by Susan Ward
“If you’re planning on grilling me again, can I at least know what I’m interviewing for? Spending another night with you? Or to be the man in your life? What?”
Color rushes her cheeks. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Who’s being secretive now? Women decide everything before they ever start anything.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is. But I’m thinking from your response it’s to be the man in your life. But you want to play it cool and not let on too much too early. So now that we’ve got that cleared up, to answer your question, I never tell you where I’m taking you because when I surprise you, you get a smile on your face that’s sexy as fuck. I want to spend the rest of my life putting that smile on your face.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eric
WILLOW STARES, HER EXPRESSION not what I anticipated unveiling her new and improved apartment. I can’t tell if she’s delighted, in shock, or something else. I’m not sure she’s hearing what I’m saying. I point to the new counters in the kitchen and explain why Ethan and I kept the original last-century tile as the backsplash.
“Across the entire kitchen this bold turquoise tile would be too much color, but the tile work is dramatic and makes a good focal point. At least my bro-in-law Jake thought so, and refurbishing historic buildings is what he does. If you don’t like it, we can have it changed.”
Leaning against the counter, I shove my hands deep in my pockets as I wait, rapidly trying to figure out if this is going well or badly.
“I would have never thought of that,” she says, but her voice is oddly devoid of emotion.
I tentatively smile. “Neither would I. I guess that’s why Jake is the expert at this. Do you want to see the rest of the apartment?”
She makes a slight nod.
I love seeing her happy.
Why isn’t she happy?
“Everything’s done except your old bedroom. I thought you’d prefer to do the work in there yourself.”
Her eyes dart to my face. “That was considerate of you. And you’re right. I do prefer cleaning it out myself.”
My face heats.
Is that it?
I’ve invaded a no-go zone for her. Damn. It never occurred to me that her history with her dad and the tangential role I played it in might make her not want me in here.
Fuck. “I was only trying to help you out, Willow. Speed up the process so you could rent out this place. Ivy seemed to think it was imperative. That you might lose your dad’s building without some extra money coming in soon. I thought I was helping. Sometimes I don’t think.”
Her features grow tauter. “I’m sorry. I must seem unappreciative and I’m not. You must have spent a pretty penny on contractors to get this done in a week. Though I’m sure the cost is a drop in the bucket to someone like you.”
Unappreciative?
Drop in the bucket?
Someone like you?
Oh no, those comments would have confirmed I’ve fucked up even if she hadn’t said them through clenched teeth. It also confirms I’ve muddled this and she’s gotten the wrong idea about the reno project.
“No contractors, Willow.” I hold up my hands, making my fingers wiggle. “Just these, and the matching set Ethan has. A few hundred YouTube videos and a lot of expert consultation by phone with my brother-in-law Jake. We did the work ourselves. Everything that was in this apartment we personally sorted and hauled up to the third-floor storage. We refinished the floors ourselves. Painted. Did the tile work. Everything. There’s a lot of my sweat in this remodel, in more ways than one. Every dime we put into this came from the money I’ve made the last two months singing on the sidewalk in front of Mel’s. I wanted everything in this place something I did for you.”
By the time I finish my speech, she looks even more overwhelmed and confused. Her lids are flared wide, her long inky lashes flat against her skin as she stares at the floor. “It’s staggering what you’ve done. Really. But why did you do this?”
“Don’t you know?”
She shakes her head.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Her face whips to mine.
“I’ve always loved you,” I explain. “When we were together the first time, after I left you, and every minute since then. But I know now that I didn’t love you as you deserved. And I sure as fuck didn’t understand how well you loved me. That what we shared with each other when we were twenty were different things. Yours were more valuable, only I was too dumb, or maybe arrogant, to know it. Your family worked hard for everything you gave to me. From taking me in, to helping me get back to LA for my meeting with the label, to the money you laid out trying to save my grandfather’s watch. You gave things of your heart and deserve something in return from my heart. I wanted to do this in a way to show you I now get it. And that I’m able to love you as you deserve, if you’ll let me.”
My heart is thumping so hard in my throat I almost can’t breathe. Her eyes are impossibly large. I can’t tell if she understands what I’m trying to tell her.
The minutes of her silence stretch my nerves. “This is your amends to me, right?” she murmurs softly, shattering the silence.
“Partly.”
“Partly? You mean there’s more?”
Shaking my head, I run my fingers through my hair. “No. This is it. I’ve got nothing left. The partly part was about this meaning something else as well.”
“Oh.” She still sounds baffled, but less remote.
“Come,” I direct, taking Willow by her hand. “Let me finish showing you everything Ethan and I did. You can decide later how you feel about this.”
I lead her from the kitchen, back through the living room she’s already seen, and into the bedrooms. First Jade’s. Then her dad’s. Then the newly remodeled bathroom.
Here and there I explain why we chose the alterations we did. She nods but doesn’t say anything. There’s only one last thing to show her. The laundry closet behind the slatted folding doors.
