29. PRESENT DAY – March #2
“Because I love you, Willow Hale. You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had, the most beautiful heart I’ve ever felt, and every morning I wake up, I can only hope to wake to you.
Thinking of a single day without you in my life is physical torture.
” He takes my other hand, careful not to knock over the candle.
“There was a time where I didn’t even want to live till tomorrow, and now I don’t ever want this life with you to end. ”
Overwhelmed tears roll down my cheeks, emotion that I can’t conceal. Emotion that I don’t try to hide.
He keeps going, his voice choked, on the verge of crying. “I want to play Street Fighter when we’re too old to work the fucking controllers, and I want our kid to beat every high score we set. I want my girl, my greatest friend, to be the mother of my child, and to be my wife.”
His wife.
He lets go of my hands, and my palms fly to my mouth.
Garrison.
I watch as he scoots his chair back.
“Garrison?” I croak.
Is he…?
I glance around, but of what I can see in the dim restaurant, no one is filming. People are watching, but no one has cameras out…or phones.
He planned this. He must have.
He planned this for me? For us.
“Willow.” He takes a knee in front of my chair.
I’m still in tears, still stunned, and I angle towards him.
Garrison reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a black box. He wipes the wet corners of his eyes and flips the lid. “Will you do the biggest honor of my whole existence and marry me?” His voice trembles.
I cry, pinching my eyes, and I nod and say, “Yes.” And then we’re in each other’s arms. Hugging. He brings me to a stance, to his chest, and our lips meet with so much soul and life and love that I feel like I’m soaring.
When we pull back, he slips a dainty ring on my finger, a diamond on a thin gold band with six tinier diamonds scattered like a vine. It’s beautiful, but I don’t have the chance to tell him.
Rouged curtains open behind me, and I hear applause and cheering before I see them.
My family.
Lo and Ryke. My dad. And Connor, Rose, Lily, and Daisy. My friends Sheetal and Tess. They’re all here. Smiling. Crying.
I’m more overcome with more happiness. Seeing so many faces I love in one room. One place. In London.
I don’t let go of Garrison’s hand as I greet everyone.
I’m engaged.
To my guy, my greatest friend, to the someday father of my child, to my whole, beautiful future. It’s going to be full of him.
* * *
Pizzas are spread out in a fancy, private backroom of Lola Vine, where my family and friends had been hiding and waiting for Garrison to pop the big question.
What I quickly discover: the proposal was months in the making. Which means he knew he wanted to marry me months ago.
He asked me to marry him. It’s still sinking in.
My face hurts from smiling.
Everyone managed to keep the secret to surprise me, and I still feel light-on-my-toes, floating and butterflies flapping—like I’m seventeen again with Garrison Abbey, about to embark on my first day at Dalton Academy.
And he’s next to his car, waiting for me.
The night is winding down, pizzas devoured and a towering meringue pie picked on. I already asked Daisy to be my maid of honor. I blurted it out, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she hugged me. Instantly accepting the role.
Rose and Lily were each other’s maids of honor, and Daisy never had a sister place her at the top. But she’s number one on my list.
After I say goodbye to Sheetal and Tess, I take a bathroom break with the Calloway sisters, and Garrison and Connor slip into the men’s room.
All should be perfectly well and good, but when we return to the backroom to grab coats, the air isn’t easygoing or happy like we left it.
Lo and Ryke face our dad, all three on their feet and wielding heated glares and tense postures.
And as their eyes swerve to me, descending upon me with hot intimidation, I know what this has to be about. It’s the only thing I can think of that’d elicit this intense reaction.
The lie.
My bad deed.
Years ago, I accepted Jonathan Hale’s money to bribe students into deleting video footage of Garrion’s fight with Salvatore, and I never told my brothers.
Every butterfly dies in my lungs, wings cut.
Garrison slips an arm around my waist. He’s right next to me, but I have a feeling he won’t be for long.
Rose is the first to speak. “What’s going on?” Her voice is accusatory, like they’re harbors of grave news on my celebratory day, and therefore, should be punished.
But it’s my fault, for not telling them the truth in the first place.
“We need to talk to our sister,” Lo says, his amber eyes still on mine. He seems really upset, and remorse eats at my insides.
Ryke adds, “In private.”
I’m frozen, but I try to breathe.
My dad has a hand on his side, standing like he’s made of importance and prestige. “If you’re not a Hale by blood, you should go wait in the cars. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“I’m not leaving,” Garrison retorts. “If this is about Willow—”
“She can talk to you later,” Lo interjects. “We won’t be that long.”
Garrison’s eyes fall down to me while Rose and Connor speak rapidly in fiery and smooth French to one another, filling the silence. Daisy and Lily are holding hands, and they exit the backroom first, but not before Daisy mouths to me, you got this.
She has no idea what I’m about to face or the truth I withheld, but she’s still encouraging me. Still has faith in me. I breathe in, and I look up at Garrison. “I’ll be okay.”
He studies my expression and my trembling hands that I cup together. His palm glides down my wrist, to my hand, in tender comfort that floods me.
“I can stay,” he whispers, and then pauses, our eyes latching like he, too, knows what this is probably about. “I should stay.”
My brothers don’t want him to. I whisper back, “I think I should do this on my own.” I’m anxious by nature, but I’m not as nervous in the company of these three men as I used to be.
At the beginning, just being face-to-face with my dad, I could barely hold a drink without water shaking and spilling out.
Ryke and Lo aren’t soft, but they love me, and I know they wouldn’t hurt me, even when I’ve hurt them.
