Chapter 52 Noah
fifty-two
Noah
During the night, I stir briefly when the clock strikes midnight, pulling Willow’s naked body close to mine. She slides her cold feet between my calves, lets out a contented sigh, and sinks deeper in her sleep.
I’m so proud of my wife.
I had to tame my inner caveman at dinner. He just wanted to throw Gail out of Lilyvale, make her feel sorry for hurting Willow. But who was I to deny my wife her moment?
She was simply spectacular. She used to be ashamed of her mother’s past—but not anymore.
At first I was hurting for her. So. Damn. Much. To be insulted in her own house? In front of her own family?
But she awed me, as she always does. As she always has. She stood proud and strong. As she should. And even if no one said anything while she dressed Gail down, she had her whole family’s support. You could feel it around the table, the circle of energy, of love.
She truly has become Lilyvale’s main… human.
When Marcy and Ms. Angela took care of lightening the moment while embarrassing Gail, showing her true colors without being openly mean, I was this close to clapping.
It was the stuff of family legends, stories we’ll recount through the decades after the children are in bed, just to relive the moment.
Children. I’m thinking about children with Willow.
She stirs in my arms. “Try and get some sleep,” she murmurs. “Everything’ll be alright.”
I caress her hair off her forehead. Her eyelids flutter, the shadow of a smile plays on her lips, then she’s lost in sleep again.
She thinks I’m worried about tomorrow, but I’m not.
I’m not that man anymore. Everything I told her during our walk is true. Although I do care about Lilyvale, about the store, about all that the Callaways have been passing down generations, only the people I love are truly important to me. It may sound obvious, but I’d lost sight of that.
And tonight, with the exception of Gail, they were all around the family table. My wife, my siblings, and the unexpected and colorful addition of Aunt Angela and Marcy.
A loud noise coming from upstairs pulls me from my sleepy thoughts.
Then there’s a sharp cry.
I tense. Is this what I think it is? Should I check or—
Willow’s arm tightens around my chest. “Wait,” she whispers.
“Did you hear that?” I grunt.
“Sshh. Yes.”
Another loud bang, followed by a longer cry. Willow grabs her phone.
My phone dings. “What are you doing?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.
My phone dings again.
Another bang, another cry, then an agonizingly long silence.
Another ding.
Willow’s face is lit by her phone screen, and she starts shaking with silent laughter.
I lean over to read from her screen.
Me to Family:
Beck?
Beck:
On it. Giving Elsbeth a little time.
Griff:
She deserves her fun.
Lane:
Lets hope G doesn’t have a heart condition
Me:
Or let’s hope she does?
Beck:
Man, that was loud.
Griff:
Someone should go.
Beck:
I said I would. Putting underwear on.
Lane:
Eww. TMI
I rub my eyes. Only here.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I can’t let this place go and be reduced to a pile of bricks. Because where would they go? This place is not just a house.
I dismissed them as the freaky part of our family, and Willow unknowingly showed me the way back to them. “Did I tell you how proud of you I am?”
She snaps her head up at me. “Ssshhh,” she says, her eyes all soft on me, her mouth going in for a kiss.
The sound of voices coming from upstairs distracts her.
She perks up, gets out of bed, and tiptoes to the door, stepping over the nightie she wore for less than two minutes last night.
Cracking the door open, she tilts slightly forward, her naked body glowing in the semi darkness.
I put my arms behind my head to admire her as she tugs a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks over her shoulder at me, a big smile on her face.
“It was just a nightmare,” Beck’s voice sounds in the hallway.
“I don’t think so,” Gail’s shaky voice answers.
“There was no one there, I promise.”
“I’m not stupid, Beck,” Gail snaps back right as they pass our bedroom. “I saw you standing there in your underwear—”
“Swimsuit.”
“Whatever. I saw you, just like I saw her, up in a corner, with a rope around her neck, and that fucking smile.”
“That’s just not possible, you know,” Beck answers.
“It’s not funny!” she hisses. “How can you be laughing at me for-for-for seeing a-a-a…”
“A ghost?” he suggests, laughter in his voice. “Come on,” he adds, “you’re just confused. Let’s get you a cup of hot milk and honey.”
Willow snorts and gets back in bed with me. “Beck going all soft on Gail.” She snuggles on my chest, stroking my shoulder.
A ruckus of loud barking and sharp yaps echo through the mansion. “I guess they made it to the kitchen,” Willow whispers.
“What do you have planned there?”
