Chapter 37 Willow Morrow
Willow Morrow
“I never wanted my son to marry that woman. She was a vulture. The new girl—that’s more what he needs. But Mark always went for the bad girls. You know, he slept with one of his teachers his senior year of high school. I had her fired, and she’s lucky I didn’t get her ass thrown in jail.”
Willow didn’t hesitate, closing the distance to Mark and kneeling in front of him.
She kissed him on the mouth, then let him wrap his arms around her and pull her tightly to him.
They stayed in that position for a long moment, until his labored breathing calmed and he gained control.
He rested his forehead against hers and sighed.
“Shit, Willow,” he swore. “I missed you.”
“Well, I’m back for a bit.” She kissed him on the cheek. He smelled exactly the same. God, what a mental road trip that took her on. So many memories with this man. Mini building blocks of a life interrupted. She pulled away before she fell down that hole.
He wiped his eyes, and the last five years hung on him, the evidence everywhere.
So much more silver in his stubble and throughout his hair.
The crow’s-feet in the corners of his eyes.
The deeper lines on either side of his nose.
It didn’t look bad. Rather, he was more distinguished.
Damn men and their ability to age well. She was overdue for a facelift and eye job while he was still fuck-worthy seven days a week.
Not that she would be doing that. That was the new wife’s job.
She stood up and turned, wondering where the blonde had gone.
Willow was surprised to find Katie sitting on the couch, her arms stiffly by her sides, her mouth gaping open as she glared at them both. The kiss had probably been a bad idea.
“Where are your bags? Do you need me to bring them in?” Mark stood and gripped her shoulder, squeezing it as if to verify that she was still there.
She didn’t like the tight hold, didn’t like the memories it brought back.
The handcuffs, locking into place with a loud click.
They’d been on for more than twelve hours, no concessions made for a bathroom break.
No, a bucket had been brought in for that.
For months afterward, she had thought of that night every time she entered their laundry room and saw the red pail hanging in place by the mops.
“No, I can get them.” She turned toward Katie, twisting out of his hold.
The woman looked shell-shocked, and while she probably hadn’t seen her husband embrace another woman before, the blonde didn’t have anything to worry about.
“Katie will help me.” She headed for the entrance and grabbed Katie’s wrist on the way, pulling her toward the front door.
Come with me, she mouthed, and Katie stared at her blankly, then seemed to understand, stumbling after Willow and out the front door.
Mark started to follow them, and Willow spun around, holding up her palm like she was conducting a traffic stop. “Stay here,” she commanded. “Let me talk to Katie for a moment.”
He stayed, but his eyes narrowed slightly, and in the dark warning she saw a peek at the man she’d left behind. She backed through the door and pulled it closed, cutting off the connection.
Turning to Katie, she flinched at the woman’s pale, almost gray complexion.
Willow looped her arm through Katie’s and pulled the woman toward her ten-year-old Jeep Cherokee, which she’d bought with cash through a shell corporation three weeks before she left Mark.
He’d never found out about it, best she was aware, and she’d almost rented a car to come here—not yet ready to reveal that piece of the puzzle.
She hadn’t, and now she watched as Katie cautiously approached the car.
“This is yours?” Mark’s wife asked, staring at the There Is No Planet B bumper sticker affixed to the back window.
“It is.” Willow pulled up the back liftgate.
“A hundred and ninety thousand miles and counting. I drove this bad girl to Alaska, if you can believe that.” She grinned and reached inside, tugging on the handle of a storage container and bringing it to the edge.
When she was married to Mark, she had a twelve-piece custom luggage set from Goyard, each adorned with a monogrammed brass nameplate.
She’d taken three of the pieces with her, and they’d all died various deaths over the years.
Now she was schlepping clear plastic storage containers through the country.
They worked well when she moved into the hosted houses, but now she felt a moment of embarrassment in front of Katie.
She pushed the emotion away and glanced toward the house, making sure that Mark hadn’t followed them out.
“Look,” she began. “Straight shit, okay?”
Katie raised one perfectly shaped brow. This bitch probably waxed her entire body.
“This is going to be weird for you: Mark and I had an unhealthy relationship. We got things from each other—things that maybe you two get from each other and maybe you don’t.
” Willow shrugged like she didn’t care, like her entire soul didn’t rise and fall wondering what Mark’s new marriage was like.
“I just want you to know that I’m here for a few weeks, and then I’m gone and you’ll have everything back, just the way you had it.
So don’t stress. Mark will be stressed enough for the three of us, trust me. ” She smiled.
Katie didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t do anything other than stare at Willow as if she was trying to process the idea.
That was okay. Katie would have plenty of time to get used to this. Willow picked up the container and held it out to the skinny blonde. “Here. Carry this.”