34. A New Choice
A NEW CHOICE
WILLOW
Six months later
“Y ou did it, Willowbean!” Nana pats my cheek as I reach the table where she’s sitting with Mom and, surprise, surprise, Decent Joe, who looks ridiculously put together in a navy-blue suit and yellow tie. “Your gramps would be so proud of you.”
They say nothing goes faster than time, and the past few months have been proof of that. I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in such a short span. Blooming Quill is officially open for business as of today, as we celebrate its grand opening ceremony. DJ finally worked up the courage to ask my mom out last Christmas. Penny Hawthorne, Daisy and Charles’s daughter, is half a year old, and judging by her ability to command an entire room with a single tantrum, she’s right on track to be a full-fledged diva.
As for our bug, she’s stepped into her new role as a big cousin with the kind of determination and passion that makes my chest ache with pride. She still prefers signing over speaking, but every now and then, she’ll respond to her dad with actual words. And I know what it does to him, his whole world shifts whenever she says anything out loud.
“I got you something.” DJ’s voice drags me from my thoughts as he pulls a small square box from his jacket. “It’s nothing big.”
“You got me a gift?” I blink, genuinely surprised. “DJ, you didn’t have to.” But my hands are already peeling away the silver wrapping paper. When I lift the lid, my heart stutters. Inside, nestled against soft fabric, are two crocheted sunflower keychains. My throat closes as I trace the delicate threads with my fingers.
“I know you’re the one who leaves those sunflowers behind on the Ferris wheel.” His voice is gentle and thoughtful, reminding me why he’s one of my favorite people in this town. “Then you started coming with Quill, and there were two. So, one is for you…and one for your daughter.”
My daughter.
I’m not sure why those two words knock the air from my lungs. Maybe because they sound so right coming from him. Maybe because I’ve spent so much time trying to convince myself that I don’t belong in that role.
Before I can gather myself, Mom claps her hands together, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you and Ray were the first to get married here?”
And there it is, the other thing that has escalated over the past few months. Our families have become outright obsessed with taking Ray’s and my relationship to the next level. I don’t know if it’s because we’re setting up a wedding estate and everyone’s getting ideas or because they’re just bored and desperate for a reason to throw a party. Either way, I can’t go a single day without being asked when our big day is.
“Mom, I told you, Ray and I are in no hurry,” I say, exasperated. “We’re focusing on the business right now.”
“That’s total nonsense.” Nana scoffs, crossing her arms. “You two live together, and by the looks of how happy you are, I’m sure you’re getting some between the sheets?—”
“Nana!” My entire face combusts into flames as I choke on air. “Oh my God.”
She waves me off, completely unbothered. “What? You think your mother and DJ aren’t?—”
“Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.” I slap my hands over my ears. “I cannot listen to this.” I make my escape before she can traumatize me further, heading straight to my girl gang.
“What was that about?” Daisy asks as I slide into the seat next to her.
“Nothing. The same craziness.” I huff out a breath. “My family wants Ray and me married yesterday.”
“Can you blame them?” Elodie lifts a shoulder. “You two look like the most perfect, swoon-worthy couple of Cherrywood.”
I narrow my eyes and mumble, “You do remember this whole thing is fake, right?”
“So we’re still sticking to that storyline?” Violet raises a brow.
I groan, grabbing the plate of hors d’oeuvres from her hands. “What’s in these? Because clearly, they’re causing mass delusions.”
Daisy leans forward, placing a hand over mine. “Wills, for a second, forget how this started, forget how you and Ray got together. Just think about what you have now.”
I pull away, my throat tightening. “I already told you…it’s not like that.”
After Daisy was discharged from the hospital, my friends ambushed me with an intervention, and I had to come clean about the blurred lines of my arrangement with Raymond.
“It’s just…”
“Please don’t say sex.” Daisy groans, rolling her eyes. “The way that man looks at you everywhere you go, it’s not just sex. You’re clearly either too blind or in a serious case of denial, Wills.”
Before I can argue, she tilts her head, and like a moth to a flame, I follow her gaze. Raymond is standing by the outdoor bar, deep in conversation with his cousins. But his eyes? They’re on me .
