But all thoughts of the future and plans fly out of my mind as my hips slide back and then back, leaving me firmly in the present. Her hands slide up my chest, nails digging into my shoulders. Mine move to her knees, holding her open for me before I look down to where I’m disappearing between her legs. A deep, guttural moan leaves my lips at the sight, the perfection of it. We move together like that, her pants and my groans filling up the room as pleasure builds in me, as she tightens around me.After a few minutes of that, I can feel that, just like me, she’s holding off, trying to put off the inevitable for as long as she can, to bask in this moment of being together like this again for as long as possible.
That is, until her hands move to my cheeks, tipping my head up to look at her, and pulling my face to hers. She kisses me, nipping at my lip, and it feels fantastic. My thrusts quicken, and her legs move, wrapping around my hips as I fuck into her.
“Come for me, honey. I need to feel you,” I murmur against her lips. We can no longer kiss, our breaths too labored, so we are just holding our faces close to one another.
“You too,” she begs.
“I’ll follow you always,” I groan, meaning my orgasm, but I think she knows that I mean it in all ways, because I really will follow Will to the ends of the earth if that’s what she wants. Her head snaps back, her body tightening and shaking as she comes hard. I do as I promised, slamming in deep and filling her as she moans my name.
And even though we have a lot to talk about, so much to figure out, I know to my soul that none of that matters.
Because I have Willa, which means I have it all.
THIRTY-SEVEN
WILLA
On Monday, two days after I fled the city, Gabe drives me to the Perfect Image offices. The closer we get, the more anticipation brews in my chest, familiar to how I felt months ago—nerves, excitement, and a hint of resentment—though all now experienced through a much different lens.
When we pull up, and I spot photographers waiting outside, the scene feels both familiar and unexpected.
“Who gave them the heads up?” I ask, and Leo smiles from beside me, his hand tight in mine.
I woke up in his bed in Holly Ridge, and he made love to me before we took a shower together. Nat came over with coffee and bagels and helped me get ready in full Willa Stone glam. I have on a full, perfect face of makeup, my blue contacts, and the platinum wig, this time styled in soft waves down my back, but instead of black or white or beige, Nat directed me to wear a pretty burgundy dress with a pair of over-the-knee dark brown boots I’m borrowing from her.
It’s exactly the shield and confidence boost I need for today’s meeting.
"I did. No need to hide," Leo says.
I grin and shake my head. The car stops in front of the building. Butterflies erupt in my chest—not the happy, love-induced kind, but sharp, nervous ones. Their presence makes me momentarily doubt how the next two hours will unfold.
Leo squeezes my hand. "Ready?" He searches my face. I nod. "Do you need a minute? Did you do your routine?"
His eyes meet mine, and my chest fills with gratitude for his support—and for how well he understands me and my needs. He knows me better than I could ever express.
The truth is, I will never be able to thank Leo Sinclair for what he has given me over the past few months.
Not a dozen first-time experiences and the promise of a million more, if I want them.
Not elaborate dates or grand gestures or small moments of love.
But the grandest gift Leo has given me is the gift ofme.
Leo, whether he realizes it or not, gave me myself back, and I will never be able to fully thank him for that.
So, for the first time in years, I don’t need to prepare when I step out or put on a shield. I don’t panic about being perfect because Willa Stone is just an extension of Just Willa, more extravagant, but still me. Both versions are deeply loved by Leo, my friends, and my chosen family, so I don’t care if the cameras find my flaws.
Because I have people in my life who love me, not despite those imperfections, butbecauseof them.
So I shake my head, feeling steady. When Gabe opens the door, we walk in past the cameras, smiling and waving without hesitation. The questions shouted from outside barely graze my attention, and I move quickly and efficiently into the building. Leo kisses me quickly in the elevator, fingers twining with mine. When we get to the offices, the receptionist gives us wide eyes, but says nothing as we walk to the meeting room. Jackie andJefferson are already waiting, as requested. Leo closes the door behind us, and Jackie stands quickly, her face transformed by the worried mask of a mother.
There was a time I would have seen it as genuine, but now I know nothing about Jackie; nothing can be trusted. I thought I created my masks and personas as protection, but I recently realized she taught me by example how to craft what people wanted most from me.
“Willa, my goodness, I was so worried,” she says, moving towards me. “What happened?”
She pulls me in for a hug that I don’t return, something she seems not to notice.
After Leo and I had time together Saturday night, we let Gabe call Jackie. He told her he found me, but said I was having a hard time and wanted to be alone. He assured her I was safe and that I’d meet her at Perfect Image on Monday to discuss a revised plan. Then, Leo spread the word that I’d gotten sick, which is why I didn’t show up at the charity gala. We hunkered down together during all this.
