“I get that.” His voice gentled. “What I wanted to say—” Coach broke off. “Just be careful, son.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to surprise Patty tonight with a suite at the Thayer after the party. I, ah, I even packed her an overnight bag and snuck it into the trunk of our car. We’ll stay for New Year’s Day brunch tomorrow.”
I smiled. “She’ll like that, sir.”
“I hope so.” He braced a hand on one hip. “Willow is an adult. She doesn’t need a babysitter.”
“Sir?” I frowned.
“I’m just saying that she’d be furious if she knew I was going to ask you to stay here with her tonight.” Coach’s eyes narrowed. “You can sleep on the sofa.”
“Oh. Yes, sir. Of course.” I was more than a little taken aback.
“That way you don’t have to walk back to the barracks in the middle of the night. I know Willow is fine here, but given everything . . . I mean, with her, ah, condition—” He made a vague gesture at his middle. “Patty will relax better if she knows you’re here.”
“Happy to help, Coach.”
Willow didn’t know that her parents weren’t coming home. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t said anything yet, except that I had a feeling that she wasn’t going to be thrilled that her father had asked me to stay. If I’d learned one thing about this woman, it was that even now, she remained fiercely independent. She didn’t want me or anyone else seeing any weakness. So I had to tread carefully.
As the clock ticked inevitably toward midnight, we played a few board games—nothing too involved; we went old school with the Caseys’ ancient version ofBattleship, and then we got seriously competitive withRummikube. Willow was a demon at cards, or so she told me, and she’d grown up playingRummikubewith her brother and their folks.
By almost ten, we’d grown tired of games. Willow finally agreed to turn on my choice of a perfect New Year’s Eve movie.
“I cannot believe that you seriously think thatGhostbusters IIis the best thing to watch on the last night of the year.”
I reached for the soft crocheted blanket that always lay draped over the back of the couch and spread it over Willow’s legs and lap. “I can’t believe you don’tknowthat it’s best one. I mean, look at it, sweetheart: it’s got Bill Murray, Sigourney Weaver, Dan Aykroyd, Rick Moranis, and Peter MacNicol. Not to mention that Slimer makes a return appearance. The Statue of Liberty marches into Manhattan.” I nodded, smiling. “And its climax takes place when? On New Year’s Eve.”
“All right, all right,” Willow gave in, laughing. “I’m convinced.” She snuggled down with a sigh. “But you promise we can turn it off in time to see the ball drop, right?”
“I’ve timed it perfectly. The movie will end at eleven forty-five, and we can switch over to the coverage at Time’s Square.”
“So we’re going to miss the first fifteen minutes?” She swiveled her head toward me, blinking.
“Yeah. And you’re welcome.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s the lamest show in the world. The only good part of the whole thing is counting down at midnight. Before and after? Boooring!”
“But there’s music, and celebrities, and all these people kiss . . .” Willow’s cheeks went an enticing shade of pink. “I mean, the celebrities do.”
“Since when are you interested in celebrities?” I cocked my head, intrigued. It seemed to me that every time I thought I’d gotten a handle on all of the nuances of Willow, she surprised me again.
“I’m not,” she assured me. “But it’s different on New Year’s Eve. Everything is.”
I lifted one eyebrow. “Everything?”
Willow regarded me steadily. “Time’s wasting, Dean. Turn on the movie.”
I did as she’d instructed, getting up to turn off the overhead light to make viewing a little better. Willow watched me in silence; I half-expected her to protest. But instead, when I sat down again, she lifted the edge of her blanket and made room for me next to her.
“It gets chilly down here at night,” she remarked, and I knew she was justifying the move to herself.
So instead of teasing her as I might have done, I merely nodded.
“It’s damp,” I agreed, tucking the blanket under my leg. I had to sit closer to Willow so that it covered us both, and my shoulder pressed against hers. If she noticed, she didn’t give me any indication.
As the first scenes played, I suddenly thought of one aspect of the movie I’d forgotten: the baby. Sigourney Weaver had a kid, and he played a fairly significant role in the storyline.Shit. Was it going to upset Willow? Would it bring up painful worries?
“I can feel you sitting over there worrying.”
“Hmmm?” I turned my head.
Willow sighed. “You tensed up. I could be wrong, but I’m going to guess you’re kicking yourself because of Oscar.” She pointed to the screen where Harold Ramis and friends were awkwardly examining the baby.
