26. A Heart and a Painted Mark
A HEART AND A PAINTED MARK
WILLOW
T he house falls into a tranquil silence after everyone leaves. Quill and I stroll down the hallway, Captain Lick trailing beside us, ready for his nightly pee walk. Just as we reach the steps where the new ramp has been installed, we spot Raymond. He’s standing there, hands on his hips, his brow furrowed like he’s solving the world’s greatest mystery.
“Admiring your handiwork, Teager?” I tease, leaning against the doorway.
Raymond glances up, his gaze shifting from Quill to Captain Lick before settling on me. A small smile tugs at his lips, and his eyes light up as if us all being here is the most precious thing to him.
“I think it’s missing something. But since you’re all here, why don’t we give it a test run?” He walks to the edge of the ramp and beckons my dog. Captain Lick looks down at the freshly oiled ramp with one curious look, his ears twitching, but then, like he’s in a dog show, he walks down to Ray.
Quill claps her hands, and I can’t stop my smile.
“Test run successful,” Raymond declares, scooping Captain Lick into his arms, and then, without hesitation, he plants a kiss on my dog’s head.
The image of him nuzzling his stubble against my chin earlier flashes in my mind, uninvited and making my stomach flip. I shove it aside—again. This is becoming a freaking full-time job these days.
When Raymond sets Captain Lick down, my dog trots off toward the lawn, now fully acquainted with the new routine in this house. Meanwhile, Raymond strides toward a stack of paint cans I hadn’t noticed before.
“Did you guys buy out the entire hardware store?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He grins, ruffling his hair in a way that makes him look boyish and entirely too irresistible. “I guess we went a little overboard.” Returning with a set of paintbrushes and a can of white paint, he kneels on the ramp, pencil in hand.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Quill signs, her curiosity matching mine.
Raymond winks at her—a wink, for heaven’s sake. My ovaries practically implode.
“Just finishing the look.” He sketches two small outlines on the ramp with a pencil before dipping the brush into the paint, and within minutes, two tiny paw prints come to life. He finishes by writing Captain Lick in neat, careful letters around the prints.
“Now it’s official who owns this ramp.”
“Dad, make one for me too!” Quill exclaims, grabbing the paintbrush before he can even set it down.
Raymond chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh no, Bug. For you, we do it the right way.” He disappears for a moment, then returns with a can of light green paint. After pouring the paint into a tray, he lifts Quill by her waist. “Slippers off, Bug.”
Quill grins, kicking off her slippers until they land on the stone floor with soft thuds. Raymond lowers her onto the tray, and her tiny feet sink into the bright color. I don’t even question the safety of the paint. Raymond wouldn’t let his daughter near it unless he was absolutely certain. When he lifts her again, her paint-covered feet land smack on the ramp. Two small impressions, vibrant and unmistakably hers.
“How’s that, Bug?” Raymond asks, setting her down gently.
“I love it, Daddy!” Quill bounces on her heels.
I can’t tear my gaze away as Raymond picks up a smaller brush, carefully adding Quill Teager along one footprint and Bug around the other. My heart aches and swells at the same time.
“Willow, your turn,” Quill signs, her little fingers moving with determination.
“What?” I gasp, the word tumbling out of my mouth like an uncoordinated leap off a high dive.
Me? Leave my mark in Raymond Teager’s house? Not in a million years.
I take a deliberate step back, shaking my head for emphasis. Before I can fully escape, Raymond’s hand finds mine, his grip strong and steady. He tugs me closer, his face a picture of amusement.
“Take off your shoes, Willow.”
I glare up at him, defiance surely written in bold letters across my face. He might have gone crazy, but I still have some brain cells left to know whatever he’s trying to do is a BIG mistake.
Raymond lets out a low chuckle, turning to Quill with mock exasperation. “Our Willow is too stubborn, Bug. What do we do about her?”
Our Willow?
My heart stumbles over itself, and I hope my face doesn’t betray the chaos his words cause.
“Nothing. There’s nothing you have to do.” My voice is all sharp edges, but the man smiles like he’s immune to me.
Before I can make good on my silent threat to stomp on his foot, Quill tugs on my shirt. “It’ll be fun, Willow. Your feet will be right beside mine. Forever.”
