Chapter 32
Willow
Ispent the night curled around Wyatt, smoothing the hair from his face as he tossed and turned.
But when I woke up to the sound of ceramic shattering downstairs, he still hadn’t fully roused.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched.
At first, I thought it was Harlow fumbling around while making her morning cup of coffee, but then I heard more voices—a very distinct sort of clamor that occurred only when the café was open.
“What the . . . ?”
I hastily dressed, yanked my hair up into a messy bun, and stumbled downstairs.
Perplexed, I took in the sight of a very open café: Avery bustled from table to table, delivering orders, Iris worked the register, and Jordyn bussed tables while Randy and Dean took photos with excited tourists on the front stoop.
My eyes fell to Harlow, who was working the espresso machine with all the skill of a concert pianist. “What’s going on?”
“What do you think?” she replied with a grin. “We’re running the café so you don’t lose revenue.”
“But . . .” I looked at Eloise, who was restocking the cabinet. Billy emerged from the back with a steaming tray of clean mugs, and Ramona was restocking the kids’ craft corner, when something caught my attention. “How did they all get staff T-shirts?”
“Agnes has a screen printer,” Harlow said with a shrug.
My eyes welled with a surprising surge of tears.
“Why don’t you go have a long bath,” Avery offered. “I’ll run some breakfast up.”
I nodded as I sniffed back my tears. It was a wild realization to know that there were people in my life who would jump in whenever I needed them—and that the number far exceeded what I’d first thought.
The entire town of Maple Hollow seemed to be saying, “We see you. We’ve got you. We won’t let you fall.”
It wasn’t until the last customers stumbled out and the floors were swept that the others let me perch on a barstool for their post-work chatter.
“I didn’t mean to stab him!” Eloise exclaimed, clearly exasperated as the others tsked. “I was aiming for Gregory.”
“What did the pack end up doing with him, anyway?” Avery asked.
Dougall sighed. “We sent him to my cousin’s pack out in the Pacific Northwest to be part of a toxic masculinity rehabilitation program run by a wolf named Leaf.”
“Killing him would’ve been the kinder fate,” Agnes said with a snicker.
“So, are we going to have to reenact an accidental werewolf stabbing every year at the Halloween Festival now?” Ramona asked.
Billy shook his head. “I told them the scene didn’t make the cut. It’s not as jaunty as a pumpkin-headed monster throwing their own head at a vampire in a graveyard.”
Randy shrugged. “It was a showstopper.”
The banter suddenly halted, and the hairs at the back of my neck prickled. “What?”
Everyone’s eyes drifted over my right shoulder, and I turned so quickly that I almost fell over.
There stood Wyatt, his eyes already fixed on mine, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Can I talk to mate, please?” he asked the room without breaking eye contact with me. “Alone?”
“You heard the man,” Billy said with a clap. “Everyone out.”
I practically levitated into Wyatt’s arms. He laughed as he stroked my hair, his other arm holding me to him just as fiercely.
“I’m alright,” he said, his words muffled in my hair.
I was faintly aware of the others leaving as he backed us into the stairwell, obscuring us from view. “Are you sure?” I whined, my tears wetting his hoodie. “We could call the witches back and—”
“I’m sure,” he soothed, kissing the top of my head.
“Good.” I sniffed. “Because we are getting married in two weeks.”
“I think it’s time for a change, Willow,” he murmured, and I pulled back to meet his gaze. “I want you to have the proposal and wedding you deserve. I want you to have everything. We don’t need to bow to the pressure of the pack and rush this for their sake. Let’s do this slow.”
“And what if I don’t want slow?”
“I want to give you everything you want, Willow.”
“And what if I want a kooky, slapped-together-in-two-weeks wedding. Would you want that too?”
His lips hitched. “Are you saying that just for my benefit?”
I shook my head. “What if I’ve never dreamed of a fancy wedding or a grand proposal or a slow relationship? The only thing I’ve ever dreamed of, Wyatt, is you. Being with you. I want you to be my husband.”
With every word, his smile tugged wider until he was beaming at me. He cupped my face in his hands. “I love you.” His throat bobbed as he brushed a soft kiss to my lips. “Do you know that? Do you know how deeply in love with you I am?”
“I do,” I replied softly, lifting on my toes to kiss him again. “I love you too. Marry me?”
“Wait.” He tapped his pocket and fished out a small box.
My mouth fell open. “You just happened to have that?”
“This little box has been burning a hole in my pocket for longer than I care to admit,” he said sheepishly. “It was my Grandmother Sullivan’s moonstone, and it’s been placed in a new setting made from my father’s wedding band.”
He opened the box, and I gasped. “Wyatt, it’s beautiful.”
“The band is thin enough that it won’t get caught in any machinery at the café, and the stones are flush to not get snagged on clothing or cleaning rags.”
I skated my fingers over the ring in awe. “Wow, you’ve really thought of everything.”
“Because the moment this ring is on your finger, I never want you to have an excuse to take it off,” he replied with a grin.
“Willow, I’ve wished you were mine for four years.
You are the bravest, kindest, smartest, and most beautiful and infuriatingly stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and I could think of nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I croaked, wiping a stray tear as he slid the ring onto my finger. “This is so perfect. I know whatever the wedding looks like, it’ll be perfect too.”
“But how exactly are we going to pull it off in two weeks?”
Just as the last words fell from Wyatt’s lips, my eyes landed on Agnes, who was lingering by the café door.
She gave us a wicked smile and strode out to the stoop, shouting, “Okay, people! We’ve got a wedding to plan!”