Chapter 18
Willow
It's beautiful today.
A rare stretch of sunshine, the kind you feel obligated to enjoy, so I've claimed the swing chair in the back garden, curled into the colourful cushions with my feet tucked beneath me.
The frame creaks softly every time I move, the fabric warm from the sun, swaying just enough to lull me into stillness.
Sassy is draped beside me, utterly shameless, sprawled on her back with her fluffy belly on full display, paws twitching as I scratch her just right.
She's always been a creature of comfort, but give her even the smallest patch of sunlight, and she will hunt it down like it's her life's purpose.
Today, with the garden bathed in gold, she's in absolute heaven—and honestly, so am I.
It might also have something to do with the fact that Elijah made me feel happier than I have in a long time last night.
Not just because he gave me the best orgasm with just his tongue, or that he's painfully good-looking in a way that should be illegal, but because he has feelings for me. Real ones.
When we got back last night, he made me a coffee to take to bed.
He kissed me goodnight before disappearing down the hall to his room, leaving me smiling like an idiot into my pillow.
Then, far too early this morning—something I absolutely complained about—he woke me up with kisses pressed over my face, murmuring how beautiful I am before he had to leave for work.
It's a long day for him today. He booked this weekend off for his niece's birthday, which means I’ll be meeting his family for the first time. Just thinking about that makes my stomach flutter.
I know we have a lot to talk about. What we've started isn't simple, and it definitely isn't something everyone will understand.
He's still going through a divorce, and River wouldn't take this well at all. I hate that we’ll have to keep us a secret, that we’ll have to be careful and quiet about something that already feels so real to me.
But for now, it feels like the lesser evil—better than hurting the people around us. Even if part of me can't stop wondering if this turns out to be temporary for him, and permanent for me.
Quinn also gave me a proper earful this morning when she FaceTimed me.
I hadn't even fully woken up before she launched straight into interrogation mode, firing questions faster than my half-sleep brain could process.
I couldn't tell her anything anyway, with River and Rose still in the house, which only made her more dramatic about it all.
So, naturally, she filled the silence by telling me about her night instead.
Apparently, it ended with her somehow spilling the bubble machine all over the DJ booth—how that even happened, I’ll never know.
Ezra threatened to kick her out, she threatened to get him barred from BeanTastics, and they somehow found themselves in bed together with a leggy blonde.
That particular detail is information I will be taking to my grave. River absolutely does not need to know that.
I close my eyes and let the world settle around me—the birds singing softly in the trees, Sassy's steady purr against my leg, children laughing somewhere in the distance. For the first time in a while, I realise the sadness isn't crushing me today.
It's still there, of course. It always is. But it's quieter. Manageable. It's a little easier to wake up, to swing my legs out of bed, to exist without feeling like I’m dragging the weight of the world behind me.
Don't get me wrong—there isn't a part of me that wouldn't give everything I have to get him back. But I know, deep down, that he never really left. Before he died, he told me I would never be alone. That his life was tied to mine. As long as I kept living, so would he.
Somewhere up there, he's probably fuming, hands on his hips, giving me a full-on lecture for falling for his ex-best friend. Honestly, I wouldn't even argue—he’d have a point.
“Thought I’d find you out here doing nothing.”
Just like that, my little bubble pops.
It was nice while it lasted. I keep my eyes shut, not even giving her the satisfaction of a response. She's got this talent for finding the tiniest things to nitpick, just to start an argument.
Not today, Satan.
“I don't appreciate being ignored,” she huffs.
I crack an eye open, letting my gaze land squarely on her, laced with all the snark I can muster. “Well, then, you're about to be very disappointed.”
I don't miss the way she looks at Sassy, and if she keeps it up, I might just smear my cat all over her face.
“You have no respect at all.”
“Not for you, I don't."
She stands there, blocking part of the sun, arms crossed, fingers tapping against her arm. “Where were you last night?”
I squint at her. “None of your business.”
“It is my business when my husband isn't home, at work or at his parents' house.”
Fuck this woman.
“Oh, you checked on him? A bit coercive, don't you think?”
Her lip twitches, but she pushes on. “I’m just a concerned wife. Neither of you was home last night, so… care to explain?”
Well shit. Is she tracking him?
Shifting slightly on the swing, Sassy curls into a tighter ball beside me.
I lean forward, tilting my head to the side as I look at Rose.
“Not that I owe you an explanation, because I don't. I got drunk last night, celebrating a new job, something you have never had, and I needed picking up. Ezra rang Elijah, your ex-husband, and he came to pick me up. Cause, unlike you, he actually gives a shit.”
Kind of the truth, but she's lied and betrayed Elijah enough for anyone to feel nothing but contempt.
Rose looks smug, eyes narrowing as she senses my simmering irritation. I tense, ready to leave, to just walk away… until she opens her mouth.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her voice drips with faux sweetness. “He doesn't care. It's guilt.”
Move. Just leave. Ignore her.
I clench my jaw. She's doing this on purpose. She thrives on arguments and hurting me.
“He doesn't really care about you. Elijah has always had a soft heart, and he hates himself for hurting Leon all those years ago.”
Annoyance roars through me. “I told you to never speak of my dad.”
Her annoying smirk widens, eyes glinting. “The only reason he helps you is that it eases the guilt. He couldn't care less about you. It's just convenient.”
I take a deep breath, willing myself not to rip off those fake eyelashes of hers. But she presses on, undeterred.
