19. My Fiancé & I Made the News
MY FIANCé & I MADE THE NEWS
WILLOW
I grab a pillow and smother my head with it, trying to block out the knocking on my door.
“Mom, five more minutes,” I groan, my voice muffled by the fabric. Sleep and I were not on speaking terms last night, and I only managed to crash sometime around dawn.
“Willow.”
It takes me a second to realize the voice isn’t my mom’s. It’s deep, smooth, and entirely too close. My foggy brain connects the dots in a flash—the man responsible for my insomnia is standing right above me, his knock landing a little too close for comfort on the nightstand.
“If it wasn’t urgent, Firefly, I swear, I wouldn’t have dared to wake you,” he says softly, and his words hit every nerve I didn’t know I had.
For a moment, I debate pretending to stay asleep. What would Raymond say if he thought I wasn’t listening? But that stupidly curious part of my brain gets slapped and shut down by the sensible part.
Raymond Teager has owned my subconscious since I moved in, and last night, my dreams were a rom-com montage from hell. Him whispering that this was forever, sliding that ridiculously perfect ring—which is currently sitting safely in my nightstand—onto my finger while fireworks burst in the sky.
Damn Nori. And double damn to my overactive imagination.
Like the sensible adult I should be, I sit up, groggy but upright. “Is everything okay? Quill?” My eyes dart around, half expecting to find her, but it’s just us.
“Quill’s fine. It’s still early.”
And yet, the man is already dressed for the day, looking like he walked out of GQ . Meanwhile, I must look like an electrocuted Garfield impersonation, my red hair a tangled disaster worthy of its own weather warning. I grab a scrunchie and pull it into some semblance of order, then glance down at myself.
My faded maroon T-shirt is so old the label is practically a memory, and the rest of me hidden under a thin blanket isn’t doing much for my dignity. Not that I care about impressing him. I absolutely don’t. But it’d be nice to not look like a hobo while he struts around his house like he’s hosting a Vogue photoshoot.
“Here.” Raymond holds out a cup of coffee I hadn’t even noticed before. “Oat milk and coconut sugar, just how you like it.”
Wait. Raymond knows how I take my coffee?
My pulse skyrockets like it’s trying to set a new record. This can’t be real. This has to be one of those hyper realistic dreams where I wake up in a panic. I squeeze my eyes shut, count to three, and open them again. But he’s still standing there, holding out the cup like it’s no big deal. And suddenly, it hits me.
Is he doing this because he’s my fiancé now? Holy crap.
Snap out of it, Willow.
He’s your fake fiancé. FAKE.
Except…Nori’s words from last night hit me like a gong in a quiet church. This is forever.
Forever. Forever.
Oh, for the love of caffeine. Shut up, brain.
“Okay, this isn’t great for my ego,” Raymond says, drawing my attention back to him. His eyes flick to my death grip on the blanket, my knuckles white like it’s a lifeline. “I didn’t realize seeing my face first thing in the morning would be this stressful.”
If only he knew the truth—that seeing his ridiculously handsome face first thing in the morning is short-circuiting my brain. But of course, I can’t admit that.
“I think your ego’s just fine,” I mutter, finally accepting the coffee because I’m sure wasting it would be a crime punishable by death somewhere in the world.
While I try to calm my heartbeat, Raymond casually grabs the stool from the vanity and sits down, as if this is totally normal. But it’s not. This whole scene—him in my room, bringing me coffee, sitting close enough to count freckles—is dangerously intimate. And my poor, unsuspecting heart is so not prepared for this.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended, like I’m accusing him of trespassing in his own damn house.
His lips curl into that signature tilt, the one that used to drive me insane. Except now I know it’s just his natural smile. And damn if it doesn’t make my heart trip over itself. Then, instead of addressing my very valid question, he asks, “How’s the coffee?”
“Did you make it?” My voice comes out higher than I’d like.
If he says yes, I might actually cry. Sweet, considerate Raymond is not something I’m prepared to deal with before nine a.m.
“Relax,” he replies, shaking his head slowly. “I had the house staff make it. But my mom always said it’s good to start the day with something sweet.” His expression darkens slightly. “And the news I’m about to share is definitely not sweet.”
I take a big gulp of the coffee, bracing myself. “Hit me. I’m ready.”
His brows lift in surprise. “I’ve never seen anyone so eager to hear bad news.”
What he doesn’t know is that I’d rather face whatever bomb he’s about to drop than deal with the stampede of butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach right now.
Raymond sets his iPad on my lap, his hand brushing the blanket over my thigh just enough to scatter my thoughts like leaves in a windstorm. I’m too distracted to process what’s happening until he points to the screen.
Oh my God!
My stomach lurches, and the coffee I barely sipped gurgles ominously. I’m about to bolt upright when Raymond calmly takes the cup from my hand before I spill the contents all over myself and his precious tech.
