Chapter 24
Elijah
She's beautiful, and I'm annoyed.
Actually, I’m past annoyed. I’m hovering between pissed off, quietly turned on, and one wrong comment away from committing a felony.
This meal needs to end. Soon.
The fact that we’re stuck doing this in a public place, where I have to sit still, smile politely and pretend I’m not imagining far better ways to spend my time, only makes it worse.
“Oh, Elijah, I forgot to ask. How was the holiday with Rose the other month?”
I turn my head slowly to Olivia, her plastic smile aimed straight at me. I honestly don't know how Peter, her husband, lives with it.
Then again, I’m a hypocrite. I stayed with Rose far longer than I should have. I had my reasons—some valid, some painfully stupid—but sometimes you convince yourself that enduring the nonsense is just part of loving someone.
“Didn't you ask Rose?”
There's no way, after all the spa weekends and cocktail nights, that the holiday hasn't been spoken about. Either Rose has been bragging about the men she's been sleeping with behind my back, or she's been painting a very convincing picture of a perfect marriage.
“I did,” Olivia replies lightly, arching a perfectly shaped brow as she takes a delicate sip of her wine. “But I’d rather hear how it was for you.”
Yeah, it could be either one.
I catch Willow glancing at me, deliberately ignoring Blake, who's practically undressing her with his eyes from where he sits next to her. I have to resist the very real urge to haul him out of his chair and far away from her. I’m beyond tired of watching him flirt, reach for her hand, and act like he's entitled to her attention.
Every part of her feels like it belongs to me.
She and Quinn showed up late because they got themselves stuck inside a house they broke into, hiding under a bed while two women fucked each other above them.
River filled me in—apparently, Willow was live-updating him through the entire ordeal.
Before that, I’d been seconds away from marching out to find her after she hung up on me.
I shouldn't find any of it funny.
Especially not after seeing the slightly shell-shocked look on her face when she walked in. Quinn, on the other hand, looked far too entertained by the whole thing.
I rub a hand over my chin. “It was… eye-opening.”
Rose stiffens, her jaw tightening, but I don't care. I’m not about to lie and paint it as some romantic getaway. I’m also not about to air everything out here.
Not because I owe Rose anything—but because my son deserves a proper conversation about why his parents are divorcing, and it's not happening in front of these three idiots and an audience.
“Is that good?” she asks, Peter's hand resting over hers as he continues to be the only one actually eating.
I shrug. “Let's just say Rose had a banging time.”
A snort escapes Quinn before she can stop herself. Willow nudges her, but I catch the way she sucks in her lips, trying and failing not to laugh.
She told Quinn.
I’m almost certain of it. And honestly? I don't mind.
Ezra knows, too, not because I sat him down and told him word-for-word, but because he's perceptive enough to read between the lines. He didn't need the details to understand what was happening.
If Willow needs someone to share the burden of this secret so it doesn't weigh heavily on her chest and consume her, then I’m fine with that.
What's happening between us is forbidden.
Wrong, by most people's standards.
Even though I never brought her up, no one would see it that way. They'd jump to conclusions, paint me as something I’m not, twist it into a story that suits them.
If this were a fling, I’d end it now. Cut it off before it has a chance to grow teeth and ruin everything.
But Willow isn't a fling.
She became more than that the moment she moved in, and I found her in her room, her hatred directed toward me. She's more than I expected—more than I planned for.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped being just Willow… and started being the best part of my day.
She's not a mistake.
She's my peace.
My happiness in such a short amount of time.
Olivia smiles. “Wonderful.”
I really hope she moves on from this conversation before Rose explodes.
Although it wouldn't be a bad idea if she did disappear from my life forever.
“Willow, your mother mentioned that you’re not currently enrolled in any form of education.”
Of course, she has. Rose can't keep her mouth shut about anything, especially if it's a chance to badmouth someone else.
Willow cuts a look at Rose, annoyance crossing her face. “Not that it's any of your business, but no.”
“Willow, don't be rude,” Rose cuts in sharply.
Her tone makes me freeze, every muscle in my body tightening. The way she speaks to Willow sets something dark coiling in my chest.
“Don’t go around telling other people about my personal life.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. I can't stop staring at her. She has a gravity about her; no matter how hard I try, I’m drawn in, tethered to her.
