3. Willow
3
Willow
My boss is good .
A little too good. Almost to the point where I want to believe this ruse is the real thing.
Chris Fletcher, CEO, is a cold, immaculate man who is happy to step on his competition and fire anyone he sees as incompetent. He’d rather lock the door to his office than deal with four people who do nothing but socialize as they eat.
Chris Fletcher, my boyfriend , sits next to me, his palm resting against the middle of my back with his fingers stroking the back of my neck. He’s touching me, and I didn’t even have to beg him to do so. Right now, I can’t tell if I want to giggle or squirm. At the moment, I’m too busy staring at the warm smile on his lips, melting away the cold exterior I’m so used to seeing.
My heart doesn’t understand that this is some kind of act, a play on his part. All he’s doing is giving my sister a reason to stare, and oh boy, is she.
If I have to guess, she’s probably trying to figure out how I snagged such a good-looking guy. That’s one mystery she will not solve. Thankfully, she can’t ask a thousand questions to poke holes in my story. Like me, she’s returned to town, and now it’s her turn for our parents to ask a bunch of questions.
“Do you want a second plate?” Mr. Fletcher–no, Chris , asks as he leans in. His breath tickles my ear, and this time, I can’t help but squirm. He has to understand how much effort he’s putting into this act of his. When I shake my head, he chuckles. Chuckles! “You’ve been staring at your empty plate for a while now.”
Looking at him, I fight the urge to lean in. With the excuse to do whatever I please with this man, I’m tempted to touch his arm, his shoulder, any of his body, really. Touch it just because I can. His smile is still there, and looking at it makes me wish it would stay forever.
“You have a lovely smile.” Murmuring the words without thinking, his little snort helps make me realize. As heat crawls up my throat, I sputter. “I mean, you just don’t–”
“You make it sound like I don’t smile enough, Willow.” His thumb tickles my hairline. “Is that it? Should I smile more?”
“No.” The answer comes immediately and with surprising confidence.
If he smiled like this, his employees wouldn’t avoid him at all costs. Many of the female employees would surely find an excuse to come see him. They’d even try to take him away from me.
You’re making it seem like he belongs to you, Willow. Get a grip.
His smile doesn’t disappear. Rather, it grows . “Just for you then, sweetness.”
Sweetness! I want to cover my face and scream. Like some young girl with her first crush, I fight the bubbling urge to giggle.
Forget about him saying my name. I’ll take a pet name any day of the week.
I’m already dreading the end of the weekend. Once everything returns to normal, I’m going to miss this. Even if we’re pretending, and he’s saying words he should, I know by Monday morning, I’m going to suffer.
For now, still so early in this trip, I want to enjoy myself and let myself think for even a day, that this is real. Right now, I’m living in a fantasy, and I don’t think anything can make this better.
“Oh!” Wynter gasps as if she suddenly remembers something important. “We have something to give you.”
Just as she darts away from the table, my father scoffs and tells her she doesn’t need to bring them anything. It falls on deaf ears because my sister returns with a white gift bag with blue tissue paper sticking out from the top.
“It’s from both of us.” Sitting back down, she reaches over and squeezes Hugh’s hand. “We both put equal effort into it.”
He chuckles like there’s a joke to be told, shared between the two of them.
I watch as my mother is happy to pluck away the tissue paper. Crumpling it up, one of the balls rolls my way and hits my plate. It’s the way she gasps that makes a heavy weight form in my stomach. It’s like I already know what the gift is without even looking in the bag.
She’s pulling out a photo, gripping it hard as her mouth moves. “Pregnant?”
“With a boy,” Wynter beams. “At least look at the onesie we had custom-made before you freak out.”
My breath catches as I watch my mother shrill with happiness. She’s hugging Wynter, and tears are already prickling in her eyes. Even my father is swelling up as he stares at the sonogram.
“Willow, you’re going to be an aunt! Isn’t that so exciting?” My mother bubbles as she looks at me, her eyes shining.
I feel like I’m going to be sick.
A smile forms on my lips as soon as I feel Chris squeeze my shoulder. It’s a grounding squeeze, hard enough to bring me back to. “That is amazing!”
I’m not as good of an actor as Chris, so my voice wavers, much to my dismay.
Wynter is pregnant, and I should be happy for her. Instead, all I can think about is that, once more, she has something I’ve always wanted.
First, a husband who loves her unconditionally. Now, a child to make their family complete. Despite being only nineteen, she has everything I’ve dreamed of having.
Luckily, I’m not dragged into the conversation any more than the short giving of my congratulations. Watching my mother already suggesting baby names makes my stomach clench.
“I think we’re going to call it early.” Chris’ hand slides from my shoulder as he moves to stand. “Jet lag and all that—we’re exhausted.” He looks at my sister and her husband, giving them a nod. “Congratulations on the baby.”
My body moves on its own, following his lead. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” My words come out rough, just like the motion of my steps.
Chris carries my plate to the sink and helps wash up before allowing me to lead him to the room we’ll be sleeping in for the next couple of days. Once Chris shuts the door, he shows no signs of exhaustion. “What happened?”
I look at him, my eyes wide. His confusion falters for a moment before he takes two steps toward me. Like he realizes what he’s doing, he stops as he catches himself.
“It’s the same thing it always is when it comes to her.” Running a hand through my hair, I groan inwardly.”It’s stupid,” I tell him as I pace a line against the carpet. “She got married first and had this big, beautiful wedding. Then I bring you here, feel like I’m on top for just a moment, just a sliver of a second, and now she’s having a baby before me.” I pause and grimace. “Instead of being happy for my sister, I’m jealous. Jealous . I’m sorry you have to see me like this. Please, I’ll just need a minute to get over this.”
More than a minute. What I need is a good output to get these feelings out. He agreed to be my boyfriend, not my therapist. Maybe if I slip away and let a few tears fall, I’ll feel better and move on from this.
Chris should agree with me about how terrible I am. Instead, he moves in front of me and catches my arms. His touch is so warm, so inviting. For a split second, I’m distracted. “It’s not stupid.”
For a man who knows the definition of stupidity, he should have no problem calling me out on it.
“Do you want a baby, Willow?” He squeezes my arms and asks me again when I don’t answer him.
“Of course I do, sir. I want a family as much as anyone else my age.” My brows lower, and I count the threads on his shirt instead of looking him in the eyes. “I’m getting older every day, and nothing has changed because–” I pause, catching myself.
Because I’m pining over a man who only touches me when he’s playing a part.
Because I’m overworked by the same man, spending most of my time with him at the office instead of going out and meeting a man who can come second best.
“Willow.” His impatience seeps through when I don’t look at him. He releases one of my arms and uses his finger to tilt my chin up. Making me look at him, at those dark eyes that always bring goosebumps to my skin, his smile is nowhere to be seen. “Because why ?”
My chest feels tight enough that I can’t breathe. I’ve held onto this answer for the entire length of my employment with him. If I tell him the truth, I know it’ll be like a weight rolling off my shoulders. With all the other emotions I’ve been feeling today, the wall I put up to contain my feelings is currently crumbling. It’s the reason why my lips tremble and my hand moves to cover his.
There’s no going back now. At this point, I don’t think I can make myself feel any worse.
“Because of you , sir.”