31. Willow Kingsley
Chapter thirty-one
Willow Kingsley
I draw in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. I copy Jason’s mother’s number into my phone. He’s in the shower right now, and I know that after the long practice he just had, he’ll be in there for a while. That should give me enough time to call his mom and tell her to come to his game this weekend. It’s short notice, but Jason said they’re serial investors, so they have plenty of free time on their hands. If they don’t come, it’s because they choose not to.
I press call and walk into our shared master closet to resume my search. I want to take the horses out on the trail tomorrow morning to watch the sunrise, but I can’t find the thermal leggings I bought to wear when I ride in cold weather. I just bought them, but Jason has a tendency to put away clothes in all the wrong places, so I haven’t been able to find them.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice says into my ear.
“Is this Lydia Kingsley?” I ask before introducing myself.
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Willow, your son Jason’s wife.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “Oh, how wonderful to hear from you. Patrick and I were thrilled to hear of your marriage.”
“I’m glad.” I pause, draw in a breath of courage, then continue. “I’m calling to invite you and your husband to Jason’s game this weekend. It’s one of the more important ones on this year’s schedule, and I know he’d love to have his family there.”
I open each of my dresser drawers as I speak, rifling through them with one hand. Where on earth did he put them?
She hesitates before answering. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to make it. We have several events already on our calendar for this weekend. But please tell Jason we wish him luck.”
I scowl. You’re not getting off that easy. “Could you not rearrange your calendar to come see your son? I know he would appreciate it a lot.”
Another weighted pause. “Jason knows we support him. We’re simply not the football type. He understands that,” she says in a patronizing tone.
“Jason may understand, but I don’t. Good parents would be there to support their son, both of their sons. Jason has an incredibly busy schedule, and yet he’s seen more of Shepherd’s games than you have.”
“You don’t have any right to speak to me this way. How long have you known my son? A few months, weeks? You know nothing of our family.”
“You’re right, I don’t know anything about your family because you haven’t even deigned to call me, much less visit. I know more about Jason’s old college football coach than his parents.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“And I don’t appreciate you neglecting my husband in favor of your social calendar.” I slam my top drawer shut in frustration. “Jason doesn’t need your support. He has friends and we’re building our own family together. So you don’t have to come this weekend, but know that your choice is reflective of you as a parent. What kind of mother do you want to be?”
She doesn’t say anything in response, but I don’t have time to wait for her to gather the words.
“I hope you make the right choice. Have a nice evening,” I say and hang up.
With a sigh, I resume my search, this time on Jason’s side of the closet. I hope that his parents come, but even if they don’t, I managed to round up enough people to make him feel supported. My parents are coming into town, so they’ll be there with my granny. The Thrashers have a bye week, so Coach Bash and his family, plus Shepherd, are coming. It would be the cherry on top for his parents to show up. Jason deserves to feel loved and supported when he gives so much to everyone. Especially since the lawsuit stuff still hasn’t gotten straightened out yet.
After combing through hangers, I open Jason’s drawers. It’s a little awkward opening his underwear drawer, but knowing him, he probably shoved the leggings in here to mess with me. I move his underwear and socks around to see if he hid anything beneath them. A flash of white amongst the sea of black catches my eye. I pick up the folded piece of paper, my brow furrowing.
Several words have been scratched out or written over, one of which is my name. Did he hide this here on purpose, knowing I’d be looking for my clothes? It sounds like something he would do.
I unfold the paper, my breath catching when I read the title:
My Vows
Willow Lo, I know this isn’t what you imagined your wedding day to be like. It’s not what I imagined But standing here with you feels perfect to me. As with every day since we met, I’m overwhelmed by how beautiful you are, both inside and out. I love how you take care of those around you, like Granny Mae. And the way you brighten up every room you walk into. You’re funny and smart and creative. I can’t wait to get to know you more. I hope you feel the same
I vow to cherish you, to take care of you when you’re sick or upset, to support you in all that you do, and to try my best to make you happy the way you deserve.
Maybe our love story is unconventional, but I think it will still be a good one.
Tears blur my vision. All this time, he’d written vows. He wanted this to be something more from the beginning. I wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my–his–sweatshirt before flipping the paper over. The other side is mostly short little lines he was trying out before he scratched them out. The tears keep coming as I read the words over and over.
I register the sound of the shower water cutting off in the middle of my tears. My heart rate spikes. Will he be upset I read this? I don’t think he intended for me to find it as I had originally thought, but then again, he’s been putting away laundry wrong for some time now. Maybe he was waiting for me to come across this. Either way, I won’t be able to hide my tears from him. I don’t want to. I want him to know how much this means to me.
The bathroom door clicks open and I leave the closet, paper in hand. Jason emerges in a cloud of steam, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. My eyes rake over his damp torso. Maybe the vows can wait…
“Lo? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
I blink back to reality, dragging my gaze up to his face. Confusion is written all over his expression. His mouth is hitched up on one side, like he’s not sure if he should be smiling or not. I’m sure I’m giving all sorts of mixed signals by ogling him while I’m crying.
I hold the paper up. “You wrote vows.”
His eyes light with recognition upon sight of the paper. “I forgot I put those in my drawer.” He rubs the back of his neck, flexing his muscles in the process. “Are these happy tears?”
I nod and wipe my face again. “I-I wish I would have known. I wasted so much time.”
Jason steps to me, wiping my tears away with his warm, strong hands. “You weren’t ready, which is why I didn’t say them.” He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “There was no time wasted. Everything happened as it was supposed to. We’re here now, that’s what matters most.”
I meet his gaze, staring into his emerald eyes. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too.”
He cradles my face in his hands and kisses me again. It’s languid and intimate, setting my nerves alight. The paper falls as my hands settle on his chest. His skin is still warm from the shower. I let my hands roam, traveling up to his shoulders and down his arms, memorizing every ridge and contour. A low groan vibrates through his chest and he wraps an arm around my waist to drag me closer. The heat of him burns through my clothes, enveloping me, consuming me.
Soon, our kisses grow feverish, and we gasp for air and more of each other. I rake my nails over his scalp, tingles cascading over my skin at the growl that follows. His hands slide over the curves of my body before picking me up by my thighs. Not breaking the kiss, he lays me down on our bed. The coolness of the sheets contrasts with the fiery warmth of his touch. It’s a heady combination that steals my breath.
His body settles over mine. Desire collides with intense emotion when I realize how safe I feel. How loved.
Tears trail down my temples.
Jason pulls back, worry clouding his features. “Did I hurt you? Am I going too fast?”
I shake my head, a trembling smile stretching my lips. “I’m just so happy,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”
He smiles down at me. “You’re everything to me, Willow. I love you.”
Our lips join together once more. We melt into one another. Every caress of his hand, every brush of his lips feels as though he’s writing his vows over again on my skin. I sink into pure bliss, knowing that I’m loved and cherished beyond measure.