“Onion rings?” I ask as the car before us moves ahead, and she shrugs.
“Never had them.” I grin then, excited to once again give her something basic that I’ve taken for granted. I order an array, get it from the window, and then move back onto the highway foronly a moment before turning into the parking lot of the next fast-food restaurant.
“Leo—”
“We’ve gotta figure out what you like,” I say. “Ever had popcorn chicken?” I ask, pulling up to the speaker, then ordering another feast.
“Leo,” she murmurs once we pull out, and she realizes I’m repeating the same process. “Leo, this is nuts.”
I stop behind the car ordering, and turn to her to see that soft look on her face, the one she gives me when she’s excited and thrilled by something basic, but feels like she should protest because she feels a bit silly.
“Yeah, but who’s gonna stop us?” I ask. She grins.
After we have our huge fast-food feast, I drive a minute or two to a county park I’ve noticed in passing, then drive another minute before we find a lookout, like some kind of kismet. I back her SUV into it, then moved quickly to open the trunk and lay the rear seats flat before we carried the food to the back and climbed in. Willa has the widest smile on her face as I open bags, ripping the paper and laying them out like some five-course meal.
“I think this is my new favorite food,” she says, stealing another fry from one of the bags twenty minutes later, and I laugh.
“Sorry, it’s not fancier, but that would kind of defeat the purpose. You gotta eat fast food like this quick. It’s not as good cold.” She shrugs as if it doesn’t faze her at all, reaching for the chicken nuggets she deemed to be her favorite, and sliding them through barbecue sauce.
“This is the best meal I’ve ever had,” she says, and the grin on her face tells me she means it.
“I’m glad I could give you another first.” I look at the bags around us. “Or ten.” She laughs, then, head tipping back, happy and free in a way I’ve only ever seen on her here in Holly Ridge.
My phone chooses that moment to ping with a new email, and at the same time, Willa’s does. Neither of us reaches for our devices immediately; instead, we look to one another, somehow knowing. The only reason we’d both have a message at the same time would be if it were about her and the timeline. She puts a hand out, grabbing my hand and twining our fingers before grabbing her phone and tapping a bit.
“August 20,” she says, her voice low, looking at the screen, and my stomach drops. “The relationship starts August 20.”
Her head lifts, eyes locking on mine before she gives me a soft, sad smile. I see it there, clear as day: the internal battle of wanting to extend this further, but also excited to record her next album, to get the ball rolling towards being able to share it with the world, with her fans. I’ve heard a few of the songs, and each one is the best thing I’ve heard her create. With each one, she tells me about how she thinks her fans will love it, which one will be their new favorite, and ideas for music videos.
She loves that life, or at least parts of it.
And once again, I know I will make it all happen for her, so Willa Stone gets the career and the life we’re building in Holly Ridge.
“It just means I have four weeks.” I lift her hand and scoot closer, pressing my lips to her fingers, and watching her shield go up for a moment before I clarify. “I have four weeks to make magic for you, to make sure we both have all the memories we need to tide us over.”
“Leo—” she starts, and I know where this conversation is going, too, because we haven’t fully ignored the future since we’ve gotten together. There have been a few moments when she’s caved to her worry, tried to convince me she can’t expectme to just sit around while she off dating someone else (her words, not mine) and each time I’ve done what I can to reassure her that I’ve already been sitting around and waiting for years now—but those years, I didn’t know she was mine. That I can handle another six months, another year of that, if it means I know that at the end of it all, I get to have her, free and clear.
“We’re going to live the next month like nothing is going to change because other than the location and the inability to be open, nothingwillchange, Willa. We’re going to do ourjobs. And we are going to be together.”
‘Yeah, but we can’t?—“
“Not being able to touch and kiss you anytime I want is going to cut deep. I won’t pretend it will be sunshine and roses. But we’ll make it through just fine. We’ll have the occasional weekend in Holly Ridge, and we’ll see each other often, even if we’ll be guarded. And there are phones. And here are video calls,” I say, a smile moving on my lips as I shift her, pulling her into my lap. “I might not be able to touch you every night, but we can do other things. We can be creative.”
“I like creative,” she whispers against my lips.
“I know that.” I kiss her, soft and sweet and reassuring, I hope, and after a moment, when she pulls back and rests her forehead against mine, I know I did my job.
“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”
‘We’re going to be okay, Willa. I’m going to make sure of it.”
A week later, on Saturday afternoon, Willa walks into the bedroom where I am sorting through clean clothes, phone in hand and smiling. We’ve fallen into a rhythm that feels sonatural, sometimes I forget we haven’t always been this, Willa and I together.
“We’re going out tonight,” she says, throwing her phone on top of the dress, then stepping over to the closet that, without any kind of real conversation, has becomehercloset. She still keeps some things at Hallie’s old place, but the trips there to grab them have become less and less frequent, with most of her essentials finding a new home here. In my mind, I’m already thinking of ways to make her feel more at home here, things she might need, like turning the smaller closet into a larger walk-in style and talking to Adam about what she might need for an office-slash-music room here.
I want this to be her home, and to make that happen, she needs her own space. She’s not necessarily ready for all of those conversations just yet, though, so I mostly just plot and plan in my own mind.
I stand then, reaching for and snagging her around the waist before she makes it to the closet, and pulling her into me.
