Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
E VEN THOUGH SHE KNEW her parents were several hours drive away, when a thumping sounded at Willow’s door a half hour after the call from Meredith, she fully expected it to be her irate stepmother or father. Or both.
She didn’t stop to look through the glass before pulling the door inwards, and then wished she had, when Francesco stood on the step, looking at her with the same mask of fury he’d worn the last time they’d seen each other.
She wasn’t prepared for this.
She needed time and warning before seeing him again. She needed time to gather her defenses and be able to look at him without feeling as though she were in freefall. But given the lack of notice, she was completely knocked for six.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, forgetting they were friends and instead focusing on the fact that this man had broken her heart. He hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t change the facts. “I thought we were having a clean break?”
He just glared at her, like she’d said something hideously insulting.
“What are you doing here?” she repeated, but louder, and the last thing she expected was for him to sweep past her, into her hallway, pushing the door shut in his wake.
“Come in,” she muttered sarcastically, as she leaned against the door. He spun around to face her, his chest moving now with the force of his breathing.
“I told myself I wouldn’t come here.”
“You didn’t listen to yourself, evidently.” She had no idea how she was managing to sound so normal when her insides were sparking like crazy.
“Just…don’t say anything,” he said, holding a hand up to silence her, which incensed Willow even more than his presence alone had.
“What the actual fuck? Are you seriously coming to my house and telling me not to talk?”
He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he drew in then pushed out a deep breath.
“Are you seeing him again?”
Willow felt the world shift beneath her. She hadn’t even thought that Francesco might have seen the photos.
“You told me it was over.”
“It was over,” she said, and when Francesco opened his eyes and looked at her, she felt a wall of feelings ram against her.
“But now?”
She hesitated. For some reason, she felt like she needed to keep some kind of protective cloak in place, and maybe Tom was that? But she couldn’t lie to Francesco. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” he said, after a long, stretched pause. “But I do.”
Something like hope burst in her heart but she forced herself to ignore it. To wall it off.
She knew Francesco well enough to know that being jealous wasn’t the same thing as being ready to put aside your inner wounds and move on with your life. And ironically, it was thanks to Francesco that she really knew she’d never settle for less than total commitment. At one time, she’d thought maybe just taking the breadcrumbs he offered would be enough, but she knew better now.
She opened the door and held it wide, looking at him pointedly. “Well, thanks for sharing. Is that all?”
His expression tightened. “I’ll go,” he said, lifting a hand placatingly now. “Just tell me if you’re involved with him. Though I don’t know why I’m even asking, the pictures made it pretty clear.”
“You should know better than anyone that just because two people look like a couple, it doesn’t mean they are.”
He moved closer, eyes probing hers. “What does that mean?”
Her heart throttled in her throat. “I don’t know why I’m even answering this,” she sniffed. “You hardly deserve an explanation.”
“Please, Willow.”
It was the ‘please’ that did it. She felt all the fight leave her body and almost had to slump against the door. “We were giving each other’s stuff back. It was a goodbye, Francesco, nothing more.”
He stared at her, his jaw clenched, body taut, and nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”
“Okay,” she repeated, nodding, her throat stinging suddenly. She blinked quickly. “Can you go, now?”
“Do you want me to go?”
This was so cruel. She dug her fingernails into her palm, staring at him for a long beat. “I think you need to.” Because otherwise, she might do something stupid and beg him to stay. Not just for today, but longer. Forever?
“Please,” she whispered, holding the door even wider.
He looked beyond it, onto the street, like it was a portal through which he was reluctant to travel, but then, he walked towards it, pausing as he passed to glance down at her, then walking outside.
Willow expelled a long sigh as she closed it and leaned against it for the physical support she’d badly needed.
Which meant she startled when a minute later, he thumped against the wood of the door.
She hesitated to open it this time, because her heart was hurting and she had no idea what to say. But slowly, she pulled the door inwards, not sure she’d be able to stave off her tears much longer.
“What?” she whispered.
“The thing is, I don’t want to go,” he said, frowning, as though he was lost in thought. “I want to stay here, with you.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “We can’t keep sleeping together. It’s not…easy, like I thought it would be.”
“No,” he agreed, in that same, slow, pensive way. “It’s not easy.”
Her heart ricocheted in her chest.
“What does it mean that I can’t stop thinking about you?” he asked, staying right where he was, with no idea how his words were affecting her.
“What does it mean that I miss you like a limb?”
She sucked in a sharp breath of surprise.
“What does it mean that I keep replaying every moment of those two incredible weekends and wondering what I could have done differently, to stop you from getting this hold on me?”
