Chapter 38 Willow
thirty-eight
Willow
“Zach was at the store again today?” I ask Noah. On a whim we decided to walk Calla around town after dinner, and we plopped the puppies in a wagon, dragging them along.
Lazy’s and Chloe’s Nook are open, shining bright on The Green. Maybe we’ll go later, once the puppies are back home. For now, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than walk under the early evening’s silver sky with our little rescue family.
Noah nods. “He came to have me sign off on his project.”
Something in his tone sets off alarm bells. “It wasn’t good?”
He shrugs. “It was great. Why?”
“You look… preoccupied.” He’s been off all day. I wish he’d just tell me what’s going on. Lowering my voice, I nudge him. “Gail again? Mom thought she saw her at the store. I thought maybe… maybe that was why she was on edge, yesterday.” The memory of our argument still burns.
He grunts. “Beck told me he’s seen her around town, and Elaine mentioned she came by the deli.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “But it’s not about Gail. It’s your mother. I went to see her this morning.”
I stop us, Calla pulling on her leash. “What for?” She didn’t mention anything when I sent her my daily text, and I just assumed Noah was on a random errand.
He runs his hand through my hair, his gaze roaming my face like this is where he’ll find the right words. “I just… wanted to clear the air.”
Tough luck with that. Mom revels in drama. “How’d that work out for you?” I snort. Feeling my mood, Calla pulls forward, and I follow her.
Noah pulls me closer under his arm and kisses my temple. “I think she got the message.”
Oh, Noah. Mom only hears her own tune. “What message?”
“That I love you.” His words come out strangled.
I stop us again and wrap a hand behind my husband’s neck.
Calla sits on my foot, and even the puppies are quiet.
A tear forms in the corner of my eye, surprising me.
“I love you too, Noah. I don’t care what she thinks.
It’s her loss.” I deeply resent Marcy right this moment for putting Noah through this.
He doesn’t owe her anything. My breath shudders, anger threatening to spill out.
He kisses me softly on the lips. “You love me,” he repeats, bringing his forehead to mine—our cocoon of privacy in the middle of town.
“Of course I do,” I whisper. “Always have. Always will.” Standing in the middle of The Green, stars above us, puppies at our feet, I savor this perfect moment with my husband.
He tightens his embrace and leans in for a deep kiss.
Calla exhales a loud sigh, making us giggle. Pulling away from my lips, Noah curls a strand of my hair around his finger. “She repeated that you swore you’d never get married. Made it sound like a serious rule you had for yourself. Is that true?”
Now why did she need to say that too? “Yes, it’s true.”
His Adam’s apple bobs; a frown settles between his eyebrows. “Should I be… concerned?”
He’s already worried, and something stirs deep inside me. “Well, clearly, rules are made to be broken.”
He gives me his half-crooked smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I really do love you, you know. I’ve been scared to tell you, but I do.
I don’t know when it happened but it’s not going away.
I need you to know that. I need you to know that everything that’s happening between us, it’s real to me.
And it’s deep. And if things had been any different, I’d be planning how to propose to you. ”
Tears of happiness blur my vision. He didn’t shave this morning, and his rugged look tingles my insides. Suddenly I’m eager to be back home.
He takes me back under his arm, Calla leading, puppies in tow. “How would you propose?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips. I make myself comfortable, burrowing deeper under his arm as we walk slowly.
His chuckle brings a smile to my lips. “Ah… pressure. Let’s see.
I’d want to make it low-key so you wouldn’t see it coming.
I’d take you on a hike, maybe to the top of Mount Mansfield, or down to Emerald Lake when the ice breaks, or when the foliage turns.
Get us a nice picnic. Maybe a tent, make it a weekend thing.
Build a bonfire just for the two of us and propose at sunset. ”
“Not sure you can build a bonfire on Mount Mansfield.”
He pulls lightly on my hair. “See, in this scenario I’d have time to do my research—”
“—and you wouldn’t have your know-it-all wife shoot down your ideas because she wouldn’t be your wife yet.”
“Wasn’t going to go there, but… you said it.” He ruffles my hair.
“Well aren’t you glad I’m already your wife? No planning forbidden activities and getting in trouble with the park rangers.”
“I’d get in trouble with way more than the park rangers for you. And yes, I’m glad you’re my wife, though ‘glad’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. We didn’t get there the usual way, but I wouldn’t have it any different.”
My chest tightens with emotion—because he sees me as his real wife; because his feelings go way beyond friendship and gratitude; because he loves me—all I can manage to say is, “We got a Phish concert out of it.” I was never meant to have the fairytale wedding anyway—I always knew that.
“Damn right we did.”
Our footsteps bring us to the park, and the smell of freshly cut grass brings memories of careless ball games and lying under a tree reading all day. The simple pleasures of childhood, enjoyed only here, in Emerald Creek—my harbor, my home.
We naturally end up at the bench where we’d sat during Colton and Kiara’s wedding. Calla ambles to the river, the more adventurous puppy tumbling out of the wagon to follow her.
I kick my shoes off, the grass soft and cool under my feet.
“So…” Noah leans back, his arm on the back of the bench, almost but not quite touching me. “You only agreed to marry me because it was fake,” he states. “Which leaves me with only one option.”
Before I can say anything, he’s on one knee, holding my shoe. “Willow Fontaine, will you marry me for real, right here, right now, with Calla as our witness?” He takes my ankle in his hand, places my shoe at the tip of my toes.
I’m caught between laughter and tears of joy.
My throat tightens and my heartbeat falters at the magnitude of what’s happening: Noah’s feelings are marriage-deep.
He wants me as his wife. As in, forever.
In sickness and health. Til death do us part.
“Our witness is rolling herself on a sandbar,” I drop, too choked up to say anything deep.
His gaze darkens. He slips the shoe on my foot, slides his hand up my calf, behind my knee, up my thigh.
Straightening himself, he brings my foot to his shoulder and leans in for a kiss.
“Is that a yes?” His voice is deep with raw emotion.
He kisses me softly, his tongue gently parting my lips, his hand under my dress grasping my ass.
“I promise to cherish you always and…” He huffs, his forehead gently touching mine, then continues in a whisper.
“God, Willow… I don’t know what else to say.
I don’t have the words. That should tell you something,” he says, laughing softly, “but I can’t imagine a life without you. I want this marriage to be real.”