Chapter 36 – Leo #2
“I admit, I was a bit rash when I threw my phone.” My phone rings, still in her hand. “Why is Hallie calling you?” I look down at my phone where Hallie’s name is flashing on the screen, and despite the chaos, I can't help but smile.
“Because I called Jesse and told him you were missing. Hallie heard, and I was on the phone with her trying to get the cavalry together to try and find you when you showed up here.” She smiles, eyes going soft, before she lifts my phone and taps the accept button.
“Hey, Hal, it’s me. Yeah, I know. I know.
I promise, I will fill you in on everything.
I’m sorry I stressed you out, but I haven’t seen Leo in a few weeks, and he’s about to show me just how much he missed me.
” There’s a moment of silence from Willa, but there's not silence on the other end while Hallie laughs loudly.
Without a goodbye, Willa hangs up, then tosses my phone to the couch, followed by her clutch, before her hands wrap around my neck again.
“Ready to show me just how much you missed me, or are you still mad I disappeared for all of an hour and a half?” She’s light as air, smiling wide despite what I already know was a long and emotional afternoon, and it makes me fall for her just a little bit more.
“If you even think about doing that again, I’m taking you into my room and putting you over my knee until you see reason.”
Her eyes flare, and she lets me go before stepping back from me.
“Not exactly the threat you think it is, bud,” she whispers. “Maybe I should get a preview of just that.”
“Willa—” I start, but she keeps stepping backward down the hall towards the bedroom.
“Come on, Leo. It’s been a long three weeks. I need you.”
Who am I to argue with that?
So I follow her towards our room. She grins then, turning to face the hallway, but her steps falter when she sees a light on in the room that, up until recently, I hadn’t started renovating. She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes intrigued.
“What is that?”
My heart races.
“It’s not ready,” I warn, trying to beat her there, but I know it’s no use, something she proves when she ignores me, moving more quickly to the room I’ve been working on while she was going.
The guest room was finished just a few days after she headed back to the city, though I made it seem like it was taking me a long time.
With my need to keep myself busy while she was gone, I moved on to something else.
My days without her felt so damn long, the house empty without her wide smiles and her gentle teasing, and I needed something—anything—to keep myself busy while she was gone.
She calls this place home, but I wanted to make it her home, and I knew for that to happen, she needed her own space.
Somewhere to escape to, to write, to feel inspired, to work.
Over the summer, she enjoyed writing a bit outside, on the back patio or on the porch swing, but when inspiration hit hard, she wanted to be alone while she created her art, something I always tried my best to give her.
But with the house still under construction, there weren’t many options.
I knew that if we were designing this space together, she would choose things that she thought I would also appreciate, paints and accents and decor that would not fit her girlish heart, things she thought I would enjoy.
While I couldn’t anticipate all of her dreams for her ideal music and room, I had an ace in my pocket to help me plan.
Hallie helped me figure out Pinterest and find Willa’s home decor boards, specifically the ones labeled "music/office. "
There, she saved spaces that were filled with light yellows, blues, and greens. Each one gave the same vibe of sunshine and spring and summer and things that felt so purely Willa from the moment I saw them, and I knew those were the spaces she wanted, the ones that made her feel inspired.
The ones she needed.
The kind I needed to create for her.
I used those as the starting point, with Hallie, Nat, and Wren helping where they could, and the guys helping with any of the hard stuff, like installing bookshelves, redoing the lighting, or adding an additional window for extra light.
Still, everything, whether she realized it or not, is something she chose: wall paint and accents, lighting and runs, wall decor, even the wallpaper on the back wall was something she picked out.
But of course, the most important part is the light wood desk in the center of the room, my first fully custom piece of furniture, something that my dad showed me how to do, but I never actually did myself.
I thought about buying her something cool and vintage, but for some reason, I decided to try to do it myself.
I’m glad I did, because it fits the room so perfectly, and I can’t help but feel like some ghost of my father helped me finish it.
