28. Wishing to the Fairies
WISHING TO THE FAIRIES
WILLOW
W atching Hope Teager glide around Raymond’s kitchen feels surreal, like stepping into a beloved memory or your favorite fairy tale. Except this fairy tale includes the fairy godmother herself, in the form of the legendary baker whose tutorials I devoured in my teens.
“My friends and I used to binge-watch your videos and attempt your recipes at my grandparents’ house. You made everything look so effortless, but we were absolutely terrible at it.” I try to keep my tone casual, but the fangirl energy is bubbling dangerously close to the surface.
Hope’s smile brightens, softening her features. “It was so much fun making those tutorials. Honestly, it was all Vienna’s idea—the cookbooks, the channel. She’s Rowan and Archer’s mom and the glue that held everything together. Having a partner like that, someone who believes in you, makes work feel like an adventure.” Her eyes crinkle as she glances at me. “I hope you and Ray create your own kind of magic with your new wedding estate.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You know about that?”
Hope flashes me a sheepish grin, nodding. “I’ve known for a while. I may have bribed Rowan and Archer to spill the details.”
I can’t help but smile at her admission. “Well, I’ve never felt more important.”
“Good,” she says with a wink. “That’s much better than you thinking of me as some overbearing, stalkerish mother-in-law, because I promise you I’m cool.” She gives me a double thumbs-up.
It’s impossible not to let go of a little laugh. But her words also twist something inside me, reminding me how easy it is to blur the lines between what’s real and what’s not. I’m just playing a role, a temporary one, no matter how much it feels like I’ve stepped into a life that fits me so well.
“I used to think I knew my son, but these past few months, he’s done nothing but surprise me,” Hope continues, oblivious to my spiraling thoughts, and I welcome the change.
I blink, my heart catching. “W-what do you mean?”
“For starters, I didn’t know he’d be such a natural at being a dad and that he’d adapt to this role so fast. The first night Quill was here, Raymond called me in the middle of the night. She’d had a nightmare, and he sounded so lost. Every instinct told me to rush to his side, but then it hit me. If I showed up, he’d never believe he could do it himself, be the dad Quill deserves. So I told him to hold her, let her know he was there, and that it would all be okay. But, gosh, I didn’t sleep a wink that night.” Her voice wavers slightly, and she crouches down to feed Captain Lick a piece of cheese. “When I came over the next morning, Quill was asleep in his arms. He looked exhausted, but there was this peace in his expression. That’s when I knew he’d figure it out.”
My pulse stutters, picturing a sleep-deprived Raymond cradling Quill, struggling but determined. “It must have been overwhelming for everyone when Quill came into your lives. I can’t imagine the paperwork and legalities alone.”
Raymond and I never talked explicitly about Quill’s mom, but at our girls’ spa day, what feels like ages ago now, Daisy told us Quill has no one except her dad.
Hope rises, her expression softening. “Ray didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head, my stomach twisting, hoping it’ll answer whatever she’s asking.
“I’m not surprised,” she says gently. “Ray doesn’t like to talk about it. When the caseworker brought Quill to his office, she had her mother’s will with her. It said Quill was to live with her grandparents, but if they were gone, she should be with her father. Ray didn’t hesitate. He didn’t take a paternity test or ask questions. To him, Quill was his daughter. That’s the end of it.”
“I…I didn’t know.” I swallow hard, trying to process.
There’s the Ray who would move heaven and earth for his daughter, the man who actually brought a goddamn helicopter to the middle of town just to keep her safe, when saving wasn’t even needed. He’s the man who has an army of staff to do nothing but make sure every piece of paperwork in his life is in order. And, there’s the Ray who didn’t need proof, who didn’t care about DNA to make sure Quill was his daughter. He just… was her father?
“He doesn’t like to talk about it, and when Quill came into our lives, we were all too happy that our bug found her way to us,” Hope repeats, patting my hand just as Raymond enters, Quill’s tiny hand in his.
My heart clenches as I take them in—the father with his easy confidence, the daughter with her perfect pigtails. Except for their matching green eyes, they look nothing alike.
But the thought fades away when Quill dashes toward me, her face lighting up at the sight of the chocolate cupcakes Hope sets down, decorated to look like sunflowers with bright yellow icing.
“I was about to send some pigeons for you, Bug. What were you doing?” Hope teases as she places a cupcake on Quill’s plate.
“We had some serious hair business to take care of, didn’t we?” Raymond scoops Quill into her chair with a proud grin, booping her nose as she giggles. I feel the love radiating between them like a tangible thing. I wonder if Quill knows how lucky she is to be surrounded by so much love.
“Willow, here’s your latte,” Hope says, placing a steaming mug in front of me. I’m shocked to find that it’s my favorite matcha latte, the exact one I always order from her bakery chain, Cakes for All.