She lifts herself off my chest, looking at me with mock offense. “I didn’t plan anything. I just… let the household know what was at stake. Dogs are very perceptive, you know.”
“Get them off me!” Gail shrieks.
Beck’s voice rumbles in the distance.
“Is that poo?”
“Jesus, woman,” Willow mumbles, trying to get back to sleep. “Get a grip.”
“Ah shit!” Beck yells right as Gail shrieks again.
I muffle my laughter in Willow’s neck. “What do you think is happening?”
“Pretty sure Edward encountered dog poop.”
“I thought Zach wrote code for them to avoid it.” He actually said picking up poop was below a robot’s paygrade.
“Stop!!” Beck bellows. “How do you stop that fucking thing?!”
“Sounds like Edward decided it was time for—”
“—shit to hit the fan,” Willow continues.
“Sounds like it.” With a deep sigh, I pull Willow closer to me, laughing softly at what my brother is dealing with in the kitchen. For a while we hear angry voices, doors being slammed, rummaging in the kitchen that I hope is the sound of Beck cleaning up.
I fall asleep holding my wife close to me, not worried about what tomorrow will bring.
The next morning, Willow and I get up early. We find Griff sitting on the floor of a clean kitchen, cuddling a puppy. “I let them out,” he says. “They’re pretty well trained. Did their business and came right back in, but they’re whiny."
“They’re just hungry,” Willow says as she pulls out their bowls and I get their kibble.
While we take care of feeding the dogs, Griff makes coffee. “What’s this one’s name?” he asks.
“That’s Maple,” Willow answers. “He’s our little troublemaker. I’m surprised he let you hold him.”
“So, are you keeping them?” Griff asks.
“No! No-no-no.”
“But aren’t they getting a bit… big?”
“They’re still young,” Willow declares. “We’re not sure about Muffin and Maple yet. There’s no rush.”
Griff raises his eyebrows and glances at me. I shrug back. If Willow wants to keep the dogs, we’ll keep the dogs.
“Myrtle over there will move to Chris’s at some point. Skye pretty much claimed her right away,” Willow adds.
“Skye… that’s Chris’s daughter, right?” Griff says.
“That’s right. His fiancée, Alex, adopted her, and they had a baby last spring. Ivy.”
Griff has missed so much since he moved away.
I’m a little sad for him about it, but if that’s what he wants for his life, who am I to judge?
I used to resent him, be angry even. I’m past that.
It’s time I rebuild our connection. Time I stop acting like the older sibling slash substitute parent.
We’re all too old for this shit. I’ve kept it going for too long, and all it’s done was create a wedge between us.
The front door slams shut, the whole mansion shaking. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your lovely stepmother chose to have breakfast elsewhere,” Willow says.
Good riddance. My stomach suddenly growls, and I realize I barely ate last night. I open the fridge. “Who wants scrambled eggs?”
Just then, the kitchen door opens and Lane pads in.
“I’ll have some, thank you. Hey, I just saw Gail from my bedroom window, hauling her suitcase to her car.
Mission accomplished?” She crouches and pets Myrtle.
“Come here, you. I bet she scared you last night. Awwww.” With a sigh, she adds, “They grew too fast. I can hardly carry them now.” Myrtle plops on her back with a goofy grin, and Lane gives her a belly rub.
With a grunt, Calla stands up and goes to sit on Willow’s feet.
“We should repurpose the puppy carriage for Calla to pull the babies around town,” Willow says.
“What babies?” Griff asks.
“Alex’s,” I say quickly.
“And mine,” Lane says.
Griff frowns. “You… you’re expecting?”
Right then, Beck barges into the kitchen, hair a mess, shirt open on his bare chest.
Lane turns her attention back on Myrtle. “I was waiting for the right time to tell you.”
Griff looks at Willow and me in turn, and we just shrug and smile.
Beck gives Griff a healthy back slap. “Isn’t that cool? We’re gonna be uncles.”
Griff’s mouth hangs open for a beat, then he goes to sit cross-legged next to Lane. “That’s… that’s awesome, Lanie. How long have you known?”
Ah. There’s that hint of jealousy, and I get it. I totally do. But he chose to leave. He didn’t have to. Yet, as in the past where I’d feel a mix of anger and frustration, today all I feel is empathy for my brother.
Something Beck said a while back plays in my head, about the reason why Griff may have left. Something about it being my fault, more or less. I’ll need to address that just between the two of us, before Griff leaves.
