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 gaz
e, 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.
30 PRESENT DAY – March
London, England
GARRISON ABBEY
Age 23
Last day in London before we fly back to Philly, and I’m still happily engaged to Willow. For a guy who’s certifiably cursed, that’s pretty much all I could ask for, and it’s a lot to ask because it’s all I want.
I accounted for some drama since I invited her dad to the engagement dinner, so no surprise there. But it’s not until his daughter is gone—at a brunch outing with all the Calloway sisters—that he decides to serve his shitty opinions.
And they’re all being flung on a gold platter at me.
“She hasn’t even graduated from college yet or begun a career,” Jonathan tells me in his penthouse suite, where he invited his sons, Connor, and me for lunch. “If you thought more about her academics, you would’ve waited. It’s too soon—”
“No, it’s not,” I retort, leaning backward. My instinct is to draw away from bullshit, not catapult towards a fight.
Connor just went to the bathroom to take a business phone call, but the rest of us are seated at an ornate round table that looks fit for the British royal family, and we have perfect views of the River Thames, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey.
Willow’s dad is loaded. The sheer wealth of this man is literally all around me, and I stare Jonathan Hale down as I add, “Willow and I already agreed to get married after she graduates.” She has to finish up this semester, and then she’ll be a senior.
One year and some months left. That’s it.
Piece of cake.
“You’re too eager, and you’re rushing her,” Jonathan criticizes as he dunks a biscuit in coffee. “Give her time.”
“Dad,” Lo says with the shake of his head.
Ryke glares at their father. “Why are you always speaking for Willow? She’s not fucking here, and if she were, we all know she wouldn’t agree with you.”
Jonathan ignores his son, his eyes on me. “You’re not thinking this through, Garrison.”
“I am,” I snap. “Last time I checked, I have a brain.”
“Use it then and let her have a fucking career first. If you’re lucky, she’ll still be around.”
Anger punctures my eyes. He’s saying that she might not want to marry me once she’s established a career. “Say that in front of Willow,” I sneer at Jonathan. He’d never utter half the vile shit he’s been spewing if his daughter were around.
He bites into a soggy biscuit.
I can’t shut my mouth. “Right.” I nod. “You’re a gutless fish.”
Ryke and Lo go rigid in shock.
And then Jonathan wipes his mouth with a napkin, his eyes lethal as he says, “You’re a fucking cunt.”
“Hey!” Ryke yells, gripping the table like he could flip it. “For fuck’s sake, he’s going to be your son-in-law, back the fuck off him.”
My hammering pulse is in my ears.
Jonathan stands, zeroing in only on me. “I’m not skirting around you, Garrison, and you should thank me for not patting you on the ass like a goddamn toddler.”
I let out a short, sardonic laugh. “Thank you, I’m just so grateful to hear that you think I rushed a proposal after I proposed only two days ago.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re a petulant child. Grow up.”
“Dad,” Lo snarls, and if looks could kill, Jonathan would be butchered in a million serrated pieces by Lo. But likewise, his glare is slaughtering his own son.
I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that. It scares the shit out of me, but my brain is shrieking, fuck him. “I am grown up. The only one kicking and screaming is you.”
He swings his head to me, about to eat me alive. “You ungrateful son of a bitch—”
“Jesus Christ, don’t fucking attack him,” Lo cuts in, springing to his feet while I stay tilted back in my chair like the degenerate I’m sure Jonathan thinks I am.
Lo blocks his dad from me, and Ryke is standing, sort of between me and his brother. I think in case either of us need him.
Jonathan is seething, glare skewering me. “He said he’s a man, Loren, so he should be able to talk to me man-to-man without you coming to his defense.” He continues, “Come on, Garrison. You’re all grown up, aren’t you? Show me.”
I grind my teeth, my stomach in knots, and my heated eyes sear the table. I’m shutting down, not wanting deeper in this shit.
I want out.
No part of me wants to prove how big of a man I am. I can’t prove shit to
him, so what’s the fucking point?
I push back, standing up from the table.
Ryke and Lo are speaking to their dad with heat and urgency, but he’s not listening to them.
“You’re leaving?” Jonathan calls out to me incredulously, like our joust has just begun. He shouts at me as I walk off. “Is that how you’ll be with my daughter? When the fight gets hard, you’re just going to run away?!”
I will always protect Willow, but I don’t need to convince anyone of that.
The hotel elevator is inside the penthouse, and as I reach my escape, Connor exits the bathroom, pocketing his cellphone. His eyes ping to me and then the echoes of Ryke, Lo, and Jonathan’s heated argument.
“I leave for five minutes,” he says calmly to himself, then sweeps me and then the elevator. “You’re going?”
I nod. “To brunch.” I’m crashing the girls’ thing. Willow won’t care.
“Wait here.” His soothing voice somehow hypnotizes me to obey. I wait at the elevator, and he disappears. Two seconds later, Ryke and Lo are in his company, their confident strides aimed for the elevator.
I make a confused face.
“We’re all going to brunch,” Connor informs me, pushing the elevator button. We don’t wait long for the doors to slide open, and the four of us file in.
I hang behind them. They’re all fucking tall, all towering, and the way they stand like a defensive brick wall—it feels like they’re shielding me. Paparazzi might be in the lobby. I think Connor is texting security.
But it’s more than that.
Ryke glances back at me. “You okay?”
I can only nod.
Lo looks back next.
Then Connor.
They’re all checking on me. And I have to stare at the elevator wall because something pricks my eyes. I blink a few times. Don’t fucking cry.
It’s okay to cry.
Lo told me that.
It’s okay to cry.
I look up at the ceiling, a tear rolling down my jaw. I’m not emotional because of anything Jonathan said.
Wherever You Are (Bad Reputation Duet Book 2) Page 26