Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I knew I had a pattern. I was the one caught in the damn thing. And that was how I could say with unshakable certainty that Willow wasn’t a part of the old pattern. She was something entirely new. “She’s not going to be gone in three,” I repeated, unable to explain it any other way.
Dana let her arms fall back to her side. After a moment, she nodded. “Good. Great. Then…I guess I’ll drive to Venice one day to meet her. Not today, though,” she added quickly.
I thought about the conversation with my sister on the way home. Willow and I had been doing whatever the hell it was we were doing for three months, and the only living thing in her life she’d introduced me to was Camper. I knew a collection of names, but I couldn’t put them with faces because I’d never seen them. And I knew her mom had been back in town for a month, but Willow hadn’t once mentioned introducing us.
When I got home, Willow was already in the kitchen. She wasn’t cooking, thank God. She had tried once or twice, and then we’d agreed to leave it to me. She was sitting at one of the barstools, a glass of water to the right of her laptop, a frown pulling down her pretty mouth.
“Do I need to beat anyone up?” I asked, kissing her.
Her lips curved up beneath mine. “Just Miller.”
“Finally, a good reason.” I shrugged off my jacket and loosened the knot of my tie. Willow held out her hand, and I gave it to her. She was determined to learn how to do a Full Windsor knot, but somehow, it was as elusive as her cooking skills.
“How are the guys?” she asked, mangling the tie while I pulled the pork chops I’d been marinating all day out of the refrigerator.
“Great.” I pre-heated the oven and turned around to face her. I folded my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter. “Why don’t you come out with us next week? I think some of the wives are coming.”
Willow looked up from the tie. “Some of the wives,” she repeated, her lips quirking up in the corners.
I ignored the obvious implication–that she didn’t fit the bill. “You’d like them,” I said instead.
“Probably, if they’re all as nice as Destiny.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Umm.” Willow’s mouth pulled down in one corner. “I don’t know. Is that a good idea?”
“I don’t know, Laurier. Is it really the end of the world if we’re seen together?”
“It’s not the end of the world, but I don’t know if it’s great for me.” She left it at that. She’d already explained her fears about people not taking her seriously, assuming she only got jobs because she was fucking the head of Lewis Productions. Her future achievements being overshadowed by those same whispers. I knew the ones she meant. They were vicious and nasty, but I was getting sick of them running our lives. I wanted to be able to take the woman I was falling in love with out to dinner. I wanted to introduce her to my friends and family.
But I was getting the feeling that Willow didn’t want the same thing.
“How about I meet your friends instead then?” I asked, switching tactics.
“Sure,” Willow agreed readily. “My best friend Cara is having a themed dinner party next weekend. Alice in Wonderland. Want to go with me?”
My lip curled before I could stop it, and Willow burst out laughing. “It’s okay. I don’t want to go to a VIP rooftop bar as much as you don’t want to dress up like the Cheshire cat and drink cheap gin.” She gave up on the tie and folded it neatly instead, setting it down on the edge of the counter and sliding off the stool. She walked across the kitchen and slipped her arms around my waist. “I like having you to myself,” she murmured, looking up at me through her lashes. “Is that so bad?”
“I like having you to myself, too.” I pulled her closer so she could feel how much. I ended up putting the pork chops in and setting the timer and then following her upstairs to my bedroom. It was good. It was always so damn good that it drove everything else out of my head. But later, while we were eating outside, I thought about it again.
“I’d like to meet your parents,” I said, gambling with the plural. She’d mentioned her mom often enough, but she’d only mentioned her dad once or twice, and her eyes always slid away like she’d sooner not be talking about him at all. I’d gleaned that he wasn’t in her life much. He had another family. She had a half-sister she barely knew.
“You could meet my mom,” Willow offered hesitantly. “My dad isn’t…”