Olivia lets out a laugh, fake as her smile. “I’m so glad I don't have a girl. I hear they can be… difficult to raise.”
I bite my tongue, and a tinge of sadness washes through me.
Rose doesn't miss a beat. “Oh, believe me, I know. But River is a good boy, aren't you, sweetheart?”
He doesn't answer. Not that he can—he's too busy drooling over Quinn like she's the only person in the room.
Rose huffs, apparently unconcerned, and continues. “We've actually decided to expand our family, haven't we, darling?”
Her hand brushes my arm.
My chill skims over my skin, every nerve pulling taut. I force myself to stay calm, even if anger is all I feel.
What the fuck does she think she's doing?
Kids have never come up. Not once since she did the unthinkable. And the way Willow folds in on herself, shoulders stiffening, gaze sliding away toward that idiot Blake, makes me regret not telling River about his mother sooner.
“That's wonderful; let's just hope when you do, it's a boy.”
Quinn cuts in before I can move. “Maybe this time you can actually raise this one.”
Her timing is perfect because I’m seconds away from snapping Blake's fingers clean off.
He's twirling a strand of Willow's copper hair like he's got a right to touch her.
She keeps shrugging him off absentmindedly, too distracted by the way Rose and Olivia are practically taking turns insulting her to notice how close I am to losing it.
“I did raise my child.” Rose lifts her chin.
“And I’m straight,” Quinn replies instantly.
The table goes quiet. Every head turns to her. River actually looked hopeful for half a second.
She blinks innocently. “Sorry. I thought we were telling lies.”
This meal really should have happened at home.
Willow is shutting down, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.
Now even River is tuned in, green eyes bouncing between me, his mother, and his sister.
“You're gay?” Rose practically spits the words.
On top of every awful trait, homophobia is at the top.
“And proud.”
Rose doesn't pause. She leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Is that why she's here? She's your girlfriend?”
She doesn't even let Willow answer.
“That’s disgusting. I won't have my daughter with some woman who has a filthy mouth and works in a coffee shop.”
“Rose,” I snap, just as River tells her to stop, but she ignores us, eyes locked on the girls.
“Is this another thing your dad encouraged? It is, isn't it?”
I've never had the urge to actually throw someone off a cliff before, but Rose makes it so easy for those thoughts to drift into my mind.
Tears glint in Willow's eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. She shakes her head, rising with a fire that refuses to be ignored, anger and sorrow flashing across her face.
“My dad was ten times the person you are. He didn't give a single fuck who I was or what I did—he loved me despite it. You need to take a long, hard look in the mirror before you comment on other people's lives.”
I hold my breath, waiting for the moment she might drop the divorce bomb in front of River.
“And if I were with Quinn?” Her green eyes flare. “I wouldn't give a single fuck what you think. I don't value your opinion because you're nothing to me, and soon enough, you'll find yourself alone. A lot sooner than you think.”
She straightens, and I can’t stop the swell of pride that hits me. Quinn shoots her a proud grin and a cheeky wink. My chest swells; it’s a little ridiculous how much this woman makes me feel.
Willow storms off without giving anyone a chance to respond, her stride furious.
I can’t help but follow her with my eyes.
She wants to be alone, but that’s exactly what she doesn’t need.
I glance at Quinn and River, both looking as if they’re about to chase after her, and I clear my throat before standing up.
“I’ll check on her,” I say, ignoring Rose and the others as I focus solely on Willow.
The women's bathroom comes into view, and I push the door open, not caring if anyone else is inside. Relief washes over me when I see her. She's staring into the mirror, her hands gripping the bathroom sink.
“Elijah,” she sighs, voice soft but wavering. “I just want to be alone.”
My chest clenches, and all I want is to march back out there and make them pay for hurting her.
Instead, I stride over to her, slipping an arm around her waist. She doesn't pull away. I turn her gently toward me and pull her close, her head finding my chest, her hands clutching at me as if she's afraid to let go. She breathes me in, and I hold her tighter, letting her lean into me.
“I've got you,” I hum into her hair, my hand resting at the small of her back, keeping her anchored against me. And I do. Every inch of her, every quiet tremor, every breath—she's mine to protect, mine to hold, mine to make sure no one ever makes her feel small and not wanted again.
Her pretty green eyes lift to mine, lashes fluttering as her pupils darken. Her hands slide up to the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair as she gently pulls my mouth to hers.