The cemetery was old, with graves dating back earlier than the War Between the States. We parked on the blacktop road outlining the perimeter.
I opened the door and stepped out.
“What’d you do that for?” Liam complained. He circled the car to join me.
“What do you mean?”
“You should’ve waited for me to open the door for you. See the paparazzi?” He nodded toward a single-story family mausoleum that faced the tent erected over Willow’s open grave. Five photographers with varying lens lengths aimed in our direction. “They’re waiting for one of us to fuck up.”
“At a funeral?”
“Anywhere. Welcome to my life. I’m going to step up security. Usually, I only make news when partying with Hollywood A-listers, but I guess dead chicks are even more fun.”
“Not cool.” I sidestepped him, teetering on my heels down a meandering brick path.
“You mean those guys following our every move?”
“No, you—referring to Willow as a dead chick. Could you be any more insensitive?”
“Christ…” He followed close behind, steadying me with his hand on the small of my back. I wished I didn’t find comfort in his smallest touch—that I could hold tight to my annoyance with his flippancy—but the truth was that now, more than ever, I needed him. As hard as the service had been, this was worse. I hated that the sun shone, warming my face and hands and the crown of my head. The heat offset the cold in my heart. The closer I stepped to the grave, the more my stomach churned.
Liam now walked alongside me, and I put his comment behind me. I had to.
I made eye contact with Willow’s mom, whom I’d never met, but she stared me down as if I’d killed her daughter myself. And that hurt. She didn’t know me. What I’d been through. Or how hard Willow had campaigned to join me in San Francisco.
“Ignore her,” Liam counseled. So he, too, had caught her glare? “A couple hours from now, we’ll be back in the air. Tonight, we’ll stay at the beach house, okay?”
I nodded.
He guided me to the back of the gathering crowd, avoiding Willow’s glaring family and Nathan’s reassuring half-smile. Instead of focusing on the awful green Astroturf covering the exposed dirt from Willow’s grave, I looked to the soaring trees. The sun slanting in a drunken haze through naked branches. The moss-covered tombstones, representing the lives of countless loved ones. How could a place of such beauty harbor such pain?
The pastor droned on, his words dark and ugly in the light of Willow’s life. She’d been more alive than anyone I’d ever known. No matter her faults, I’d admired that—her capacity for finding fun in the most mundane situations.
“…Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Our dear Willomena’s time on Earth may have been short, but as seen by the outpouring of love from so many, she touched countless lives. Let us bow our heads and pray.”
I refused to close my eyes or heart to the sun, the birdsong, the winter soil’s musk.
Instead, I arched my head back, losing myself in the sky’s endless fathoms. I held Liam’s hand and remembered my blessings. My renewed reason for living.
Willow, I’m sorry you’re dead. But for the first time in forever, I’m so happy to be alive. I loved you. And I hope you’re in a better place—no, the best place. You deserve it for all the nice things you used to do.
When my gaze once again fell forward, it was to witness Willow’s mother stand, then place a lone white rose on her daughter’s casket. Her sobs rose above the soft strains of “Amazing Grace” being sung by a preteen girl.
A man stepped forward to comfort her, but she brushed him away.
She made a slow turn, momentarily losing her balance, her focus, but then steely determination replaced her tears and she strode my way.
My pulse raced. I’d rehearsed a polite speech, hoping that when the time came, I’d find the right words to say, but now, my tongue felt thick and brain empty.
The closer she stepped, the more her frown drew down her face until her scowl appeared garish. “You…”
Liam stepped in front of me. “Ma’am…we’re both sorry for your loss.”
She slapped him.
He took the hit. I tried veering in front of him, but he held me back.
Her index finger looked abnormally long when she leveled it at first Liam, then me. “My baby’s death is on you, Liam Stone. And you, Julie Smith. Your perversions brought a curse upon our lives. You took my baby to that land of sinners and look what happened!” Her voice had risen to a shriek. “The devil climbed right on into my baby’s head and took her. I hope you’re happy. I hope—”
“Gloria, stop,” Willow’s father said. “Mr. Stone paid for all of this. You should be grateful. Apologize and then thank him.”
“I will do no such thing,” she said with teeth clenched. “I don’t want any of this.” She was once again crying, and my heart broke for her. I wanted to reach out, to somehow reassure her that everything would be okay. But how could I when if I let down my guard for even a moment, I’d remember my own precarious situation? I could pretend all I wanted that divorcing Blaine would be no big deal, but down deep, where his scariest seeds had been planted, lurked a tangled fear forest. Gloria marched to the casket, yanking off the enormous blanket of woven white roses. She was crying again, shrieking in pain.
It took the pastor and three women to drag her into the backseat of the funeral home’s white limo.
It could have been my imagination, but all of a sudden, it seemed like everyone was talking at once. And pointing. Staring.
My face grew hot and my stomach queasy.
A flash of light caught my eye and I found the paparazzi actually laughing, capturing frame after frame of this family’s pain.
“Come on.” Liam took my hand, dragging me when my feet refused to move.
