Chapter 26
WILLOW
Afew hours go by between my waking up to read the thoughtful note in the kitchen and my decision to stay home and not to go into the office, so I can tell the brothers about the baby.
Emboldened by last night’s intimacy, comforted by their determination to make me feel safe, to make me feel like I belong with them, I feel like it’s my turn to share a secret of my own.
According to Jamie, their father was brought back to Thornwood Manor earlier that day. I decide to surprise them and head up there myself.
“You shouldn’t be out on the road on your own,” Jamie insists.
I’m just about to get behind the wheel of my car when he gingerly pushes me out of the way and motions for me to take the passenger seat.
“Are you serious?” I laugh.
“Hey, I promised Cole I’d look after you when they’re not around. I intend to keep that promise. Now get in.”
“Don’t you have a mood board to complete today? We made all those printouts and color scheme options,” I reply, but I’m already walking around the front of the car to ride shotgun, touched by my best friend’s loyalty and devotion.
He shakes his head. “That can wait. Come on. I’ll stay in the car and take some calls or answer some emails while you talk to them.”
“You’re amazing, Jamie.”
“And don’t I know it.”
The ride to Thornwood Manor is rather quick and uneventful, but my enthusiasm is cut short when I walk into the house, and Ian regretfully informs me that the Morgan brothers aren’t here.
“I thought they’d be the first through the door to see their dad,” I reply, somewhat confused. I briefly check my phone.
“They’ve been notified,” Ian replies. “Would you like to wait for them? I can call them and let them know.”
“Ah, no, don’t call them,” I chuckle lightly. “I’m trying to surprise them. Did you speak to them at all today?”
Ian nods once. “Earlier, yes. They weren’t sure when they’d be able to pop in. They only mentioned that they had some work to do in Hoboken.”
It has to be something personal or perhaps related to Toby’s projects. I know one of his bike shops is in that area.
“You’re welcome to wait for them here, though,” Ian insists with a soft smile.
“I might…”
But I lose that thought quickly when Terrence and Katrina come down the main stairs, looking like something out of a modern rendition of The Great Gatsby.
Katrina glows in a wintry sequined cocktail dress, while Terrence looks sharp in his dark grey suit, both casting different sets of smiles at me.
“Ah, look what the cat dragged in,” Terrence quips.
“On second thought, Ian, I think I’ll head over to Toby’s bike shop. I’m pretty sure I’ll find them there,” I mutter and give Ian a curt nod before I head for the door.
The last thing I need is an interaction with the most miserable couple on earth.
No amount of sequin or glitter or Italian leather can mask their unhappiness.
It’s written all over their faces, whether they wish to admit it or not, and I’m too happy with what I’m about to do to let them ruin my day.
“So we’re not on speaking terms anymore,” Terrence laughs.
“Leave her, honey,” Katrina replies. “She’s probably busy running around with her business and whatnot.”
“Willow? Running? Hah, that’s rich.”
And there it is. The one aggression that stops me in my tracks, just as I was about to head out the door. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, maybe it’s the fact that I no longer can stand Terrence, not even a little bit. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make me spin on my heels to face the couple.
“Say that again, Terrence,” I challenge him.
“Say what?”
He seems surprised, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do next. He wasn’t expecting a rebuttal. I guess he thought he was going to laugh some more while I walked out the door.
“What you just said, you coward. Say it again, but to my face and not hiding behind your wife’s skirt,” I reply bluntly.
Katrina frowns. She looks like she’s about to say something, but my glare advises her to stay out of it. To my relief, she chooses silence and takes a step back while Terrence steps closer, cocky and self-assured as ever.
“You’re not the running type. What’s wrong with that?” he says.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s something wrong with the way you said it,” I shoot back. “And I think it’s time we had a chat on this topic.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not excused. Here’s the thing, Terrence. I get you now; I really do. You like plump girls like me, you do. More than you care to admit. That’s why you were drawn to me, why you proposed to me, why you wasted a year of my life with what turned out to be empty promises.
“Because you knew your mother would never let you marry me. And you’re mommy’s good little boy. You’ll marry whoever she tells you to marry, a pretty New York debutante.” I pause and give Katrina an appreciative smile. “Case in point.”
“You sound bitter,” Terrence sneers.
I laugh from the bottom of my belly. “Oh, I love that you mistake bitterness for absolute relief. I am thankful for the way things turned out. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re the miserable and bitter one, not me, because deep down, I really am the woman you wanted to marry.
“So what do you do to soothe your misery?” I add, a grin slitting my face as I watch his silent rage unfurl beneath the surface.
“You try to take it out on me. You try to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you, when you know you were the one who wasn’t good enough for me.
You’ll never be good enough for me because you’re not a man, Terrence. You’re Mommy’s good little puppet.
“Don’t think for a second that your words hurt me. I don’t give a rat’s ass, but I had to let you know. I had to do you this one solid favor because you clearly need to hear the truth for once.”