Loud screeches sound outside. Calla jumps and barks, a rare occurrence for her. Her hair is standing on her back, her teeth are bared.
“Easy, sweetie. It’s only Gail,” Willow coos, petting Calla.
I rub my face. “Let me check what’s going on,” I say.
I step out into the chilly morning, pulling the door shut behind me. Gail is kicking a red Mercedes coupe, her luggage at her feet. Did she lose her key?
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She turns a lethal gaze at me. “Does it look okay to you?”
I close the distance between us. “Need a hand loading the car?” At this point I’m not asking why she’s leaving.
She points the fob at the car and clicks it repeatedly, but nothing happens. “Who did this?” She’s seething, gaze pointed at the car.
“Your fob battery is dead. There should be a manual key lodged inside it.”
“I’m talking about that,” she spits, chin pointing to the car itself.
I take a closer look, my mouth gaping. Through the tinted windows, it’s not hard to tell the seats are mounted…
facing the back. Like an automotive version of The Exorcist. “Uh…” Could Beck have done this?
Nah. Kids in town? Hard to pull off. “You locked your car last night?” We don’t usually lock anything around here.
“Really? That’s your question?”
“Yeah, that’s my question, lady.” I pull my phone out. “Colt? Any chance you could tow a car from down here and do some… inside rearranging at your place?” He starts telling me about his whole schedule. “It’s an emergency,” I interrupt him. Turning away from Gail, I mutter, “a mental emergency.”
Ten minutes later, Colton pulls up, backing his flatbed to Gail’s car.
He nods at the both of us, then hooks Gail’s car and wrenches it up.
Gail is shivering, so I haul her suitcase inside the cabin while she takes the passenger seat.
After the car is secured, Colton peaks inside it.
With a small smile, he slaps me on the back.
“Wicked shit.” In a lower tone, he adds, “you’ll have to tell me how you pulled it off. ”
I start protesting, but he cuts me off. “Yeah, right.” He laughs and glances in Gail’s direction. “See you later.”
“You alright?” Willow asks me when we’re back in our bedroom, getting ready for the day. The meeting isn’t until tonight, and we’ll both be heading to the store as usual. “Worried about the meeting?”
“It’s Griff. I wish I could get across to him. Know what he’s thinking.”
“He showed up when the family needed him. That’s huge, right?” She places her hand on my chest, in the way that made me lose my composure in the beginning and now makes me feel invincible.
I skim her lips with mine. Running a hand down her back, I bunch up the fabric of her dress and reach between her legs.
“Baaabe,” she whines.
“Mmm?” I wrap her tighter as our kiss deepens, our mouths seeming to meld to each other. “Remember how I feel about begging now.” With Gail definitely out of here, we have a minute or sixty before the day starts.
“Please,” she whispers in my neck, raking her nails against my back.
“Yo! You guys in there?” Griff’s voice sounds outside our door.
“Great timing,” I mutter for Willow’s benefit.
“I love you too,” Willow whispers in my ear, her hand still on my chest as if she’s cradling my heart.
The room spins around me, the world stops turning, and my dick maintains it’s go time. I get lost in Willow’s big brown eyes, going down for another kiss.
“I think they left,” Griff says as his footsteps recede down the hallway.
“How is it that this thing you do with your hand on my chest turned me on even when we were faking it?” I whisper, kissing her forehead.
Willow’s eyes widen. “It’s never been fake for me.”
She says it under her breath, like a confession, an admission of guilt. And maybe it is, to her. I can see that.
Slowly, the implications of what she’s saying become clearer.
Holy fuck.
Willow married me for real when I was just… using her. Respectfully so, but still using her. Every time I’d jokingly suggest a reason for our future divorce and she brushed it off? That was why.
Her strangled “yes” at the river when I proposed with a stupid shoe? The way her voice betrayed her emotions? The beating inside her ribcage when she threw herself at me?
This was not a crush that had turned into something more.
This was everything, and again I hadn’t seen it.
Pulling my wife close to me, I bury her face in my chest so she doesn’t see the tears threatening to spill from my soul. For years she’s loved me, and I didn’t know. She married me out of love, and I didn’t know.
She says it was a crush, but it wasn’t.
It was love, and it was given to me without hope, yet without restraint.
Now I understand why she turned me down at first. And why she changed her mind, and how much that must have cost her. And I’ve seen her with me: honest, brave, kind. Not trying to be more to me than what we had agreed upon.
She made the sacrifice of her heart to help me.
This woman is so much more than I deserve. I’d give up everything to keep her mine.