He looks…devastating. The event planners went all out, making this grand opening look more like an actual wedding to suit the theme and venue. Every man—including Ray—is dressed in an ivory suit. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and unlike the rest of the guys, who are wearing white roses on their lapels, Ray has a small sunflower held in place by a quill-shaped pin.
A lump forms in my throat. He looks like a groom. My fingers grip the silk fabric of my dress and my heart starts to race, like clockwork, whenever he’s around.
Stop it, Wills.
I force myself to look away.
Violet clears her throat. “And you were saying it’s only sex?”
I exhale. “I never said I wasn’t attracted to him.”
Daisy shakes her head. “Charles and I spent a major part of my pregnancy apart because he was too scared to accept his feelings. I hope you don’t make the same mistake, Wills.”
I let out a slow, shaky breath because, deep down, I know it’s not the same. Charles loved Daisy. They had a real, official wedding, with vows that had words like until death do us apart . They both believed in their happily ever after.
But Ray and I don’t have any of that. In fact, if not for that crappy article, no one would have known we were engaged. We’re an outcome of a circumstance that’s now approaching its end.
* * *
“Why are you hiding in here?” Raymond’s words slip through the quiet, rich and smooth like a slow-burning melody. I turn to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his bow tie undone, the ends draped carelessly around his collar. The top button of his shirt is popped open, giving him that frustratingly effortless look—like he just stepped straight out of a swoon-worthy, epic romance movie.
“Who said anything about hiding? I’m…appreciating.”
He steps into the dimly lit party hall. “Then I won’t stop you. This is definitely worth appreciating.”
I follow his gaze as it sweeps across the space, taking in the high V-shaped ceiling, the exposed wooden beams, and the soft glow of chandeliers suspended from above. The floor-to-ceiling white curtains flutter slightly with the night breeze from the open patio doors.
The staff has already cleaned up. The tables are draped again in pristine white cloths, centerpieces arranged with perfect precision. Everything looks untouched––a blank canvas, waiting for the next chapter. Raymond picks up a candle from one of the tables and flicks open his lighter, the tiny flame illuminating his face as he watches it catch.
“It was an amazing event.” He steals the words right out of my mouth.
I swallow. “It was.”
“And you look stunning.”
“Thanks.”
Much like the men, who looked every bit like grooms for the day, we girls were dressed in gowns that could make any bridal party green with envy. Elixir Estates’ in-house stylist chose a champagne-colored dress for me, claiming it complemented my red hair. My curls were expertly styled by a team of patient hairstylists who didn’t bat an eye as I spent the entire time on the phone, making sure everything else was running smoothly.
“Are we planning on staying longer? If so, I can ask my mom and dad to sleep over at our place with Quill tonight.”
My breath catches. Our place. He says it so easily, like it’s a given, like I’ve always been a permanent part of his life.
“Ray—” I swallow, my throat tight, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The words I’ve been shoving aside all day claw their way to the surface. Does he realize it too? That as of today, every term of our arrangement has been fulfilled? But instead of asking the question that’s been eating at me, my voice twists, betraying the truth I’m too scared to admit. “What happens now?”
“Now you run a kick-ass business like you were always meant to.” His fingers brush against my cheek as he tucks a loose curl behind my ear, and I swear my heart is clawing its way out of my rib cage.
“Are…are we really not going to talk about…the future?”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. If anything, it’s like he was expecting me to ask. “Today was a good day, Willow.” His voice is calm, steady, but beneath those measured words, there’s something else—something unspoken, something heavier. “We built an incredible thing together. Do you really want to spend tonight talking about anything else?”
“Wouldn’t it be stupid if we didn’t? Turning a blind eye to reality doesn’t change it.”
Finally, a slight tic in his jaw while his eyes remain locked on mine. “Our reality, our future, changes every day, Firefly. The choices we make now shape what’s ahead.” He steps closer, his presence as equally comforting as it is overwhelming. “You and I, we can make another choice?—”
“Don’t. Please, don’t say it.” My voice cracks. “I can’t, Ray. I can’t pretend I don’t know how this ends.”
Because I do. I’ve always known. During every moment I spent with him and Quill, I told myself it was okay to be happy because we had an expiration date. But now, if I let myself believe this could be something more, if I act like I can love him the way I already do, I won’t be able to collect the pieces of my broken heart when he leaves.