It’s all curves and heavy wood, the grain of the wood popping beneath the stain she chose when I texted her last week, pretending I was stripping and refinishing the dining room table, and even I have to admit it looks absolutely perfect in this room.
“What is this?” she asks, looking around, voice soft.
“It’s yours,” I murmur, a confession of sorts. She turns to me in shock, and I smile before explaining further. “It’s your office. For when you’re home. You need a space that’s yours, to be free and write and make music.”
“But this…” she starts, stepping in further, her eyes wide as she continues to take in the room.
“That’s the wallpaper Hallie showed me,” she whispers, stepping toward it before reaching out and sliding her fingers along the perfectly laid wallpaper.
Hallie did show it to her, since I sent her three different options, one of them from her Pinterest board, asking which she liked best, pretending it was for Emma’s room, and she was getting votes on everyone’s favorite option.
“I needed some help,” I explain, watching her with anticipation, still unsure how she feels about it.
Does she like it? Does she hate it? Is it too much, too soon, too presumptive?
She’s normally so loud with her emotions and her thoughts, telling you how it is and how she feels right from the jump, but right now, she’s anything but.
“And the paint color,” she whispers. Last week I asked her which color would be best for an office. I think she thought I meant mine, but when she said green or a pretty yellow, something inspiring and calming, then compared to her dream office board, I knew what to pick.
Over the last three weeks, I’ve asked her opinion in one way or another, be it through myself or Nat or Hallie or Wren, on each and every aspect of this place, slowly building up this dream room for her.
She continues to move through the room, fingers ghosting over a comfy love seat Nat picked out, her eyes shimmering as they pass over the wall mounts for her guitars.
The bookshelves behind the chair are empty, but with the way she runs her fingers over the wood, I already know she’s envisioning decorating and filling them.
In the corner, there is a lamp she had pinned, with butterflies on it, that I instantly knew she absolutely needed.
“Where did you find this?”
“Your Pinterest board,” I say, slightly embarrassed, but she smiles.
“My Leo, always giving me everything I could ever want.”
“Always, Willa.”
She doesn’t speak, instead smiling at me over her shoulder before moving to the desk, running her fingers over the top almost reverently.
“Where did you get this? it’s absolutely stunning,” Her words trail off as she looks to me. She must see something on my face because her eyes go wide before I nod.
“I made it,” I answer. “I’m not sure if you actually needed or wanted a desk, but if not, I can move it to any other room, or—” my words die on my lips when the tears well in her eyes, when she hiccups and puts her hands over her face, crying in earnest.
“No, no,” I murmur, moving to her quickly and pulling her into my arms, desperately hating to see her like this. “No, honey. No tears.”
“Leo, you can’t tell me not to cry over this,” she says, slapping my chest half-heartedly.
“This...this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.
All of it. I…” I use a hand to tip her face up to me, forcing her to look at me instead of around the room.
“You needed a space to write, Willa. It’s not just my place.” My fingers move, pushing hair behind her ear, and she gives me a watery smile.
“So I guess this means you’re in this for the long haul, huh?” she asks. She loops her hands around my neck, her fingers moving through my hair at the nape of my neck.
“I see you’re still not getting it,” I say, pushing hair back from her neck with the back of my hand and dipping my head down to press my lips to the pulse there. Her breath hitches, and I smile against her skin.
“Hmm?” she asks, slightly distracted, and I lift my head to look in her eyes.
“You’re still not getting it: I’m not in this for the long haul, Will.
I'm in this forever. This isn’t about some grand gesture or me giving you what you wanted for fun: it’s about what you need to stay here with me.
You need a place here where you can work.
One day, it’ll probably make more sense to build you a small building that has soundproofing out back, but for now, this works.
But as we grow, as we expand, start a family,” I wonder for a moment if this is too much too soon, but when her eyes go even softer, I know it’s not, not when we’ve been building to this for years.
“We’ll adjust so you can continue to have it all.
So we can have it all. And I’m open to discussion, baby, but I want this to be our home.
Not just this house, but Holly Ridge. I think we both found what we need here, including each other. ”