And just like that, the fight drains out of me.
How does one say no to that face?
“Fine,” I huff, turning my narrowed eyes on Raymond. “But I’m only doing this for Quill.”
He grins, lopsided and boyish, and for a moment, he looks so young it makes my chest ache. “I’ll still thank you,” he says, dragging a hand over his heart like he’s making some solemn vow.
With a resigned sigh, I toe off my shoes. But before I can dip my feet into the paint tray, Raymond lifts me clean off the ground like I weigh nothing.
“Hey!” I squawk, arms flailing. “Stop handling me like I’m your personal doll!”
His lips dip close to my ear, his voice low enough to make every nerve in my body stand at attention. “I haven’t even started handling you like my personal doll, baby.”
My brain short-circuits. Every witty comeback I might have had vanishes into the ether.
He lowers me into the tray, the cool paint squishing between my toes. Then, just like he did with Quill, Raymond presses my painted feet onto the ramp, leaving bright green marks circling Quill’s.
He sets me down and then hands me a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a fresh washcloth. “Why don’t you both clean up while I finish here?”
I take Quill’s hand and start toward the garden bench, only to realize that we’re leaving a trail of green footprints all over the porch.
“Raymond,” I call over my shoulder.
“Yes, Wills?”
I ignore the way my nickname sounds on his lips, warm and safe. “What about these?” I point at the mess we’ve made.
He glances at the green chaos, and a grin spreads across his face like he’s been handed the best gift in the world. “I think they’re a great bonus.”
“You’re impossible,” I mutter, shaking my head.
When we return to the ramp, clean and paint-free, Raymond is sitting on the steps, wiping his feet with a washcloth.
Confused, I glance at the ramp. And that’s when I see it.
Raymond’s prints circle mine, which cocoon Quill’s tiny ones in the center as if we’re protecting her. But the detail that steals my breath is the tiny heart painted between Quill’s prints. And it’s terrifying how much I want to be part of this life he’s building—paw prints, paint smudges, and all.
I shake my head to bring my mind to the right place.
Raymond has labeled his footprints Raymond Teager on one and Ray in quotes on the other. For mine, he’s written Wills on one and Willow on the other. The only thing missing is my last name.
“It’s Pershing, in case you’ve forgotten,” I point out, trying to find some balance between annoyed and flustered.
He stands, towering over me. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing about you, Wills.” His voice is low, rough, and it lands squarely in my chest. “Maybe I just don’t like some things the way they are.”
And just like that, Raymond Teager has me completely undone. He doesn’t give me a second to process his cryptic words before he’s on his knees in front of Quill.
“You know your birthday is coming up soon,” he starts, his words gentle in a way that makes my chest ache. “I wanted to ask…if you’ve thought about what you want from your dad as a gift, Bug?”
My ears perk up immediately. Even though we’ve planned some fabulous surprises for her big day, I’m curious to know what’s been brewing in that little mind of hers.
Quill’s face lights up, like she’s been sitting on this idea for a while. Of course she has. This dad-daughter duo is full of surprises lately.
She signs, “Can I go to the Ferris wheel, Daddy?” Her big eyes sparkle with hope, and I burst into laughter, doubling over.
“Oh my God, Quill. You sneaky little bunny. You totally cornered your dad!”
Ray chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair, his lopsided grin making him look entirely too charming for his own good. “She definitely did,” he says, glancing between me and Quill. “Okay, you can go to the Ferris wheel. But not tomorrow. I’ll let you know when.”
“Okay,” she signs, and without hesitation, she throws her little arms around his neck.
The world shifts.
Every time Quill spontaneously shows him affection, Raymond’s expression turns serious. His eyes flutter shut for the briefest second, like he’s holding on to this moment with everything he has, soaking it in and storing it somewhere safe. It’s a look that always twists something deep inside me.
When she finally pulls back, he looks down for a second, composing himself. Then his voice steadies, returning to the calm, practical dad I’ve come to know.
“Now, you get ready for bed while I clean up out here.”
