Chapter 41 Willow #2
What does she think she’ll be doing? She has no say on this. It’s a done deal. Noah is married, and he keeps control.
Grace stands from her seat while Cheyenne removes my toe splitters. “I wonder how long she’s planning on staying,” she sighs.
Wild guess? Until Noah’s birthday, and a little longer.
My treatment done, I take care of tips and hand my card to Grace at reception. Her smile freezes as the front door chimes, cool air sweeping in a few dead leaves… and a beautiful blonde.
Pursing her lips, Gail steps inside.
“Mrs. Callaway, we didn’t expect you so early,” Grace says, her smile forced. “Fabrizio will get you settled in.”
Fabrizio waltzes in. “Ah Gail, Gail, Gail, you are more beautiful each time!” He envelops her in air kisses. “Seriously—you have to tell me your secret,” he adds as if she were the only person in the room. “What are we doing today?” he asks, coaxing her toward the dressing room.
Turning to me, Grace says, “You’re all set, sweetheart. Noah already called to settle for you.”
Gail sets her cold, assessing glare on me. “The apple never falls far from the tree, does it? Your mother must be proud of you. You leveled up.”
The words hit me like a slap. Years suffering Marcy’s lifestyle, rejecting my own mother so I could save myself? Still people look at me and see a price tag.
Behind her back, Fabrizio rolls his eyes and makes heart hands for me. But his clowning can’t calm the tremor inside me.
Gail turns to Grace. “Definitely Pretty Woman vibes. You should choose your clientele more carefully.”
My stomach twists. Pretty Woman. Does she even know what I had to go through to not be Pretty Woman? Or in my case, Pillow?
“Your mom got you all wrong. You’re not Weeping.” My new stepfather stands behind me as through the dirty window I watch Mom climb into a cab. His stench alone repulses me. “You’re Pillow.”
His hands land heavy on my shoulders. “You know what a pillow is?” His fingers dig into my bones. “It’s something you sleep with.”
The room spins, and I have to hold onto the register. I was smart and strong enough to escape him, back then. And while Mom later pretended I’d misunderstood, she sent me back to Emerald Creek and Aunt Angela. Then why is this insult hurting so much that I’m left speechless?
Grace pales. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she tells Gail, her voice cold as ice. “We can’t fit you in.”
All I can focus on are Gail’s red nails digging into her crossed arms. My head pounds.
“Grace, it’s okay,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not. We’re the Bitch Brigade,” she tells me, eyes shiny. “We don’t just stand by when one of us is down.”
My voice is thin as air. “But I’m not…”
Gail flicks her nails impatiently, and Grace turns to me. “You go on,” she tells me softly, an apology she doesn’t need to give in her eyes. “You don’t need to be here for this.”
Cheyenne breezes out with a grin. “I’ll tell you how it goes,” she teases, miming like she’s eating popcorn.
But my feet are leaden.
Her face now cold as stone, Grace turns to Gail. “We don’t tolerate this.”
Gail hisses. “This what?”
“Grace, don’t worry about it,” I plead quietly. “It’s fine. Really.”
“It’s my place of business and this is how I run it,” she answers me firmly. “Like I said, the Bitch Brigade has got your back.” Turning to Gail, she says, “Not your kind of B. Your patronage is no longer welcome here.”
Gail’s nostrils flare and her eyes throw daggers. “You’ll regret this,” she spits. “By next year this town will be very different. You’ll be begging me to come back.” She turns on her heel, slamming the door on her way out.
“The hell did she mean, by next year?” Cheyenne mutters, hugging me as Grace plants herself at the window.
I relax a bit in her embrace and shrug like I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Despite Grace’s awesome support, my stomach is in knots.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… Pretty Woman vibes… You’ll regret this.
After Grace assures me Gail is gone, I leave, feeling like shit.
Ashamed. Unworthy.
“How was it?” Noah sneaks in on me in that adorable way of his, wrapping his flannel-clad arms around me and giving me the squeeze I need.
I’m outside on the patio, adding logs to the firepit so we can eat al fresco while the dogs run around.
My breath stupidly stutters. I shouldn’t let this affect me, but I can’t help it.
“You okay, babe?” he asks, feeling my emotion.
“The spa was awesome.” I let my head fall on his solid chest, already feeling rooted. Supported. Tilting my head up to him, I add, “Thank you for taking care of everything. That was very sweet of you.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, sweet Willow. I don’t say thank you enough to you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Oh enough with the niceties,” he growls, clasping me tighter against him. “What’s wrong?”
I let out a huff. How does he know? “Honestly, nothing’s wrong anymore.
Don’t mean to be all lovey-dovey gooey, but it’s true.
” I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck.
I do feel much lighter. Stronger. I kiss him softly, then take his glasses off and massage the bridge of his nose. “How was your afternoon?” I ask.
“Nuh-huh. You’re not getting off so easy.” He boops me, then trails a kiss down my neck.
I tilt my head back, breathing in the crisp fall air.
Maple and elm leaves fall softly to the ground.
Chipmunks and squirrels rustle loudly around, burying acorns in places they’ll forget.
“I’ll tell you what happened, but first—this is what I love about fall.
It’s the season of letting go. Of forgetting certain things.
Of letting other things die so they can be reborn differently. ”
“O-kay?”
I take a cleansing breath and tell him what happened with Gail, feeling him tense against me. By the time I’m done, he’s vibrating with anger. “Season of letting go, babe,” I remind him.
“I don’t know if I want to let that go.”
“And yet you have to. The only real problem we have, is why is Gail here?”
“We can get to that later.” His gaze is stubborn, looking at something beyond me.
A raven croaks, giving me the nudge I need. “There’s something you should know,” I tell him, and this brings his gaze back on me. Funny how I was ashamed, but now I’m almost eager to tell Noah. He’ll understand me better once I’m over with it.
“What?”
“It’s true. My mother was a sex worker.”
He barely flinches and wraps me tighter against him.
“I should have told you. I just didn’t think it was—” important. I’m about to slip this under the carpet, as always.
Am I going to keep lying?
“I was ashamed to tell you.”
He kisses my forehead. “It’s your life, Willow. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” And god I love him even more for not saying how sorry he is and how awful it must have been. I don’t need his pity. Only his acceptance.
“It’s a part of my life I’d rather forget,” I admit. “It wasn’t easy.”
He holds my chin and searches my gaze. “It made you who you are. It was shitty, and painful, and I can see how it created a distance with your mom. But it’s over now.”
My breath stutters, but I want him to know more.
I want him to know everything about me. “When Gail was… insulting me…” I look at the gardens and find the courage to continue talking “…this memory came back to me out of the blue.” In as few words as possible, I tell Noah the danger I’d been in with my stepfather, what I narrowly escaped.
His eyes are full of danger, sadness, and revolt. He’s struggling to keep it together.
“I used to feel dirty for it,” I say. “But I don’t anymore. Fuck that. Right?”
Noah leans his forehead against mine. “I’m gonna need… a lot of time to process that. And I never want to be okay with it. But all I’ll say is… let me kill your pain with my love.”