“The way he crawled into my bed last night… begging for me. I’d say we’re working on our marriage. And when we do, you're out of this house.”
The words hit me like a punch. They cannot be true—not after the way he kissed me, the way he looked at me.
No. That’s not possible.
“Nobody really cares for you, Willow.” She steps closer. I pivot my head, glaring daggers as she reaches toward me. “You’d do well to cosy up to Olivia's son at dinner on Sunday. Maybe he’ll pity you.”
She sizes me up. “Not a single person wants you. Look what your dad had to do to get away from you.”
I tremble, rage curling inside me, every instinct screaming to throttle her—but my body won't move.
“Now, I’m off to visit my husband before my spa night with the girls. This depressing aura of yours is giving me a headache.”
She waves her perfectly manicured fingers like she's done nothing, and just like that, she walks off—leaving my heart bruised and my good day in ruins.
It's been hours since Rose left, and somewhere in between, I broke down.
I thought about calling Elijah and asking him outright, but the idea twisted my stomach. What if he didn't answer because he was with her? I also didn't want to be that girl. The clingy one. The one who needed reassurance all the time.
So I didn't call.
I cried instead—and I swear Sassy is judging me from across the room. Honestly? I’m judging myself too.
The house is empty. No one's coming back tonight.
No one except Elijah, and I don't think I can wait for him to come home and find out the truth.
It's gnawing at me, making me all antsy and pick at the skin around my nails.
I can't eat anything, not even my sweets, which is saying something, because they're usually my emotional life raft.
The sun dips low, bleeding orange and gold before slipping away completely, and the darkness creeps in. I pull my jacket tighter as I head toward Elijah's garage. The day might have been warm, but the moment the sun disappears, the air turns cold like Antarctica.
I can do this.
Elijah wouldn't hurt me.
He wouldn't.
My thoughts spiral anyway, emotions colliding and tangling until I realise I’m standing outside without really remembering the walk. The shutters are open, the space inside empty, but the lights in his office are on.
Images rush in uninvited, every worst-case scenario playing on repeat.
Please don't let her be in there with him.
I twist my fingers together, skin pulling tight as my foot taps softly against the concrete. I just stand there, staring at the window, fully aware I probably look like a complete weirdo lurking outside a garage.
Two silhouettes move inside. Two.
Nausea settles in my stomach. Every instinct screams at me to leave. He isn't alone, of course. What made me think he would choose me when she exists?
Maybe they’re fixing things like she said, working on their marriage.
The thought sinks in, heavy and cruel. He’s probably thinking that last night was a mistake, and this morning's kisses, the soft words, and the way he looked at me were just guilt dressed up as affection. He’s had all day to think about it—plenty of time to realise I’m the wrong choice. Too complicated.
Too much baggage.
Not worth the fallout.
I swallow hard, forcing the sting behind my eyes down, but it doesn't go away. I yank my hair back from my face, hands trembling, and my stomach turns. God, I feel sick. Why am I so wrecked over this? We haven't even said what we are, and here I am, unravelling like a fool.
“Willow, what are you doing out here?” His voice cuts through the fog in my mind, low, urgent, and tinged with worry.
I can’t answer, and I feel his hands close over mine, warm and steady. “You're freezing. Fuck.”
I look up at him. His striking blue eyes scan my face, and I feel an unusual pull in my chest. Then I notice someone else approaching.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Blonde hair catches the light from the moon in soft, sunlit waves.
A sharp jaw softened by a dusting of stubble.
His eyes are a pale blue, kind, intelligent, the kind of eyes that put people at ease.
Elijah steps closer, sliding an arm around my waist, pressing me to him. His warmth seeps into me, grounding me, and the stranger halts a step back, his gaze flicking between us, curious but careful.
“Hey, you must be Willow.”
“I… um.. Sorry, I have no idea who you are.” I manage.
The man lets out a soft, amused laugh. Elijah's hand tightens on my hip, a small shake of his shoulders betraying the quiet amusement behind his otherwise unreadable expression.
“I’m not surprised; Elijah doesn't talk about any of us,” he says, extending his hand with easy confidence. “I’m Elliot, his better-looking brother.”
I raise an eyebrow in surprise but slowly take his hand, feeling the firm grip as we shake. I glance between the two of them. They couldn't be more different. I would never have guessed they were related.
“He likes to tell himself that every morning in the mirror,” Elijah jokes, smirking, and Elliot lets out a playful eye-roll, shaking his head.
“We all know that's Ezra's speciality,” Elliot adds, glancing back at me with a small, teasing grin.
He's not wrong; I can totally see Ezra doing that.
“I just wanted to check if this workaholic is actually coming to Millie's birthday party this weekend. You're welcome too.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” I responded quietly.
Elliot clears his throat. “Well, I'd best be off before my wife thinks I’m hiding in my car to avoid housework. Really nice meeting you, Willow. I’ll see you this weekend.” He pats Elijah on the shoulder. “Don't be late—or Millie will have your head.”
“Is it normal to be afraid of an eight-year-old?” Elijah asks dryly.
“How do you think I feel? She's just like her mother, and I live with them, so don't be late and bring the present she specifically requested, or it's both of our heads on a dinner plate on Sunday.”
Elijah watches his brother get into his car and drive off, his finger brushing against my side before turning to me.
“Let's get you inside so you can tell me why you're standing outside my garage looking like someone broke your heart.”