* * *
I walk to the pergola with a stack of mock-up invitations for Quill’s party. They’re printouts I’ve been tweaking for days. I brought them to get Raymond’s input—or at least, that’s the excuse I’m telling myself. Lately, it feels like I need a backup topic, something harmless and neutral in case I have to redirect a conversation veering into dangerous territory. The kind of places Raymond seems to navigate with ease while I flail.
Wrapping my shawl tighter around my shoulders, I breathe in the cool night air. It’s crisp and clean, with a faint trace of paint lingering from earlier.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”
His voice makes me jump, my eyes flying open to see Raymond standing there, tray in hand. The same tray from earlier. But this time, it holds two mugs, and I know they’re filled with his signature hot cocoa.
He hands me a mug and takes the seat across from me. I clear my throat, determined not to let him throw me off-kilter tonight. I’m holding on to my sanity by a thread anyway, so I launch the conversation into a safe zone.
“I can’t believe you actually agreed to Quill’s Ferris wheel request.”
He smiles, a slow, devastating curve of his lips, and shrugs. “She caught me off guard. I think she’s learning that from you.”
“Me?” I squeak. “I’m not teaching your daughter anything wrong!”
“I never said you were, Wills,” he counters smoothly, his voice carrying a teasing edge that makes my pulse stumble. “But if she’s learning how to make me crazy, I’d say she’s got the perfect teacher.”
The mug freezes midway to my lips.
Crazy ? I’m making him crazy? That’s rich, coming from the man who’s turned my life upside down. But I bite my tongue. I won’t let him bait me. Not tonight.
I have bigger things to know from him, like what happened with Gio, something he promised me to share this afternoon. When the silence stretches too long, I finally cave. “Are you really not going to say anything?”
His smile grows, slow and infuriating. “There are a lot of things I could say right now. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“About Gio, dammit.”
He sets his mug down, his jaw flexing for a fraction of a second. I’ve spent enough time around him now to know that’s his tell—he doesn’t like where this is headed. Too bad.
“I told you he’s not a problem anymore,” Raymond says evenly.
“And you think that’s enough of an explanation?” I press, leaning forward. “You said we’re partners. Partners don’t keep secrets, Raymond.”
His sigh is soft but heavy, like he’s carrying the weight of the world, but I’m not going to cave. “I bought the land from Gio.”
My breath catches. “You bought it?”
“It would’ve been impossible to prove in court that it was yours. When your cousin first approached me, my legal team combed through everything. I’m sorry, Willow, but your gramps left behind a mess.”
I close my eyes, the weight of his words settling heavily on my chest. “So you’re the new owner now.”
“No.” His voice softens, drawing me back. “You are.”
My eyes snap open, locking on to his. “What?”
“Your gramps wanted you to have it. Now it’s in your name. All the paperwork has been finalized. No one can take it from you ever again.”
“You bought the land in my name?” My voice rises with disbelief. “Were you ever planning on telling me that?”
“Yes.” He smiles nonchalantly. “Eventually.”
“Raymond, this isn’t funny.” My heart pounds as the implications hit me. I know what that land is worth. I’ve had people approach me about it before. “Do you have any idea?—”
“I told you before, Wills,” he cuts me off, “I don’t do anything halfway. We’re building something together. There was no way I was leaving that to chance.”
His words hang in the air between us, and I find myself struggling to respond. Finally, I manage, “When did you buy it?”
He doesn’t flinch. “The day you agreed to be Quill’s nanny.”
My breath catches. “The land has been mine since then?”
He nods calmly. “The paperwork took time, but yes, it hasn’t been Gio’s since that day.”
I don’t know what to say. This man—this frustrating, impossible, incredible man—keeps doing things that leave me completely breathless.
I place my mug on the table and stand, my legs shaky as I put space between us. My steps falter as I grip one of the wooden beams of the pergola for balance. My heartbeat roars in my ears. Behind me, I feel him approach, his presence as grounding as it is overwhelming.
“Are you upset?”
I close my eyes tightly, willing the tears not to fall. It’s ridiculous to feel like this, but the emotions claw their way up regardless. “I’m not upset,” I whisper, the words trembling on my tongue. “I’m just…not used to it…” The rest of my sentence dies in my throat, tangled in the knot of emotions I can’t untangle.