“What hold on you?”
“I don’t want to feel this,” he said, with a hint of impatience and irritation in the tone of his voice. “I want everything to go back to how it used to be.”
“Okay,” she said, unsure of what he meant and wanted. For a brief moment, she’d thought maybe he was confessing some actual feelings for her, but then this?
“And at the same time,” he said, frowning deeper. “The thought of going months without seeing you feels like a death sentence. How can I live like that again?”
Her heart tripped. “What do you want?”
“Not to feel like this.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then leave. The longer we go without seeing each other, the better.”
“And then what? You hook up with some other guy, who realizes how special you are, how incredibly, uniquely wonderful, and isn’t shit scared of ruining it, or of being ruined by how he feels for you, so he actually gives you the one thing you need?”
She could hardly breathe now. It was all too much—all too real. Too honest. Too insightful.
“So, you’re scared to be with me because you think what? That we’ll break up and you’ll turn into your dad?”
“Stranger things have happened. You should see my brother right now.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Marcia, and you’re not him, and nothing is written in the stars. You and I get to choose how we live, and how we act. So, you can choose to be with me, or you can play it safe and walk away.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that if I choose you, you’d be okay with that?”
She realized what she’d all but admitted and flushed to the roots of her hair. “Seriously, Francesco? Do you need me to say it first? Do you need me to admit I love you, before you’ll work out if you can say it back? Are you really going to make me be the one to go out on that limb?”
He closed his eyes, his face pale beneath his tan, so she immediately regretted her outburst. But then, he opened his eyes, and smiled, shaking his head slowly as he moved towards her and gripped her face in his hands.
“The thing is, I arrived here thinking that you loving me was the last thing I wanted. Then you said the words, and Cristo , if I’m not the happiest guy on earth right now.”
She stared up at him, her heart getting whiplash from the way it had been pulled in different directions.
“What does that mean?” he asked, but this time, his lips were pulling with a slight smile, so her heart shifted in the right direction—towards his.
“You’re still not going to say it?”
“Oh, I’m going to say it,” he promised, moving his hands so he could lift her over his shoulder, and stepping into her hallway, kicking the door shut behind him. “But, first? I’m going to show you.”
And he did. In her bedroom, they made love until Willow’s whole body was trembling with desire and she was almost floating with pleasure, and then, he stared into her eyes and said, “I do love you, Willow. I think I’ve always loved you. It took the realization that I might have actually lost you to Tom, that I might have lost you for good, for me to finally get my head around why I can’t let that happen. You are everything to me, baby.”
She closed her eyes on the way that made her feel, her insides all squirmy and warm.
“I have no idea how to do this,” he said, holding her against his chest. “So, I’m not promising I won’t stuff up, that I won’t get it wrong sometimes, but I am promising I will always love you. And that love will not destroy me, and it will not destroy you. Whatever happens in this life, loving each other will always make us strong.”
“Loving each other,” she added, softly, with tears in her eyes. “Will always be the best thing we ever did. And I don’t intend to stop, ever.”
“Well, that makes me feel pretty relieved.”
“Now, kiss me again, Francesco. We’ve got some lost time to make up for…”
The next weekend, Willow went home with Francesco. She had the aching knowledge that she wasn’t welcome at her own family home, and yet she felt more welcomed and loved than she had in her life at the Santoro’s, and that was more than fair compensation.
This time, there was no pretending, no guilt over lying to his nearest and dearest. They were able to lose themselves in the newness of their love, to celebrate what they’d found, and by the end of the holidays, they knew what was patently obvious to everyone else: this was the kind of love that played for keeps.
Returning to London from Italy, they didn’t really even discuss moving in together. It just happened organically. One night turned into ten, turned into a month, and by the time Willow’s birthday rolled around in March, she hadn’t been back to her place for weeks on end. So when her twin sisters asked if she could help them find somewhere to live in London, it was the easiest thing in the world for Willow to extend the offer of her home. Francesco helped them move in, and the four of them ate dinner that night.
It was strange for Willow to realise that away from the oppressive Meredith, she actually really enjoyed the twins’ company. They were totally different people when not under her watchful gaze.
Over time, her relationship with Meredith thawed. It was, however, the one downside to Willow’s engagement announcement—knowing how happy she’d made her superficial, social climbing stepmother. The good, however, far outweighed the bad, and when she and Francesco married, at the end of the summer, Willow had the most calming feeling that everything was just settling into place for her, exactly as it was meant to be.
She’d found her happily ever after, and she never intended to let it go.
THE END
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