“This was my sister-in-law Avery’s idea,” I carefully inform her. “The stackable washer/dryer instead of the side by side. That if you have a tenant with kids, they’d appreciate having a sink and folding area in here. There isn’t much space, but we made it work.”
I can see her swallow. “That’s very thoughtful. Avery’s probably right. It’s a terrific addition.”
It’s a struggle to keep emotion from surfacing on my face. Why doesn’t it sound as if she thinks it’s terrific?
Willow and I stand facing each other, not touching. I wish she’d say something.
“You were forgiven before you showed me this,” Willow whispers. “You had me at I’m sorry.”
“Maybe forgiven by you, but not by me.”
Our eyes lock.
“It’s wonderful you kept the original windows and somehow saved them. It never occurred to me they could look so lovely. You could see the beauty of them when all I could see was another thing I had to figure out how to make work. Probably because you’re an artist.”
My pulse jumps. “I couldn’t always see the real beauty in things, but now I can. This past year has opened my eyes to a lot of things. This neighborhood. The people in it. This apartment. You.”
The smile I’ve been desperate for flashes on her face.
“Can I go back and look at everything again?’ she asks.
I let out the breath that’s been caught in me. Willow likes the apartment. “You lead. I’ll follow. Unless you want me to stay here.”
Her head briskly shakes, and she runs a hand across her cheek. Tears. God, let me be right that they’re happy tears.
“Stay close. Real close. I’m not over the shock yet. I might still faint.”
I move forward, slipping my arms around her. “Is this close enough?”
She shakes her head, her wispy black hair teasing my chin, the scent of her sending the blood rushing throu
gh me.
I tighten my arms. “Am I close enough now?”
She shakes her head, eases up on her toes, and kisses me.
WE’RE SWEATY AND limp, lying on the floor, my head resting on a pile of drop cloths we left in the apartment since Willow’s bedroom hasn’t been touched yet, and my bicep as her pillow.
“I wish we had logs. I’d love to have a fire in the fireplace and lie here until it’s completely dark,” Willow whispers.
I kiss her hair. “I wish I hadn’t forgotten blinds for the windows or drapes. I’m thinking we put on quite a show for that building across the alley.”
She jerks up, her face instantly red. “Oh my. I didn’t think of that.”
“I did.” I brush the wayward strands of black hair from her face. “But I was too far gone being seduced by you by the time I realized it.”
She rolls her eyes and tilts her head. “I seduced you?”
“Yep.” I nod, keeping a deadpan expression. “The thought of making love to you in here never even occurred to me.”
“No?” she scoffs playfully. “I kissed you once and the next thing I know my clothes are on the floor.”
“All part of your plan.”
She gives me an exasperated look.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says, pulling from my arms.
I pout. “Where are you going?”
Damn, she’s got my sweats in her hands. She’s going to get dressed. I’m not ready to stir yet.
I turn onto my side toward her. “Willow, come back to the floor,” I whisper, my voice low and husky. “I’m not done with you yet, baby.”
“Well, I’m done with you. For today.” She’s pulling on her shirt, her face blocked from view, and I can’t make out her expression.
Groaning, I lie back on the floor. “Was it something I said? Something I did? Or both?”
She laughs, a happy, tinkling-bells kind of sound.
I smile.
“Neither. We’ve been here all afternoon. I’m hungry.”
“Then we’ll go to dinner. Do you mind if I text my brother and see if they want to join us? I want you to meet Avery and Ethan. And my friend Hank.”
“It sounds wonderful. But can we do that another night? I need to get home. Get some rest. Mel’s doesn’t run itself and I’ve got a stack of things from last week that didn’t get done because I took a mini vacation from coming in. I’ve got to get to work early in the morning. Last week’s bank deposits haven’t even been made. And who knows how shabby Griff and Ivy have left our alcohol and food inventory? If I don’t place this week’s order on Monday I won’t have it before the weekend.”
It all sounds harmless enough, very much a Willow to-do list, only I’m frowning. “What’s wrong?”
She looks up from tying her sneakers, smiling. “Nothing.”
Nothing? Famous last words from a woman who runs every man into a ditch. Nope, not buying it.
“You going to tell me what’s really going on? Why you suddenly can’t get out the door and away from me fast enough?”
She looks nervous. “It’s not that.”
“What?”
“That I can’t get out the door fast enough.”
“Then what is it?”
Her brows are high on her forehead. “I told you. I need some time to myself. I’ve got a busy week ahead.”
Time to herself.
My stomach flips.
Something is bothering her. The question is do I keep pushing or let it go?
I reach for my pants. “Maybe we can have dinner with Ethan and Avery next week. It’s gotta be before Thursday. They’re going home then.”
She springs to her feet. “I’d like that. Monday night would be better than Tuesday or Wednesday. The bar’s closed on Monday.”
“Monday it is.”
I try to shake my uneasiness. She didn’t say not ever; she just said not today. But introducing her to my family sooner rather than later is important to me.
Fuck, maybe I’m overthinking this.
Once I’m dressed, I fish my keys from my pocket. “Can I at least drive you home?”