“W-what is this?” My voice wobbles as I stare at the tabloid headline in obnoxious bold letters—CHERRYWOOD’S NEWEST LIAISON—plastered across a photoshopped monstrosity of me and Raymond.
It’s not even a good photo! I’m squinting into the sun with my forehead and nose all scrunched up and one hand shielding my face. Meanwhile, Raymond looks like a damn cover model. We look so unmatched, so imperfect.
“Rowan is working on getting the article pulled,” Raymond says, his lips flattening into a hard line. “But I can’t say who on your side might’ve seen it.”
Panic sets in as I grab my phone.
Forty-six texts. Fifty-seven calls.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“How did this even happen?” My voice wobbles as I scroll through the chaos.
“There was a town banquet last night. Plenty of our shareholders were there. Apparently, discretion wasn’t on the menu.” Raymond exhales, that beautiful jaw tightening a bit, while I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’m on a newspaper for every-freaking-one to see.
“How bad is it?” His brow arches as he gestures toward my phone.
“Horrible,” I mutter, which feels like an understatement. I have texts from Nana, Mom, my friends, the staff at Whispering Willow, and even my ex-investor, Joanne.
I scroll straight to Violet’s message, the safest territory.
Violet: I thought this engagement thing was a big secret! If you’d have told me you were going to be on the local news, I could’ve picked a better picture.
Before I can muster the courage to dive into the rest of the messages, my phone buzzes. Nana’s name flashes across the screen, and the device slips from my grasp and lands in my lap with a thud.
“It’s my nana,” I croak, staring at the screen like it might explode. “She’s gonna kill me.”
Raymond quirks a brow, amusement softening his sharp features for a beat. “I didn’t peg you for the dramatic type.”
“You have no idea what she’s capable of,” I snap, getting out of bed. “Your house isn’t exactly off-limits to her. Maybe I’ll…leave town. Just for a bit.” I pace the room, the blanket trailing behind me like some tragic cloak.
I know I’m probably being dramatic , as Raymond so conveniently pointed out, but when it comes to Nana, I have no idea how far she’ll go when pissed off. No one’s been brave enough to test that…until now.
But before I can storm off with half-formed plans of fleeing Cherrywood swirling in my head, Raymond catches my arm. The pull is unrelenting and forceful, and I spin too fast. The next thing I know, I’m colliding with him—hard.
My hands splay against his chest, the solid warmth of him searing through his jacket. I freeze as the subtle scent of his cologne—cedarwood and lavender—floods my senses. It’s manly—exactly what one would expect from Raymond. My lips land on the hollow of his throat, and I know I’ll feel the phantom prickle of his five o’clock shadow for days.
His arms wrap around my waist, firm but not restraining, and I’m hit with a sense of safety I didn’t realize I craved. The feeling is so foreign, it almost undoes me.
“I can’t imagine you being afraid of anyone, Firefly,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
A shiver courses through me, completely betraying the frantic pace of my heart. It’s too much. All of it. His voice, his scent, the way he’s holding me like he’s trying to protect me from the world.
“You’d be surprised,” I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper.
My phone buzzes again, breaking the spell, dragging me back to reality. Raymond releases me slowly, his hands lingering, making my knees weak.
“No running, okay?” he says, his green eyes locking on mine.
I nod, unable to do much else. He steps back, taking with him the cocoon of security I hadn’t realized I’d wrapped myself in.
He holds my still-ringing phone with Nana’s name flashing like a neon warning. I instinctively shove my hands behind my back and shake my head. Raymond lifts an eyebrow at my immediate retreat. Yeah, he can be surprised all he wants—I’m not touching that phone. He sighs and puts it on speaker, shoving the microphone toward my face. I seal my lips tighter, determined to outlast Nana’s wrath, until it hits.
“Willow Billow Pershing!”
Crap. My middle name. My freaking middle name. I shut my eyes on reflex. Why does she have to use that word?
I thought we had a pact that no one was allowed to use it. Like ever. When Gramps gave me that silly name, thinking it’d be fun, he had no idea it’d someday become a sign of mockery and I’d hate it.
“You got engaged! You got fucking engaged without even consulting me? Did you forget your nana is still alive?”
I crack one eye open and glance at Raymond. His expression is priceless—wide-eyed and baffled. Welcome to the family drama, Mr. Teager.
I give him a pointed look before telling myself, “Deep breath, Wills. You’ve got this.”
“Hi, Nana,” I start, my voice shaky. “Did you see Whispering Willow is on the news? That’s exciting, right?”
Even Raymond snorts at my feeble attempt to redirect the conversation.
“Don’t try to act smart with me, Lolo. I’m very upset right now. Who is this man? Do you love him? Are you?—”
“Nana, I just woke up. Can we talk in a few minutes?”
“Willow—”
“I’m sorry, Nana. We’ll talk later.” And I stab the red button like my life depends on it.