And he will leave.
Raymond might fight for what he loves. He might move mountains for the people he cares about. But at some point, he will realize he deserves more than someone who is too scared to reach for him the same way he does.
“I just want to end this on a good note,” I manage. “I need to remember this as something good.”
“You think this is an ending, Willow?” His thumb brushes over my jaw, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “That’s your first mistake.” His words settle deep in my chest, an ache I don’t know how to hold. When he leans in and presses the softest kiss to my forehead, I almost break.
“Ray, please?—”
“Shh. There’s something I want to show you. Come with me.” His warm fingers wrap around mine as he leads me down the quiet hallway and finally stops in front of a door. My breath catches as I read the golden plaque: Willow Pershing.
“You did this?” I turn to him because I knew this room was supposed to be my office, but nobody said anything about making it this official.
He gives a tiny nod before pressing a key card to the panel. The soft beep echoes in the silence. Raymond steps inside first, then turns, waiting for me. The last time I was in this room, it was nothing but four walls, as the furniture was still to be delivered.
Now, I feel like I’ve walked into a dream. The space is decorated in a feminine blend of modern and soft, tailored to me in every way. A sleek mahogany desk sits near the window, along with a comfortable chair tucked neatly behind it. There’s a sitting nook by the fireplace that catches my eye, complete with a light yellow couch and a knitted throw casually draped over it.
My feet carry me toward the fireplace, where the mantel is filled with framed photos. I reach out and my fingers brush the edges of the first frame—a picture of Gramps and me by the stream where his memorial bench now sits. The next photo is of Mom, Nana, and me, taken during one of our small, imperfect, and crazy Christmases. There’s one of me and my friends that was taken during Daisy’s baby shower.
How did he even get his hands on these pictures?
I blink rapidly when my gaze lands on a candid shot I don’t even remember being part of. Quill and I, dressed in matching blue pajamas while sitting on the grass with Captain Lick sprawled between us, his tongue lolling in bliss. My chest tightens at the sight of pure happiness on our faces. Then there’s the last photo—Raymond, Quill, and me on her birthday. I swallow hard, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over me.
You know you can never find a man more perfect than him.
As if he’s determined to prove my inner voice correct, Raymond steps behind the desk and opens one of the drawers. When he turns back, he’s holding a small square gift box wrapped in silver paper.
“Quill and I had something made for you and I have very clear instructions that you need to see it tonight.”
Oh, my bug.
Raymond leads me to the couch and flicks a switch, bringing the electric fireplace to life and filling the space with a soft glow. “Open it.”
I hesitate. My hands tremble as I reach for the box. “I’m scared.”
“What are you afraid of? It’s definitely not an engagement ring, since I already gave you that.”
“That’s so not funny!” But my fingers automatically drift to the beautiful green sapphire ring on my hand, the one I wear for all public appearances.
“Okay, no jokes. It’s not jewelry. Does that help?”
I narrow my eyes at him but tear at the wrapping paper anyway.
“This was all Quill’s idea, so I can’t take any credit.”
My breath catches as I stare at the miniature version of Cherrywood’s Ferris wheel in my hands. Even the cabins are painted to match the recent renovations. Raymond leans forward, pointing to a small lever on the side.
“Turn it.”
My fingers crank the handle, and the Ferris wheel begins to move, slow and steady like a music box. It does one full turn as the cabins change their places.
“Look inside the top one.”
I lean closer to find two small figurines, one with long red hair and one with blonde curls, each holding a sunflower. My vision blurs. “Ray?—”
“You have no idea how much you mean to Quill, how much you mean to me, Willow.”
My arms wrap around him on instinct, my body shaking as I bury my face in his chest. Raymond catches me without hesitation, his solid grip anchoring me in place. My fingers clutch at his shirt, desperate, as if letting go would mean falling apart completely.
“Are you trying to kill me?” My voice wobbles.
His low chuckle rumbles through me, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles down my back. “Not at all.”
When I finally lift my head, his gaze locks on to mine. He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. I don’t know what I did to deserve him—to deserve any of this. And yet, a cruel, realistic part of me refuses to believe it’s meant to last.