Chapter 30
I hiss at the sting, tugging my palm from his grasp.
“Hold still,” Dallas urges, the alcohol pad dangerously close to my scuffed skin.
I’m lying back in a warm bubble bath. Dallas doesn’t own bubble bath, but he swiped some from Ellie’s bathroom on our way up.
I wasn’t expecting this . . . what I can only describe as aftercare. But then again, I wasn’t expecting to step into his bathroom and find red scrapes and dirt on my palms and knees either.
He swipes the pad again, gently, then blows against my skin. “How’s that?”
I grumble and take a sip of the champagne with my free hand. “And was this really necessary?”
“It’s still your wedding night. Tea didn’t seem appropriate.”
I finish the glass and hand it to him. “You going to get in with me now?”
He shakes his head and lifts the washcloth, dipping it in the soapy water then running it along the back of my neck and arms.
I groan. “Fine, I’m getting pruny over here anyway.”
He helps me up and drains the water, turning the shower on for me.
I wince under the spray. Then cover it up with a grin.
He rolls his eyes and moves to the counter with the first-aid kit. “When you’re done, I’m treating those knees again.”
A moment later he makes good on his promise—or threat—and cleans up my scuffed knees again and dries my hair.
When he’s done, I bring my hands to the back of my hair, forgetting he put some aloe over them.
“What are you doing?”
I look over at him in the mirror. “My hair’s still wet, I need to braid it.”
He pulls up the bamboo bench. “Sit down.”
I scoff. “This ought to be good, cowboy.”
By the time he’s done, it’s well after midnight, my braid is uneven—yet comfortable—and we’re both exhausted.
I’m lying in his arms, eyes closed.
“Willow . . .”
I hum.
“That thing between you and your mother that . . . doesn’t matter?”
I frown, suddenly not so stiffened by it. “Yes?”
“Forget I brought it up. I just don’t like how upset you get every time you’re alone with her. When I can’t protect someone I care about—I get a little angry.”
I smirk and curl up against him. “Don’t worry. I’m taking care of it tomorrow.”
The last thing I remember is him kissing the top of my head before I fall asleep and saying, “Me too.”
Dallas was up early this morning, but not to go to work on the ranch—he was up early with Ellie. By the time I stepped out of the bedroom, they were downstairs, dressed and halfway through breakfast.
My hands feel normal again, but still a bit raw.
“Morning,” I say.
Ellie beams at me. “Willow.” She jumps off the bar stool and hugs me. “How are you feeling?”
“Hmm?”
I look over at Dallas, sipping his coffee innocently. Like the man didn’t shut off my alarm on purpose today.
“Daddy said you weren’t feeling good and to let you rest when I couldn’t find my slippers.”
I gasp and look accusingly at Dallas. “Always wake me up for a slipper emergency.”
He chuckles. “Knew you two would gang up on me someday.” He turns and pours a cup for me. I take it and stand beside him at the island, sipping slowly.
“All done,” Ellie chirps, lifting her cereal bowl and placing it in the sink.
“I’ll take her today.” Dallas clears his throat and lifts Ellie’s backpack.
I round the counter. “Coming back to take care of me some more?” I glance at Ellie. “Like with chicken soup?”
He chuckles and leans in for a kiss. “No. I need to go take care of something. I’ll be back this afternoon. She’s got art class with Rose later, so you’ve got the day to yourself.”
I pout and he growls, biting my bottom lip. “I’ll be home soon.”
Home.
My eyes dance around the kitchen as they head out.
Dallas and I declared our love for each other less than twelve hours ago and I’ve never felt more at home.
More loved.
More cherished.
And when we switch to the banter and bickering? That’s fine too. I’ll take all of our versions.
Because I know he would too.
It’s late afternoon when I call my mother.
“Willow, not this again.”
“Mom, I’m serious. I’ve changed my mind. Don’t call the lawyer.”
“Sweetheart. What is the issue? You say you love the man, so this is the real thing. You’re not compromising your integrity or whatever.”
“I know. But I still want to wait. It just feels too soon. Plus, I don’t need it right now. Let me just bring this up to Dallas first. I don’t want him thinking—” I sigh. “Just, don’t do anything yet.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“Mom.”
“Tell me what happens when he leaves you.”
“What?”
“Tell me what happens when this one hurts you—blindsides you—just like the others.”
I swallow. “He’s different.”
She sucks her teeth. “Of course he is. At least this one is giving you a way to get your inheritance, Willow. Don’t miss this opportunity. Take your money. Buy that property you had your eye on.”
“Mom.”
“And do it yourself—like an adult, Willow.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“I lost everything to your deadbeat father, Willow. He spent all the money your grandmother left me. I had to start over. Make a name for myself. I was mopping floors when I wrote my first book, did you know that?”
“You said you were a waitress.”
“Yes. On the closing shift. Every night. Spending half of what I was making on your babysitter. Because I trusted and counted on a man who promised me everything and left me with nothing.” She sighs. “Well, left me with something more important than any money could buy.”
“Mom.”
She sniffles. “I hate watching you struggle with late-night gigs for lousy tips, living with roommates who smoke pot or exes who toss you out like leftovers.”
“Mom . . .”
“What?” she snaps.
“Thank you. I know you’re looking out for me. But . . . I need to tell him about the money first.”
“Fine. Tell him. Not like it matters at this point,” she sighs, “since you’re making me put it back.”
This is the first honest conversation my mother and I have had over this money—over anything. I don’t want to ruin it with another fight. I’ll give her this much.
“Thank you, and I will think about withdrawing it for good and what we’ll do with it, but he needs to be part of that conversation.”
She grunts as if she doesn’t agree or understand this part of a marriage.
I feel sad and angry that she got cheated out of something real and forever. But I’m not about to risk mine with a lie.
“So . . . tell me more about this book you’re working on.”
“Oh, it’s just like all my others, what I want to know is where you’re going on your honeymoon. You are taking one, aren’t you? I heard you and Dallas tell your guests the other night that timing isn’t ideal? You just got married.”
“Mom, we can’t think about that right now. Maybe when all this custody drama is worked out, we could, but neither one of us has vacation on the mind. Not to mention Dallas is hesitant to leave her for any number of days now and I don’t blame him. Heck I wouldn’t mind bringing her along.”
I hear her sigh. “All the perks of getting married—and you want none of it.”
“Oh I wouldn’t say none of it,” I say through a smile and just picture her rolling her eyes.