The silence that follows is deafening. For a beat, neither of us moves, then Raymond exhales a long, heavy breath, like he’s been holding it in forever.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “But I can’t tell her—or my mom—the truth. They’d never let me go through with this.”
“Shit,” he mutters, gripping the back of his neck and throwing his head back. “I hate that we have to lie to them.”
“What about your family? Your parents?”
His stormy eyes meet mine, and I see the same turmoil I feel. “My phone looks a lot like yours right now. Texts from my mom, dad, uncles, aunts. The whole family group chat is lit up.” He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration etched into every line of his face. “But before replying, I wanted to talk to you. How do we handle this?”
He said we .
“You’re asking me?” I’m nervously wringing the hem of my shirt so badly it might just tear.
“It’s about us, right?”
I gulp. “I can’t tell the truth, Raymond. Not to Nana, not to Mom. They still believe marriage should only ever be for love.”
“And they’re not wrong, Willow.” His voice softens. “The best relationships are built on the foundation of love. You deserve to be with someone who loves you, respects you, and cherishes everything you care about.”
“What about you?” My voice drops. “Have you found that someone ?”
We’ve never discussed the topic of Quill’s mom. He must have been in some sort of relationship to create such a sweet girl.
“I’ve always known what I wanted from life, and a romantic relationship has never been important. Now that Quill’s in my life, keeping her happy is the only thing I care about.”
Before I can ask anything further, my phone rings again, with Nana’s name flashing. I show him the screen with a weak shrug and hit speaker.
“Don’t you dare hang up on me again, Lolo!”
“Nana, I was in the bathroom. I told you I just woke up.”
She steamrolls right over me. “So it’s true? You’re engaged? Who is he? Why?—”
“Nana, calm down before you give yourself a heart attack!” I blurt, genuinely worried now.
“I already had one this morning! Do you know how I found out about you? That lanky Mrs. Cade from my poker club texted everyone in the group! So of course they were all congratulating me, and I had no fucking clue why.”
Holy hell. Nana values her standing in her poker club a lot .
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, hoping for backup.
“She’s here. She’s listening,” Nana snaps.
“Mom?”
“Willow, are you okay?” At least Mom’s not blowing her top like Nana, but I can still hear the underlying concern. “We went to your apartment, but you weren’t there. Where are you, honey?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I promise. Please calm down.”
“Calm down! She’s again asking us to calm down,” Nana jumps in, but I can’t be angry at her outburst.
“Ma, give her a chance to at least tell us what happened,” my mom says, and guilt builds up again. Here she is hoping I’ll give her the truth, while I’m mentally crafting lies.
“I am not letting Lolo ruin her life, Steph.” Nana’s words are fast, and suddenly it hits me why she’s being crazier than ever. She thinks history is repeating itself.
Raymond shifts beside me, tense but silent. Our eyes meet and he gives me a terse nod.
“His name is Raymond Teager,” I say, steadying my voice. “He’s a good man, Nana. He?—”
Mom inhales sharply. “Teager? The same man who’s working with Gio?”
Raymond curses softly under his breath, but I push forward. “He was working with Gio, but not anymore. He wants to invest in Gramps’s dream, our dream.” My grip on the phone tightens.
“And you like him?” Mom asks, cautious but not accusatory.
“I do.” My gaze meets Raymond’s and there’s no other way to say this, so I simply proceed. “And he likes me too.”
“Like or love?” Nana challenges.
“We’re…getting there.”
“You fall in love first, and then you get married. It’s not the other way around, Lolo.” Mom’s voice is soft, but I don’t miss the hint of disapproval.
“These labels are coined by humans, Mom. I know how I feel about him and how he feels about me.” Before any of them can interrupt me, I add, “He gave me the most beautiful ring. It has a green sapphire because he knows I love nature. It has a feathered leaf band that symbolizes me and his daughter, Quill.” My heart settles a bit knowing I’m telling them some truth. “I didn’t like the man in the beginning because I didn’t know him enough. But now I see what an amazing man and father he is. And if it eases you, his daughter loves me like I’m some kind of princess.”
“He has a daughter?” Mom’s voice rises slightly.
Raymond stiffens beside me, but for once, I don’t worry. Nana can be crazy and Mom can be concerned, but they could never think a bad thing about a child, especially the one who loves me.
“He does. She’s the sweetest kid in the world.”
“Well,” Nana says after a pause, “then we should meet them. Come home for dinner tonight, you three.”
Crap. “Nana?—”
“No excuses, Willow. If he’s so good and you’re so in love, we’ll be happy. But we need to see for ourselves. So, you, him, and his daughter—tonight. Dinner at seven.”
She hangs up, and I stare at the phone, my stomach sinking.
Raymond lets out a low whistle. “It could’ve gone worse.”
I turn to him, incredulous. “Were you on the same call? You’re going to get roasted like a Thanksgiving turkey tonight.”