My eyes flash to her dad, who’s offering me a knowing smile. He stands, and Willow leaps into his arms as he kisses the top of her head, murmuring something against her hair that I can’t hear before lifting his gaze to me. “After breakfast, do you want to hit a swell? Just for fun?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I’d like that.”
Leo nods, slipping inside the house.
She faces me again, throwing herself into my arms.
“Any chance you’re looking for a roommate?” I ask, tone casual—though the grin taking over my mouth is anything but.
Tilting her head, she peers up at me through glistening, lovestruck eyes. “Wow,” she breathes, chuckling playfully. “Asking to move in with me already? That’s a little quick, don’t you think?”
“Shut up.” I nip her nose, laughing.
All the light that left her after yesterday’s events is shining through again. I know she still needs to process not only what happened, but the things that were said to her last night. I know she may be partially masking her emotions at this moment, but when I asked Willow how she was feeling this morning and if she wanted to tell her parents about the interaction with Parker, she said yes but not today. For now, she wanted to redirect her focus to what makes her happy and not harbor on the darkness.
I can’t say I blame her, because for all I still need to work through myself, I feel exactly the same at this moment. When the sun is this bright and the air is fresh with lingering salt water, when the woman of my dreams is nestled inside my arms, I want to savor it.
CHAPTER 39
WILLOW
“Do you need any help with dinner?” I ask my mom as we drop our beach towels outside the garage and head toward the house.
“Monny cooked.” Mom laughs, shaking her head. “Thank God. She made lasagna.”
“Monny is coming for dinner?” I ask excitedly.
Monny is the nickname Lou gave my grandmother on my dad’s side, Monica, when Aunt Dahlia first moved here with her when she was a kid. After the twins and I were born, she preferred that nickname to “Grandma,” and it’s stuck ever since.
“Oh, yeah.Everyoneis coming over tonight. Better tell Wes to buckle up.” She winks, nudging my ribs before striding into the house. I laugh, pulling out my phone to text Allie and ask her if she wants to come over for dinner too.
My parents and their siblings have had a Sunday dinner tradition for years, and there is a standing invite at my childhood home every weekend for whoever is around and can make it. It’s rare that everyone is available outside of holidays and birthdays. Even today, we’ll be missing Archer, but I’m excited to seemy grandparents, who I haven’t spent nearly enough time with while I’ve been home this summer.
Allie floats into my parent’s house a half hour later with the ingredients to make Dahlia’s famous chocolate-raspberry mousse cake—Archer’s favorite. “I miss him,” is all she says when I ask about it.
She buzzes around the kitchen, barking orders at me to assist with various baking tasks, and by the time the cake is in the oven, I’m covered in flour.
My family begins arriving throughout Allie’s and my venture, all of them steering clear of the kitchen for fear of being roped into assisting. My grandparents arrive just as she’s frosting the cake, and I’m eating leftover mousse straight from the bowl with my fingers.
“Hi, my beauty,” my grandpa says as he passes me, planting a kiss against my cheek before filling the fridge with all the food they’ve brought.
“God, it smells good in here,” Monny chimes, entering behind him. “Hi, babies.” She hugs Allie before taking me into her arms too.
“Hi,” I laugh, the sound muffled by my face in her neck. She smells like jasmine and citrus—the same perfume she’s worn my entire childhood.
“Where are my other grandbabies? Where is your boyfriend?”
My cheeks heat. “Z, Liv, and Lou are out back. Weston was surfing with Dad, they should be done soon.”
As if willing them into existence, deep, joint laughter rings through the house just a moment before Dad and Weston drift into the kitchen, my mom and aunt at their heels. Before greeting any of her children, my grandmother lights up at the sight of Weston—though his eyes are solely focused on me.
“Weston!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around his waist. Monny is short, so her head barely reaches his chest, and his eyes widen as he stumbles back at the force of her embrace.
Sorry, I mouth.
He chuckles, shrugging with a smile as he returns it.
“I warned him, Sugar,” my dad whispers, kissing the top of my head.