My chest tightens at the thoughtfulness. On top of the cupcakes she brought with her, she’s arranged so many more breakfast delicacies, including my favorite butter croissants with honey, walnuts, goat cheese, and grapes. And it hits me—it’s not just Quill, but I, too, am in the middle of all this love, even if temporarily.
As we eat, Hope’s gaze shifts between me and Raymond. “Willow, I’m tired of asking this question to my son and getting nowhere, so I’ll ask you instead. Have you two set a date?”
The coffee nearly sprays out of my mouth as Raymond mutters, “Mom, you know this still isn’t public knowledge.” His tone is exasperated, as if he’s tired of this conversation. He gently tilts his head toward Quill, who’s completely absorbed in licking the yellow frosting.
And for a second, I feel a pang of guilt for using this sweet girl as an unwitting shield.
“A date could mean anything,” Hope says innocently, completely ignoring Raymond’s warning glance.
I’m still recovering, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin, when Raymond’s hand settles on my back.
“Stop scaring my girls, Mom.”
My girls?
Damn this man.
I glare at him, my heart doing that annoying flutter thing again. “You…you stop scaring me.”
“You look so cute together,” Hope says, beaming at us. “And no pressure, Willow. I’m just so happy. So, so happy.” She kisses Quill on the forehead, then Raymond, and finally walks over to me. She clasps my hands briefly, her voice soft. “It’s so wonderful to meet you.”
And just like that, I feel the full weight of this family’s love—and it terrifies me how much I want to belong to it.
* * *
As I step into Quill’s room, phone in hand, I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Bug, are you ready?”
She looks up from her spot on the floor beside Captain Lick. “We’re going somewhere?” she asks aloud, her voice soft but clear.
It still catches me off guard every time she speaks in words to me when we’re alone. It’s a privilege I never take for granted, even though I don’t understand why she chose me out of all the wonderful people in her life.
I hold up my phone, the text still lighting up the screen. “Your dad says we can go to the Ferris wheel.”
Her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up as a brilliant smile spreads across her face. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm, still grappling with my own disbelief. Raymond, Mr. Overprotective and Practical, actually agreed to let her go to what he’s famously dubbed a “death trap.” I glance at his text again.
Raymond: If you’re both still interested, you can take Quill to the Ferris wheel. It’s ready.
The “it’s ready” part has me stumped. Knowing Raymond, it’s probably something over-the-top and dramatic. But we’ll find out soon enough.
Almost half an hour later, I park my truck in the town center’s open parking lot. During the early days, Raymond told me that he has security for Quill. I didn’t understand at all.
Why would someone need a bodyguard in a town like Cherrywood?
The only crime that happens here is during the holiday season, when some shopkeepers increase the prices too high. The locals know which shops to avoid during that season. But I wasn’t going to tell Raymond to stop doing what he thinks is right for his daughter. Plus, I don’t mind the security as long as they don’t make me travel in a black SUV with tinted bulletproof windows. And surprisingly, he agreed to let me take Quill with me in my truck whenever we go out. I know his bodyguards are around, even though I’ve never seen them.
The familiar buzz of Cherrywood hums around us, and I lift Quill out of her seat before grabbing Captain Lick’s dog bag. Her hand slides into mine as we head toward the main street.
“Is the carnival still here?” she signs, tilting her head curiously.
I shake my head. “No. It was only for a limited time.”
And what a time it’s been. My life has changed in ways I never saw coming, all because of the little girl now skipping beside me.
My friend Mauve waves at us from her metal jewelry and tattoo studio. Her shop has always been one of my favorite stops, and I catch Quill eyeing the bracelets in the window display. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she’ll love the birthday gift I’ve already picked out for her. My grip on her hand tightens and she looks up.
“What?” she signs, tilting her head up at me.
“Nothing,” I reply with a soft shake of my head. “I’m just happy.”
“Me too.” Her grin mirrors mine, and hand in hand, we make our way through the market, and then I see it.
My steps falter, my words stumbling over themselves in a staccato rhythm. “What the heck?”
The Ferris wheel looms ahead, but it’s not the same rusted, faded ride I remember. The cabins gleam in bright yellow, each one adorned with sunflowers that look hand-painted. Even the ticket booth has undergone a transformation, shining with a fresh coat of glossy red paint, and a new box labeled Rescue & Security stands nearby.
Quill tugs on my hand, signing, “It looks different.” Her smile grows. “I love it.”
Of course she does. And I don’t need to think twice to know exactly who’s behind this.
Raymond. This freaking man!
How does he even pull things like this off?
As if the universe wants to suddenly answer all my questions, DJ steps out from the ticket booth, striding toward us with a grin. “Got a call from Raymond saying you two were on your way.”
I blink. “You know Raymond?”
