Epilogue
TWO MONTHS LATER
Jack
“This is it?” I ask.
“This is her,” Willow enunciates with a nod, her arm looped through mine as we stand in her parents’ foyer, staring at the tiny shrunken plant on display in the center of the marbled room. We didn’t stay long after our chat a few months ago when I met Don and Moira Sinclair.
“And she really gets her own seat when your parents fly with her?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“She once had a seat beside Orlando Bloom.” Her eyes widen with a slow nod at the bonsai. “Her life is the most glamorous of us all,” she adds with a whisper.
I grunt, sliding my hand down her sleeve to link my fingers with hers.
I have to push aside the cuff of her hoodie up to find her fingers, or rather my old hoodie, the one she claimed in the canyon and never returned.
Even though it’s not technically her color, she says the warmth in the green is one she can get away with.
What she doesn’t know is that she can get away with anything, especially when she’s looking at me with those huge moss green eyes and my hoodie hitting her mid-thigh, her shorts barely peeking out and only her fingertips visible from beneath the sleeves.
She looks so adorable that I’m fighting to stop myself from pulling her into my arms right here and taking her up on her offer to veg out on my couch and binge some TV. If anyone else asks, I’m just an innocent bystander when my girlfriend puts all those K-dramas on.
But Willow needs this. She needs to be in this space, free of the pressure she felt before. And damn do I love watching Confident Willow in front of her family.
She uses her finger to dust a couple leaves on the little tree before murmuring a few words of encouragement and turning to me with a nod and I can’t help the infatuated grin that grows on my face. She’s adorable.
We walk to the kitchen to deposit a case of beers in the fridge while Giorgio waddles in beside us.
After greeting her parents, we make our way outside to the party, dodging various huddles and gatherings of sports talk.
I don’t mind the football discourse, and I’m confident I can hold my own with her family. But I’m content beside Willow.
What I don’t know is how I ever thought I stood a chance at resisting her charm in the first place.
She purses her lips beside me, Giorgio cradled in her arms while she smiles at her cousin in that way that tells me she’s got an entirely different narrative unfolding within her head.
I’ve lost track of the conversation, distracted by the tiny twitch of Willow’s lips when Emily, the infamously jealous cousin, gushes over the yacht her boyfriend Kyle just purchased.
I hide my own smile with a scowl at Dr. Kyle, when his eyes flick to Willow’s legs.
All of the tension she’s told me her family gatherings used to churn up is nowhere in the relaxed stance of her shoulders.
She seems genuinely at ease amongst her thrill-seeking family, even as they shout scores and rules for the games they’re playing, competing like it’s the Olympics and not a friendly game of backyard cornhole.
Giorgio gets restless, and I take him from her, holding his leash so he can sniff around the potted plants on the patio. The scent of burger patties draws him to the grill, and Willow’s mom tosses him a piece, winking at me before she disappears to fulfill her hostess duties inside.
After failing to belittle Willow’s accomplishment, not only for finishing the hike, but also for helping close an ongoing smuggling-slash-murder case, Emily and Kyle smile with slight flares to their nostrils, as if they’re on the verge of combustion.
It’s obvious Emily doesn’t like being upstaged, though she only has herself to blame.
Willow wasn’t even the one to bring up the topic. She’d rather stay under the radar, but the news report of the beautiful content creator apprehending a smuggling syndicate turned murderer went viral, and the spotlight seems to follow Willow wherever she goes now.
Emily may as well get used to the feeling of coming in second.
I guide Giorgio back to Willow, drawn to her side like a starved man.
“I’m surprised you brought a date, Willow,” Emily says after nobody responds to her monologue about the width of Kyle’s yacht. This guy is overcompensating in the biggest way. Unless you’re Elton John, nobody with any financial sense or an ounce of security in his masculinity buys a superyacht.
“Jack’s not just a date, he’s part of the family,” Willow’s dad chimes in and chuckles, his large hand patting my shoulder before he wraps the other arm around Willow’s waist. “Jack saved my baby’s life, and if she doesn’t keep him around, I’ve already considered adopting him.
Plus, he gets a nod of approval ‘cause he played pro football.” He adds that last part with a wink, and I swallow hard.
“What?” Willow scrunches her nose, making me want to kiss her adorably confused face.
Our relationship is new, okay. I haven’t had the chance to tell her everything. Plus, the professional sports thing is a sore topic for her—was a sore topic, at least. I didn’t think the Don Sinclair would recognize me, but apparently, the man knows his football.
Emily snorts. “You really didn’t know your date was a pro football player, Willow? What, did you hire this guy and forget to get your stories straight?”
Willow frowns, and I bristle at Emily’s tone. “It was a long time ago, and I’m her boyfriend, not her date,” I clarify, turning cold eyes to Emily before they soften back to Willow. “I only played for one season. I quickly realized it wasn’t what I wanted to do,” I add.
Willow narrows her eyes at me while Don thankfully pulls Emily and Kyle into a separate conversation.
“You’re like an action figure that comes out with a new backstory and career every year.
How about you name the careers you haven’t tried?
” She tilts her mouth to the side, her hands gently resting on my sides while kids chase one another and scream over lawn games around us.
I hand Giorgio’s leash to one of Willow’s younger cousins as he walks past us, and Willow giggles as I lace our fingers together and drag her around the side of the pool house, out of sight.
Pushing her back against the wall, I cup her face, drinking in her smile.
“I’ve never been a model…”
“What a shame.” She shakes her head.
“I’ve never been an assistant to an up-and-coming image consultant…”
“Well, you’ve missed your calling,” she says and laughs, resting her chin against me as she peers into my eyes. This woman.
The moment she crashed into my chest, a chasm divided my life, marking time as before I met Willow and after. And I hope the second part never has an endpoint.
Standing beside her almost three months ago while she tearfully told her parents everything she’d held back for years and boldly declared she was done being afraid to fail—I nearly dropped to one knee and proposed right there.
Her parents were so gracious, admitting their own faults and recognizing what they could have done differently.
By the end, we were all a little teary, and it helped create a deeper bond between all of us and eased their minds about learning to trust the man their daughter had only known for less than a week.
In the end, Don told Willow she didn’t have to pay him back; he was just glad to finally see her passionate about something.
Her bravery made me fall in love with her all over again.
But I’d already tumbled head over heels the moment she saluted me that day.
With her constant humming, her quick-witted mind, her never-back-down attitude, and her determination to poke at me until I faced my demons, she broke a spell.
For so long, I’d let myself be convinced that I had to be alone to be safe, that the only way not to experience pain was to avoid… everyone.
What a dumbass I was.
It only took meeting Willow to realize that shutting everyone out was all the more painful.
And getting to know her made it impossible to go on living without her.
Do I worry that something will happen to her?
Every day. But then I catch myself and thank God instead for bringing her into my life and for all the memories we’ve been able to make so far.
“There is one calling that I’m hoping to make a lifelong thing. It’s sorta new, though. Maybe you can let me know your thoughts,” I tell her before I lean down to kiss the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah? I thought this park ranger gig was your calling?” she asks in a breathy voice.
“That’s a career. This is a vocation…the most important thing I’ll ever do.” I add another kiss to her cheek.
“Sounds long term...”
“Oh, it’s very permanent.” I smile. “Just like my love for you, Willow Sinclair.”