“Not used to what, Firefly?” His tone becomes gentle, coaxing. Raymond turns me to face him, his hand tilting my chin up so I can’t avoid his gaze.
I draw in a deep breath, as if that alone could steady my pounding heart. “I’m not used to people…picking up the slack for me.” My voice cracks slightly. “After Gramps passed, Mom and Nana were deep in grief. I understood that, I really did,” I add quickly. “He was everyone’s rock. But someone had to step up. Whispering Willow was his legacy, and I couldn’t let it fall apart.”
My words rush out now, an avalanche of long-held feelings. “So, one day at a time, I learned everything—every single thing—about running that business. I got to know the staff, made them feel like family. And now, for the first time, I’m not physically there.” I don’t tell him that I still get hourly updates to keep my sanity intact.
“What about your dad?” Raymond’s question strikes a chord I rarely touch.
My fists clench reflexively at my sides. He notices, of course. His hands gently cover mine, prying my fingers open and threading his own through them, anchoring me.
“Tell me,” he urges softly.
I exhale shakily. “When I was five, Nana and Gramps brought Mom and me to live with them. She’d been enduring…things…in silence until it got too bad to hide. They saved her.” My words are raw, dredged from a place I rarely visit.
His grip on my hands tightens, the pressure a silent offering of solidarity. I’m grateful for his silence, for him not telling me to move on or that we were lucky, because it could have been worse.
“Do you know where he is now?” Raymond’s voice drops an octave, each word carrying a lethal weight.
I press back against his fingers, grounding him as much as myself. “He died a few years ago. Mom got a call—someone thought I’d like to pay my respects. And no, I didn’t go,” I add quickly, before he can ask. “If I’d gone insane that day and decided to visit, Nana would’ve chained me to a chair before letting that happen.”
His lips twitch, and the tension in my chest begins to ease. “I like your nana.”
“Really?” I arch a brow, remembering how she wasn’t exactly likeable during their one meeting. I wouldn’t mind if he found her eccentric or a bit too much.
He chuckles. “She reminds me of my gigi, my mom’s mom. Gigi was a firecracker—no filter, no patience, but all heart. It was just me, Gigi, and Mom for the first few years of my life. Some of my best memories are with her.”
I bite my lip, debating whether to ask the question gnawing at the edge of my mind. “Can I ask you something?” I run my tongue over my dry, nervous lips and Raymond’s gaze follows.
“You already know you can.” His hands still hold mine.
“It’s…personal.” My voice is hesitant.
His mouth quirks into a half smile. “That’s the direction we seem to be heading these days.”
I huff a small laugh despite the nerves. “I’m curious…do you know anything about your birth father?” I blurt the words out before I can second-guess them.
His smile vanishes, and his hands tighten on mine. I’m ready to backtrack, to tell him to forget I asked, when Raymond clears his throat. “I asked my dad once, when I was a kid. He told me I was his son in every way that mattered, and that was the only answer I needed. Then he made me promise I’d never go looking for anything more.”
“And you…listened?” My brows lift in disbelief.
Raymond nods without hesitation. “I’d do anything for that man, Willow. Giving up something I didn’t need in the first place was a small price to pay. I know he was protecting me from something, and whatever it was, it doesn’t matter. I’d never seen or heard about a man in my mom’s life until Dad literally bulldozed his way into our lives and made us a family. I don’t just respect him. I love him. I’m not embarrassed to confess that I wouldn’t be who I am without him.”
I let go of his hands and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. “How are you like this?” I murmur, my words muffled against him.
His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. “I hope you mean that in a good way.”
I pull back enough to look up at him. “I mean, you’re so full of emotions and affection sometimes. But then out there”—I throw my head to the side lightly, gesturing to the area outside the Teager house bubble—“putting your name and the word ‘love’ in the same sentence feels like a criminal offense.”
Raymond fakes a lousy attempt to gasp, his eyes twinkling. “Wow. I didn’t realize I was that bad at being a businessman.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you need me to send a mirror to your office?”
He laughs, the sound warm and rich, before his features settle down and he looks at me with a hint of a smile. “In business, you show weakness and people will eat you alive. So I decided a long time ago that I’d never take anything for granted. Whatever I do, I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
He doesn’t say it outright, but I get it.