“I married the perfect woman,” he says, absolutely seething.
I can tell from Katrina’s disappointment that she doesn’t believe him. It’s okay. He doesn’t believe himself either. It’s obvious from his high-pitched tone.
“Then why are you still trying so hard to hurt me?”
“Because you got it into your head that you’re something special. You think you’re something else now that my brothers are passing you around, and you don’t even realize it’s not a privilege to be a Morgan whore—”
My fist flies out before my brain can process the movement. Terrence doesn’t see it coming. I get him right in the nose, and blood gushes out.
Katrina lets out a scream, then rushes to his side. Reluctantly, Ian produces a handkerchief and hands it to Katrina, so she can use it to stem the blood flow.
“Oh, my God!” she croaks. “Willow, are you insane?”
“No, I’m just tired of his bullshit,” I say, though I’m shaking like a leaf. I can’t believe I just did that. However, I show no sign of regret. My only option is to double down and point a warning finger at a traumatized Terrence.
“Let that be a lesson to you, Terrence. The next time you try to put me down or address me in any way that isn’t considered polite or respectful, I will break your nose again. And then your stepbrothers will break every other bone in your body, too, for good measure.”
“You crazy bitch!” he snarls, on the verge of tears.
At the same time, Ian stifles a laugh. “Shall I call you an ambulance, Mr. Madison?”
“No!”
“And by the way,” I add with a dry chuckle. “I hope you noticed the irony of calling me a Morgan whore, considering your own mother’s history with this family.”
I leave them all behind, eerily satisfied with my reaction. Perhaps violence wasn’t the best answer, but damn, it felt good. It felt liberating. It was as if I was released from all the anger and the pain that Terrence caused me when he dumped me.
“What happened in there?” Jamie asks as I get back in the car.
“Drive; I’ll tell you all about it,” I say with a sly grin.
Jamie is still laughing as we pull up outside Toby’s bike shop in northern Hoboken. It’s closed, though. The main door is shuttered, the office door is locked, and the lights are off inside.
It’s just a little after noon.
“Maybe they’re on a lunch break?” I mutter, turning around to look at Jamie.
He’s out of the car, joining me by the office door with a frown of his own. “Maybe we should just call them.”
The prospect sort of disappoints me. I was angling for a grand gesture, to surprise them, and then, the big reveal.
I’d brace myself. I’d hold my breath for a moment, but know that they’re in this with me, all the way through to the end.
I felt it for sure last night: the commitment, the desire to be a part of my life.
Jamie notices my hesitation, his lips curling up into a cute smile. “I get it,” he says. “It’s your way of flipping the script, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
To our left, there’s a narrow gangway leading to the back of the building. I can’t see much from where we’re standing, just the large dumpsters and deep shadows. Suddenly, a movement catches my eye.
“You’re trying to take back control of the situation,” Jamie says, though I keep staring at the end of the gangway, waiting to see movement again. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“You had no control over the pregnancy happening. You’re terrified of the change it’ll bring with it, so you owning it like this, you going up to the guys to tell them about it, it’s your way of keeping control over the situation.”
“You read me like an open book,” I mutter.
“I know you well, always the independent warrior woman,” he chuckles softly, then pauses. “What are you looking at?”
“Someone’s over there,” I reply.
He follows my gaze, not entirely convinced. “That’s the back of the shop, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“They have a loading dock back there most likely. It’s where they receive all the big parts and whatever supplies they need to build Toby’s badass and ridiculously expensive bikes,” Jamie says. “Maybe someone’s unloading stuff.”
“They might be able to tell us when Toby’s coming back, at least,” I reply. “If I get him, he can get Cole and Asher over, too.”
“Worth a shot.”
Jamie follows me into the alleyway. The deeper we go, however, the more unsettled I am, though for no apparent reason. It’s just darker here than out in the street. It’s the middle of the day, yet my instincts keep flaring, my temples throbbing with a sense of foreboding.
With a tight stomach, I reach the end.
A black SUV is waiting, the engine rumbling softly, but I don’t see the driver anywhere. The loading dock is shut and locked down, too. Jamie’s yelp of pain, followed by a sudden thud, scares me, and I jump and turn around.
“Jamie!” I cry out.
My best friend is on the ground, bleeding from the back of his head and moaning as he struggles to stay conscious. Standing above him and with a gun pointed at my head is Brett Harvey.
“You,” I whisper, dread taking over with an icy, sharp grip.
I recognize him from the police photos and from the few glimpses I got at Terrence and Katrina’s wedding. Only now, I am able to connect the last few dots, to remember the moments before Jamie collapsed from the poison. Again, Jamie takes the brunt of violence meant for me.
“Shut up. Don’t make a sound,” Brett says.
He aims the gun at my face. My blood thickens. My stomach shrinks to the size of a pea, tight and painful as hell as sweat trickles down my neck. I’m shaking, unable to move without my knees caving in. All I can think of is my unborn child.