He grins. “Know him? I’ve seen that man more in the last three days than I have you in months. This”—he gestures around us, taking in the Ferris wheel, the ticket booth, and the rescue station—“is all his doing. He won’t admit it, of course. But he cracked some deal with Mayor Coggeshall.”
My jaw slackens. “He fixed the Ferris wheel?”
DJ shakes his head, chuckling. “Nope. I wouldn’t let him mess with the ride itself—it’s part of the town’s charm. But he sponsored the upgrades and added a rescue team. You know, just in case.” DJ rolls his eyes.
“Just in case,” I echo, still trying to process. How does one man have the time, resources, and sheer influence to pull something like this off?
DJ checks his watch. “You better get going, and, Willow, take the third cabin on your right.”
Quill practically drags me toward the ride, her excitement bubbling over. “Is it the special one?” she signs as we step up to the entrance.
“Yes, it—” My words falter as we step inside the cabin.
The interior is stunning. Soft pink paint covers the walls, while pastel green upholstery lines the seats. It’s cozy, inviting, perfect. But it’s the words written in beautiful cursive on the cabin wall that steal my breath.
The Best Therapy.
“I think it’s about to start,” Quill’s voice jolts me back into the moment, forcing me to push thoughts of Raymond and his extravagant gestures out of my mind. At least temporarily. I snap into action, securing the cabin door and making sure Captain Lick is settled. As the ride lurches forward, my heart hammers in my chest, a chaotic rhythm that’s impossible to ignore.
This ride—this simple Ferris wheel that has always been my calm zone—is stirring up a flurry of emotions today. Each slow creak of the machinery feels like a metaphor for the precarious balance of my own life. By the time we reach the top and the cabin halts, I’m holding my breath.
I glance at Quill, who sits beside me, completely at ease. “All okay?”
She nods, smiling as she gazes out at the view in front of us. Following her lead, I turn my attention to the scenery. The sky is a stunning expanse of clear blue, stretching endlessly above us. The hills surrounding Cherrywood stand like quiet sentinels, their trees just starting to shift to fiery reds and golds—a whisper of autumn’s arrival. It’s breathtaking, but my chest still feels tight.
“Will you teach me how to wish on a sunflower now?” Quill asks, breaking the silence.
A small smile pulls at my lips. She’d asked me the same question at home, and I’d taken her and Captain Lick to Grandpa Will’s kitchen garden and plucked two fully grown sunflowers and planted some new seeds. I reach into my purse and pull out the Ziplock bag where I’d carefully stored the two flower stems. I hold one in my hand.
“What I usually do is close my eyes and say the wish buried in my heart, and then I place the flower there.” I point to the metal hook on the cabin wall. “I used to think fairies visit this place at night to get them.”
“And what do you think now?”
My gaze drops to this little girl beside me. I might have grown out of my childhood beliefs a little, but Quill is still small, and believing that there’s someone out there who’s much more powerful watching over me has always given me strength.
“I think I still believe in it.” I hand one flower to her and her tiny fingers wrap around the stem. She stares at it for a few moments.
“Is everything okay, Quillbug?” I ask gently.
“Do you think my wish won’t come true if I say it out loud?” she whispers.
I pause, taking in her worried face and the way she holds the flower like it’s fragile and powerful all at once. “I think,” I begin carefully, “any wish that comes from the heart will be granted. It doesn’t matter if you keep it to yourself or share it with someone you trust. There’s no right or wrong way to wish, Quill. The only thing that matters is that you believe in it. Wishing is kind of like praying.”
She looks up at me, her green eyes searching mine, and I hope she finds whatever she’s looking for. A beat later, her lashes flutter closed as she takes a deep breath. She clutches the green stem of the yellow flower. Her words come out slow, raw, and unfiltered, and they hit me square in the chest.
“Dear Wish Fairy, I wish you don’t take anyone else from my life. I’m really happy right now. I don’t want to lose my dad. I don’t want to lose Willow. I don’t want to lose Grandpa Will. I don’t want to lose Captain Lick. I promise I’ll never be a bad girl and I’ll never say a bad word. But please, please don’t take anyone away. I also wish that I can stay in my dad’s house forever. I love it there, and he wrote my name on the porch, so now it’s kind of mine too.”
The air in the cabin seems to shift, growing heavier with every word. Her wish wraps around my heart, squeezing until it’s hard to breathe. She’s afraid of losing her loved ones, and don’t I understand that fear a little too well.
I’ve lived it. I’m still living it. In this moment, I feel utterly powerless. How do I tell her not to be afraid of something I’ve never been able to let go of myself?
How do I promise her that the people she loves won’t leave, when I’ve not allowed any new relationships in my life just to protect myself from the pain of losing them?
I watch her, this brave little girl who speaks her fears to a flower, and I realize that before I can ask Quill to let go of her fear, I have to let go of mine at least long enough that I don’t feel like a hypocrite.
I have to live one moment—at least one—without fearing the worst.