I started to protest but lacked the energy. It was time to go. To move on.
Time to let Willow sleep.
13
Liam
God, I hated this fucking town.
Finally behind the rental car’s wheel, I had to help Ella with her seat belt, because she trembled too much to buckle it herself.
Photographers blocked the windows. Their lenses protruded like hard appendages.
I started the car and gunned it, not caring if I crushed their feet in the process.
Ella softy cried. She held her hands over her face.
I wished I didn’t have to drive so I could comfort her.
I suppose I could have pulled over, but that would defeat the purpose of getting us to the jet—our escape pod. The whole day had been a shit show, and the sooner we got back to our normal lives, the better. But what was “normal”?
At the airport, I parked the car, then stilled before killing the engine. “You all right?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry. That was one hell of a scene.”
“It’s okay. Part of me expected the blame.”
“Even though you didn’t deserve it?”
“Maybe I did. Maybe we both did.”
Fuck that. “No, we didn’t. Willow made her own choices and it sucks for her that the consequences were stiff. Once she chose to stay behind at the penthouse after you’d gone, your paths split. You could no more be held responsible for her than the weather. You know as well as I do that Willow marched to the beat of not just her own drum, but orchestra. Let it go. Let her go…”
“How can you be so callous?” Her mascara-streaked gaze clenched my chest.
I unfastened my seat belt, reaching for her, framing her cheeks, brushing them clean with my thumbs. “How can it be callous when it’s for self-preservation? Babe…both of us are broken, but once we’re married, we’ll be fixed, you know?” I tucked my hand beneath her chin, urging her watery gaze to mine.
“Will we? Really?” I felt her gaze searching my face for a promise when in my heart, I had none. Nothing concrete, anyway. Did it count that I wished I could gift her
with a bright and shiny new life all wrapped in a pink bow? Hell, did she even like pink? “Because after that mess, I feel lost. Like maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe what we share is smoke and given the slightest wind, just like Willow, the two of us will blow away.”
“Bullshit.” I took her hands. Kissed the backs of her fingers one by one. “What we share is magic.” Even though it was a lie, I flashed her my most confident smile. “Back before I made any real money, I used to chant affirmations when I worked out. Stuff like ‘Money comes easy to me,’ or ‘I win every negotiation.’ Eventually, I said it so much that I believed it, and then it started happening. I feel the same about us, Ell. I win—we win. It’s just going to take more time.” I kissed her, and exhaled only after she’d leaned into me, kissing me back. “Lucky for us, we have all the time in the world, right?”
As if fate were giving us the finger, my cell rang.
Garrett.
I ignored the call. Seconds later, a text popped onto my screen.
Call ASAP. Your future bride’s got baggage.
It had been a helluva day. The last thing I had energy to deal with was more of Garrett’s rhetoric about why I shouldn’t be with the woman I love.
—
As it turned out, for the rest of the day and night, with my cell turned off, Ella and I did have all the time in the world.
Nathan’s dad offered to pay for his return flight out of Little Rock if he agreed to stay in Rose Springs through the weekend. Ella seemed concerned about him, but I was secretly relieved.
The flight home was perfect. Great food and conversation. A good movie and nap.
By the time we landed, we were both too tired for a drive to the beach house and Ella didn’t want to “bother” my helicopter pilot, so we crashed at the Palo Alto house.
In the morning, I texted Carol to clear my weekend of the few charity obligations I had scheduled, then hire security teams to be on alert for paparazzi at both the beach and Palo Alto houses. Finished, I turned off my phone. Since the day was clear and warm, we took the convertible Jag for our long-weekend trek. I couldn’t wait to finally have Ella at my favorite place for more than one night.
“Thank you,” she said midway through our journey.
“For what?” I glanced her way. She’d worn her hair in a ponytail, but the wind wanted to play. She smoothed escaped tendrils, gifting me with what had become my favorite of all of her smiles—the one she used solely when she was at her most content.
“For erasing yesterday. I suppose I shouldn’t, but I feel as if it never happened. I remember the happy stuff about Willow, but none of the bad.”
“Good. And you’re welcome.” We held hands the rest of the way—at least until she saw a grocery store and wanted to stop off for supplies. I tried explaining that Penny had more than likely already prepped our meals. Ella not only insisted on stopping, but told me that since what she was making was a surprise, I had to stay in the car.
“Be right back,” she said with her flirty smile, kissing me nice and slow before giving me a dead-sexy view of her ass as she sashayed her way into the store.
I adjusted my fly. She’d totally done that on purpose. Sassy little kitten!
With the engine killed, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, letting the sun’s warmth soak deep into my skin, into my bones. The air smelled crisp and clean, with just enough brine to get me as excited as a horny teen over the prospect of going to the beach with my girlfriend. Only, when I’d been a teen, I’d never had a girlfriend—at least not one who meant anywhere near as much as Ella.
I grinned. Guess that was why I’d chosen to marry her.
When Ella took longer than I’d anticipated, I turned on my phone.
I’d expected a crap ton of texts and voicemails and missed calls, but not over fifty—most from Carol.