Whatever’s between us, even if it’s temporary, even if it’s fake, Raymond Teager will be giving his everything. And I realize that might be the most dangerous thing about him.
“Do your parents know about this ?” I motion to the space—or lack thereof—between us.
“This?” Raymond raises an eyebrow, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip like he’s fighting a grin.
I swat at his chest, ignoring how firm and solid he feels under my palm. A voice in my head warns me that touching him is starting to feel a little too natural. I start to pull back, but before I can create any distance, his arms tighten around my waist, locking me in place.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting myself feel the safety of his hold. For a second, under the cover of the night sky, I let my guard drop. It’s stupid, but it feels good to be cared for—wanted. When I open my eyes, I force myself to speak.
“The fake couple thing. Us. ” My voice comes out softer than I intended, and of course, the man grins wider.
“Oh, that us.”
And I know exactly what he means. There’s the us we present to the world—the engaged couple putting on a show—and then there’s this us— held by a messy, charged thing that feels like stepping onto a ledge, wondering if he’ll catch me or if I’ll fall.
“My mom’s dying to meet you,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. “She’s threatened me in every way to get you to meet her.”
My eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Of course, Wills. I’m her only beloved son. Do you really think she wouldn’t want to meet the woman I got engaged to?” His grin turns devilish. “I told her if she barged in without my go-ahead, you’d probably run for the hills and Quill would be devastated.”
I gape at him. “Oh my God. You’re such a manipulative man.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “In my defense, I wasn’t lying. If my mom had shown up the day after the engagement announcement in that paper, you would’ve bolted.”
I cross my arms, hating that he’s probably right. “Fine. Maybe I would’ve.”
“There’s no maybe about it. You definitely would’ve. But would it be okay if she visits…tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” My throat tightens at the thought. But before I can spiral too far, Raymond pulls his phone out of his pocket, then taps the screen a few times before holding it out for me to see.
It’s a series of texts from his mom. At least two a day.
Mom: Can I meet her today?
Mom: How about tomorrow? Love you, honey.
Mom: Still waiting to meet my future daughter-in-law.
I scroll and scroll, my jaw dropping lower with each message. “I can’t believe this.”
“She’s persistent,” Raymond says, clearly amused by my reaction.
I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around it. Hope Teager—the woman I’ve seen online, effortlessly whipping up designer cakes that look like something out of a fairy tale—wants to meet me . My stomach churns with anxiety. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
Raymond leans in, his expression softening. “She already loves you. You’re the woman who helped her granddaughter find her voice when no one else could. To her, you’re basically Wonder Woman. Just without the lasso.”
Guilt presses down on me, heavy and unrelenting. I’m loved because Quill chose me. Not because of anything extraordinary I’ve done.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper, mostly to myself.
“You can say no to tomorrow,” Raymond offers gently. “But she’ll be at Quill’s birthday party, along with the rest of my family. And I must remind you, they’re…a lot—uncles, aunts, grandparents. But they all adore Quill.”
I smile despite myself. “And I’m sure our bug loves the extra attention.”
The realization hits me at the same moment it registers on Raymond’s face. His smile grows impossibly wide, and his grip tightens around me like he’s won some silent victory.
“You finally said it.” His voice is soft, reverent. “You called her ours. I’ve been waiting to hear that for so long.”
Before I can think of a response, he dips his head and brushes his nose against mine. The contact steals the breath from my lungs. His gaze locks on mine, heat and something deeper sparking in his eyes before they drop to my lips. When my tongue instinctively flicks over them, he groans, the sound rumbling through me and igniting every nerve in my body.
“You decide yes or no, Willow,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, like the night in my room. “But if you say yes, I’ll show you how hard you made my heart pound when you called my daughter ours. I’ll show you what it means for you to belong here—with me and Bug.”
I close my eyes, memories of his touch and the way he made me feel last night flashing behind my lids. When I open them again, I meet his intense gaze head-on.
“Before I answer, I want you to remember?—”
“I haven’t forgotten a single word you’ve said, baby.” His voice cuts through the night, steady and sure. “You don’t do serious. I get it. Now, tell me—is it a no or a yes?” Like the previous night, he once again gives me two options.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not saying no.”