“Yes, Eric, you can drive me home.” She goes to the kitchen to turn off the lights. Outside the apartment, she bolts the locks. “You’ve made the apartment look so amazing I don’t know if I should move in or rent it. I almost don’t want tenants in it.”
“If they wreck it, I’ll fix it again.”
Her head tilts. “Will you?”
“If you want me to.” I kiss her nose.
She rushes down the hallway and opts for the stairs instead of the elevator. “What are you going to do tomorrow?” she asks over her shoulder.
“I haven’t really thought about it.” That’s a lie. I thought I’d be spending it with her.
“Your brother and Avery are here. It must be nice having time with them.”
“It’s terrific.” I’d like us to all have time together.
We go out the back of the building to the Aston Martin parked in the loading zone by her dumpsters. Fifteen minutes later, I’m parked in her driveway. Willow plants a fast kiss on my cheek. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
She’s out of the car and inside her house like the Flash. Yep, something suddenly made her want to put some space between us, and for the life of me, I don’t know what I did.
Chapter Thirty
Eric
I LEAVE SIMONE’S CAR with the valet and decide to go to Ethan’s room instead of my own. I’m feeling at a loose end now that I’m not with Willow, and that I’m not with her—or rather how it came about—is bugging me as well.
I rap once loudly on his door and wait. It’s 8:00 p.m., prime dining hour, and I hope they haven’t gone out. I’m feeling a little jumpy, uneasy, in a way I haven’t felt since I first left rehab, and I could use some company and Ethan’s level head to help me think a whole lot of junk through.
It feels like I’ve hit a brick wall with my amends being complete and my days of EJ the street musician being over. Those things gave me purpose, structure to my life. I don’t have either to focus on anymore and I’ve never thought about what’s next. Well, not out of the context of Willow, and even that I’ve not fully defined.
I raise my hand to knock again, then hear the bolt from the other side being unlatched. The door opens and there’s Ethan in pajama pants, looking like I’ve interrupted something. Fuck.
“Am I ruining your game? Do you want me to go away?”
Ethan rolls his eyes good-humoredly. “If you were, you’re a little late worrying about that now. You should have thought of that first. Sent a text. What’s going on?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until morning.”
He shrugs. “Your call. But we’re not doing anything. Avery’s just trying to get Noah down in his crib. He’s been fussy all night. She thinks he’s teething.”
He gestures me in and I follow him to the sitting room. My brows lift at the amount of junk in the room. Things for Noah. The coffee table covered by an open laptop, handwritten sheets of paper, an iPad, a tablet, and a small stack of books I’m certain belong to Avery. She works everywhere she goes. And on the floor by a chair, Ethan’s open guitar case and a black and white journal that looks exactly like the one I carry, where he scribbles down whatever comes into his head just like I do.
I sink down on the couch. “You working on new material?”
“Always. You got some free time tomorrow?” He’s rummaging inside a small drink fridge hidden inside a mahogany cabinet.
“Why?”
“Thought you might be up to finding some studio space somewhere. Can’t jam here. It’ll disrupt Noah’s nap schedule and Avery working.” He holds up a chilled bottle of mineral water. “My material doesn’t come as fast as when we used to collaborate. I’m starting to find my stride, but I thought it might help to go jam somewhere and see what we can do.”
Ethan reaches into the fridge, grabs a beer for himself, and sits in the chair across from me. “What’s going on?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
The corners of his mouth turn downward. “Thought you were going to be tied up with Willow all day.”
“I was, now I’m not.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling fidgety. “Have you guys eaten? Do you want to go grab dinner?”
“I’ll ask Avery once she’s done with Noah.”
For a while we sit there, drinking and not talking, Ethan studying me while I try to sort out a few things. Restless, I get up and start poking through his guitar case. Inside the lid he’s taped a collage of pictures of Noah and Avery.
I look over my shoulder at him. “You’ve got a good-looking family, Ethan.”
“They’re my thing. Best gig I’ve ever had.” I hear his beer being set down on a table. “Do you miss it?”
“What?”
“The band? Being on the road? I don’t know, fucking everything.”
I turn on my haunches until I’m facing him. “No. Do you?”
His head makes slightly visible shakes. “No, I don’t. But I didn’t love it the way you did. The fame. The screaming fans. Having that high from music you can only get from a live audience. You were born to be on stage, Eric. I was born for the way I’m doing it now, I think. I’m more like Mom. Less like Dad. It must be hard for you not being in the spotlight anymore. It’s all right to talk about it, if it is.”
“Nah. Nothing to talk about.” I grab his guitar, sink to sit on the ground, and start absently playing. “You took this from Dad, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t recognize it, but I sure can feel it.”
Words take shape in my head all on their own. Closing my eyes, I start to silently mouth them. “Look inside your heart. You don’t have to be afraid. If you reach into my soul, your sorrows…” I blink and open my eyes. “Fuck, went away.”
Ethan laughs. “Still sounded good.”
I carefully set down his guitar against the chair. “Dad just lets you take his instruments?”