Garrison hugs me, then stakes a glare on the room. “I know she’s your sister, and your daughter.” He looks to my dad. “But just remember I’m going to be her husband. So you fuck with her, you’re dead to me.”
Ryke rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to fuck with our sister.”
“We get it,” Lo tells Garrison. “Skedaddle.” He waves him off with two running fingers.
It lightens the air a little, and Garrison leaves the private backroom with one last glance at me, making sure I’m alright.
I nudge up my glasses with a tiny smile.
Connor and Rose reluctantly follow my boyfriend—or I guess, my fiancé. We’re engaged . And on her way out, Rose grabs her fur coat and squeezes my shoulder with an iron grip.
Now I’m alone with just my older brothers and my dad. I linger awkwardly at one head of the table while they’re clustered near the other end. A few half-eaten slices of margherita pizza are left on plates, napkins wadded on the long candlelit surface. Remnants of a happy engagement dinner.
I subconsciously touch the new piece of jewelry on my finger.
And three sets of eyes drop to my engagement ring.
Tension strains the air even more.
Ryke rakes a hand across his unshaven jaw. “Look, we’re not going to ruin your fucking engagement. We just want an explanation.”
“I want to give one,” I say quietly, “but I don’t know what you’ve heard…?”
Lo grips the back of a velvet chair. “Our dad said he gave you a hundred grand, so that you could get a bunch of students to delete some video of Garrison sucker-punching another kid. And I get wanting to keep your boyfriend’s shitty night out of the press.
We’ve all been there. Too many goddamn times.
But out of everyone you could have gone to for help—your first choice was him .
” His brows pinch in hurt and confusion.
“I know you’ve always said you want to do things on your own.
You don’t want handouts. But what you took was a handout from our dad, and I don’t see why you trusted him more than us. ”
“We would’ve fucking helped you,” Ryke says strongly, gesturing from his chest to Lo’s.
I shift my weight, trying to hold their hard and sharp gazes. “I know you would’ve.”
Our dad narrows a jagged-edged look on his sons. “Give her a fucking break. I’m her father. She came to me for help. I helped her. You’re both blowing this shit out of proportion.”
Eyes darkened, Ryke guns him down. “Don’t stand there and act like your handouts don’t come with selfish fucking conditions. ”
He chokes on a hot breath. “What conditions? All I’ve ever wanted was for her to go to an Ivy League—not some no-name business school in London —but did you hear me complain about it?
No ,” our dad snaps. “I applauded and sent her on her way and helped her stay there. And then when she called me needing my help again, I did with no questions asked.”
Ryke is fuming. “What about the internship with the Nubell family she took last summer? Did she want to do that or did you push her there?”
He pushed me.
I drop my gaze, ashamed.
Nubell cookies are almost as popular as Kraft and Keebler, and I spent the summer running errands for Patrick Nubell, the great-great-grandson of the company. It was a good opportunity, just not the one I really wanted.
I had the chance to intern for a big comic book publishing company in New York. Mostly due to the fact that I was related to Loren Hale, not based on my skill or resumé. I know that, but I still would’ve accepted.
In the end, I had to decline.
My dad was adamant that I take the Nubell internship. “I pulled these strings for you, Willow. It wasn’t easy.”
“She wanted that internship!” our dad shouts at Ryke. “It was a perfect experience for her future—”
“For the future you want for her!” Ryke yells.
“I want the best for my daughter,” he sneers back, eyes like blades. “I want the best for you and Loren. I want the best for my fucking children, and you’re not going to make me apologize for that!”
“Stop,” Lo snaps at them, often having to play peacemaker between his dad and brother.
He steps between their rigid builds and focuses on me.
“The one thing that just doesn’t make sense to me, Willow, is that Ryke and I could’ve helped you so many times and you said no or you didn’t ask when you needed it.
Not just with burying that video footage, but tuition and even your flat, back when you wanted out of the lease.
You didn’t let us help you, so why accept our dad’s help but not ours? ”
Ryke faces me more now, his brows furrowed. He wants this answer too, and I know it’s the biggest one.
What changed that made me go to Jonathan and not to them.
Emotion stings my eyes. “I never wanted to burden any of you.” I wipe beneath my glasses.
“I never wanted to come into your lives taking more than I should. You all know that; I’ve said as much before.
But I needed the money to protect Garrison, and when I had to make a choice to burden a father or a brother, I decided to burden a father.
” A tear slips out, and I look to Lo. “You’ve taken care of me since I came to Philly, even before I knew Jonathan was my dad—but you have two children, Lo.
You have a son and a daughter, and maybe one day you’ll have more babies, and they’re going to need your help and your support too.
And the way I saw it, I couldn’t take from you or Ryke because everything I take could go to your kids. ”
Their gazes try to soften, and I see their sadness.
“I’m not your child,” I continue on. “I’m his. ” I motion to Jonathan. “And he has less on his plate than both of you.” He’s retired. His sons are grown up and financially independent. It made the most sense.
If they thought I went to our dad because I love him or trust him more, it’s almost the opposite.
I love Lo and Ryke and their families too much to ask for more.
Lo’s jaw sharpens. “I wish you didn’t feel like that.” He comes closer as I sniff, and my brother hugs me, a hug that slows my anxious heartbeat.
As we pull back, I wipe my running nose with my knuckles. “You’ve done everything for me, and it’s okay that you let our dad do this.”
Lo nods a few times, understanding, but Ryke looks more concerned. He’ll always be worried about Jonathan having control over my life. Over Lo’s life, too.
But maybe it’s good that they both know about the hundred grand. Maybe I should’ve told them so much sooner. Because the way they turn to our dad, I know they’ll never let him dictate where I go or what I do. No matter how many checks he writes.