“You’re not even listening, are you? You’re just thinking about how to monetize that.” Willow was aggressively folding an old t-shirt that had seen better days. “Honestly, I’m shocked. The great Ryan Ford didn’t have side quests in his little bag of tricks?”
I tossed a balled-up pair of socks at her. “My bag of tricks is plenty full.”
Willow caught it and tossed it back at me. “Keep your bag of tricks to yourself.”
“Ah. No can do, cupcake. It would be a pretty boring three months if I did that. Sharing is caring.”
“You sound like Miles.”
"Who is Miles?”
“Whitney’s husband. Former MMA fighter and current bodyguard.”
That name sounded familiar. “Hold on. You’re telling me that Whitney West is actually Whitney Zhou and she’s married toMiles Zhou? Like . . .theMiles Zhou?”
"Technically, Annie Zhou is married to Miles Zhou. But yes.”
“No shit?”
Willow nodded. “Google it if you don’t believe me.”
I abandoned the socks and reached for my phone. “If you’re telling the truth, I need you to hook me up. He’d be a great podcast guest. Athlete. Guy’s guy. Romance author’s husband.”
Willow’s laugh was loud and long. She doubled over, clutching a pair of shorts to her chest.
“What?”
“You thinkMilesis a guy’s guy?” She wiped away her tears as her boisterous laughter turned to knowing giggles.
“I mean . . . Have you seen him fight? Because I have.”
Willow just shook her head. “We are talking about the man who has never once been seen without at least one rubber duck on his clothing. He wears a fanny pack when he goes with Whitney to events. It holds everything she might possibly need. Candy. Hand sanitizer. Phone charger. Tampons. Makeup. The works. He named it the Annie Pack. Whitney wears wigs. Who styles them for her? Miles. The three of us went to visit Wander when she was having a mid-ish life crisis and was still pretending like she wasn’t totally in love with the guy she ended up marrying. We gave her a whole movie montage makeover moment. Who did her hair while I did her makeup? He did. Miles is a girl’s guy.”
While Willow rambled, all I could do was smile as my thumb hovered over the search engine on my phone.
Acts of service.
Quality time.
That’s how Willow showed love. She was the type to cross the country when her friend needed her. Something about that made me fall just a little further.
A phone rang, cutting through the heavy silence. I looked down at mine, but the screen had gone dark. Willow shuffledaround the mess on the bed and dug her phone out of the rest of the laundry that needed to be folded.
“Hey, Lisa,” she greeted.
I kept working on the socks while I racked my brain to remember who Lisa was, but I couldn’t remember. Willow mentioned a sister. Maybe that was who had called.
“Lis—”
I glanced up as I found a matching pair and saw that Willow’s face had gone ghostly white. Her eyes flicked to me as wariness flooded her expression.
“No, I’m not alone. Ryan’s here with me. What’s going on?”
That didn’t sound like the start of a casual call. It sounded like?—
“Oh my god.” Willow’s threadbare whisper was a mix of shock and horror. She doubled over, trying to suck in a breath, but she looked like she had just been stabbed. The hand that held her phone to her ear trembled. She stammered, trying to regain her faculties, but all that came out was an animalistic cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered, “No, no, no, no. Lisa?—”
“Hey,” I whispered as I eased off the bed and moved toward her. Tension knitted my brows together as I tried to figure out what the hell was happening.