I played the first. Nothing special, just a play-by-play of Monday’s revised schedule.
The second—more of the same.
The third? I wished I’d deleted before playing it.
Liam, look, I know you wanted the weekend off to play, and I’ve arranged for security at both houses, but I figured you’d need a heads-up about today’s press. TMZ has a video of you getting slapped by Willow’s mom, and the wires picked up a shot of you and Ella with a bonus enlargement of her ring. I’m reasonably sure all of this will blow over, but in case you get ambushed by a reporter, I wanted you to have time to come up with a spin.
Christ…I deleted the message just as Ella left the store.
She looked so happy, I didn’t want to bring her down with this crap, so I didn’t.
“Pop the trunk,” she requested with her arms wrapped around a bulging paper sack. “I need to hide this so you won’t peek.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I did as she asked, putting the message out of my head. Screw the press. They weren’t getting a second of this weekend.
At the house, just as I’d figured, Penny had stocked the fridge, but that was okay. Ella’s lone bag—no matter how full—wasn’t enough to sustain us, considering the adult activities I had planned.
“When do I get my surprise?” I asked after hauling the last of our luggage.
“Are you hungry?”
“Always.” I closed the front door and settled my hands low on her hips, drawing her in for the leisurely kiss I’d craved since the last time we were here. I loved this house. I loved her even more.
After she let me have my way with her on the living room sofa, she banished me to the bedroom before she took over the kitchen.
I didn’t care. Hell, to tell the truth, I was both flattered and turned on. I’d never had a woman cook for me and I couldn’t wait to find out what delicacy she had in store. A fancy lobster dish? An Italian cheese fest?
While waiting to find out, I grabbed the latest James Rollins hardback and settled into my favorite armchair to read for pleasure, as opposed to work. From time to time, I glanced up from the page to appreciate the sweet smell. For sure, not Italian, but whatever it was, my nose told me it would be something good.
I’d just finished the third chapter when she called from the base of the stairs. “Close your eyes!”
“Done!” I played along. Why not? With luck, once her divorce had been finalized and we were married, the rest of our lives would be fun. No stress or worries, just enjoying each other and the children I couldn’t wait to help her bring into this world.
My anticipation was heightened by her stealthy approach. I felt her more than I heard her. I swear I still tasted her last kiss.
“Keep ’em closed…” She was closer than I’d thought. Only a few feet away. I couldn’t help but smile.
“I will, but not for much longer if you don’t hurry.”
“You’d better watch that sass, mister, or you’ll find yourself blindfolded.”
“Promise?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Taste this…” She slowly exhaled against my lips and tongue. I smelled her and tasted her and when she settled her lips against mine for a leisurely exploration, her sweetness was my undoing.
“I don’t know what you made,” I said, my breath hitched with wanting, “but it’s gonna have to wait until I get a taste of you.” I made chomping noises against her throat.
Her laugh nourished my soul. “No way. I worked hard on these and want to see your expression when you eat one. Keep your eyes closed, but open your mouth.”
This felt a little kinky—and I liked it. I did as I was told.
“Here’s a mini-bite to get you started…”
She set something soft and warm and sweet on my tongue. Instant recognition brought tears to my eyes. As I chewed, savoring the blend of rich butter and marshmallows, followed by a happy crunch, I opened my eyes, then swallowed. “You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered how much you used to love Rice Krispies Treats. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t make my husband all of his favorite foods?” She held out a perfect square of her creation, w
hich I devoured.
“These are…” My throat was so thick with emotion, I couldn’t speak. I loved that about her. The way she held the power to move me without saying a word.
“I’m glad.” She’d teared up too. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
“Just okay?” I laughed, before drawing her onto my lap. She’d set the plate of treats on a side table and I took another, feeding her a bite, then taking one for myself. When it was gone, I kissed her deep, angling her face so I could drink in more of her, of us, of everything our shared lives held in store.
Our first time of the day had been fast. This time, I took it slow, dragging up the soft, faded purple Zoogle T-shirt Ella had found in a drawer. As usual, she wore a utilitarian white bra. I knew she considered it her security blanket, so I didn’t give her shit. I just unlatched it, fumbling before tackling the last hook, then drawing the offensive garment off, letting it tumble to the floor.
I ducked low, sweeping the sides of her full breasts with the backs of my fingers. “So beautiful…”
“No…” She shook her head. Her hair spilled like dark liquid over her chest. I swept it back over her shoulders, kissing her collarbone and the sexy hollow at the base of her throat.
“Want surgery?” I asked, tracing her scars. “Not that I’m saying you need it—not for me—but if you want it, I’ll find you the best plastic surgeon in the world tomorrow.”
“Not today?” For a second, her deadpan stare caught me off guard. Then she smiled. “Or why not ten minutes from now?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” She rolled up the bottom of my T-shirt, pressing her fingers against my chest. “I do. But the scars are so deep—I didn’t think reversing something like that was even possible.”
I leaned forward, grasping her wrist. “When are you going to learn that with me, anything’s possible?”
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