–I don’t–” He rubs his hand across his face before giving me a guilty look. “I just want to be close to you. Hold you, that’s it. But I–I can sleep on the couch.”

Having him this embarrassed, for once in his life, makes me chuckle and cup his cheeks.

“It’s fine,” I say, caressing his cheek. “Let’s do whatever feels right at that moment,” I whisper.

My statement makes him look at me with hope twinkling in his eyes. “Right.” He nods. “I can work with that,” he says, inching closer and closer. I close my eyes, expecting a kiss.

One that never comes because of a little tornado called Dylan bursts into the bedroom.

“I want to watch The Grinch,” he screeches.

I sigh in frustration, letting my head fall onto Liam’s chest while he laughs.

“Let’s go then, buddy.” Liam swoops Dylan into his arms and pulls me with them towards the living room.

Liam sets up the movie for us, and we watch two Grinch movies before I notice it’s close to dinner. I ask him just to give me a short orientation tour around the kitchen so I can cook dinner, but he refuses right away, getting up from the couch himself and cooking dinner for all three of us while I watch the rest of the movie with Dylan.

He’s snuggling with me by the time Liam calls us to the table. He flashes me a proud smile as soon as we sit down, serving us a traditional Christmas dish here in Portugal—boiled cod. It looks and smells so good, I’m amazed.

He used to be a mess in the kitchen, but I guess living on his own has taught him quite a few tricks. The boy I fell in love with, all of those years ago, has become a man.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still am.

“Mummy, not fish!” Dylan whines, pleading with his eyes.

“Oh, man,” Liam mumbles. “You told me fish was fine!” Panic lacing his voice.

“And it is,” I reassure him. “Don’t be easily manipulated by a six-year-old!” Then I turn to Dylan. “Well, if you want Santa to come and leave your presents while you sleep so you can open them tomorrow morning, you have to eat your fish and vegetables.” I narrow my eyes at him.

He scrunches his face and grumbles something I can’t decipher but nods anyway, waiting for Liam to serve him and for me to take the bones out of the fish for him. He eats in silence with an ever-present scowl, and we just laugh at his attitude.

I can’t even get mad at him.

“I’m done,” he mumbles with a full mouth and a clean plate.

I don’t understand what the hell kids have against vegetables and fish. I love it, personally.

When we’re all done, Liam tells me to get Dylan ready for bed while he puts the dishes in the dishwasher, letting me know he’ll meet us shortly. So, in the extra bedroom Liam owns in this beautiful apartment, I get Dylan into his PJs, then force him to brush his teeth, and once he is finally ready, I settle on the bed next to him, getting ready to read him a Christmas story. That’s exactly when Liam slips into the room.

He sits down next to Dylan, on the opposite side of the single bed, and I start reading with our little boy right in-between us.

Once I finish the story, Dylan looks at me with big puppy eyes and asks, “Mum, tell me my favourite story.”

I blush fervently and glance at Liam before looking back at Dylan.

“Not tonight, baby; it’s getting late.”

“Please,” he begs. “Liam doesn’t know it yet, and I love when you tell me about how these two best friends meet. It reminds me of me and Abby.” His half-smile is enough to melt my heart. Of course, I give in.

I start narrating the story to him—well, them. The story of this young girl that, around Dylan’s age, used to go to the park every day with her mother and older brother.

“They used to play together, but as time went by and her brother started to make more friends, she slowly got left to entertain herself. It’d make her both happy and sad. Happy because it meant her brother had friends and sad because she still had none.”

“Until…” he presses, and I laugh a little.

“Until this bright blue-eyed boy approached her with a small flower in his hand and gave it to her. She stopped the tears that were silently falling down her cheeks and took it without uttering a word to him. She was shy, you know, so she didn’t know what to say. But he did...he told her—”

“You’re too pretty to cry,” Liam interrupts me, completing what I was going to say.

“Exactly.” I gulp, looking sheepishly at his intense eyes.

Have I been subconsciously telling stories about Liam and me? Totally. Have I been doing it consciously, too? Probably.

When Dylan started asking me for happy stories, all I had were our memories. So, I used them.

“And then,” I continue. “The young boy sat down by her side and kept her company for the rest of the afternoon, making her laugh all the time, doing her bidding and mostly just keeping her happy. He kept her happy just by being close, and they became the best of friends.” Dylan sighs in contentment, eyes fluttering while snuggling between us.

“Now, time for bed, baby,” I mutter.

He squirms under the sheets until he finds a comfortable position, and I kiss his forehead. “Good night, baby. Merry Christmas. I love you,” I whisper.

“Goodnight, Mummy. I love you, too,” he whispers back.

I stand up and wait for Liam to say good night, too. He probably remembers that afternoon that we met when we were just shy of six years old. Especially since he remembers exactly what he told me back then.

“Goodnight, buddy.” Liam gently pats his hair before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters, his eyes already closing. “Goodnight, Daddy.”

I freeze as the axis in my world shifts while looking at my unbothered kid, uttering those words as if it was just his normal routine. He just called Liam “Daddy” as if it wasn’t the first time those words came out of his mouth.