“You seem antsy.”
Willow glanced over at me from the passenger’s seat. “Antsy? Me? I’m not antsy. Why would you think I’m antsy?”
I plucked the paper coffee cup out of her hands and gave it a little shake. It was the size of her head and nearly empty.
“Maybe lay off the caffeine. I think you might start vibrating if you drink anymore.”
Willow snatched the cup back. “Hands off my coffee, Ford. It’s the only thing making me nice today.”
Willow had worked through the stages of grief and had almost made it to acceptance when she rebounded to anger. I knew the feeling all too well. I slipped her coffee into the cup holder and took a left as we eased through an intersection.
“Talk to me,” I said as I reached over and took her hand. “What’s going through your head?”
She sighed. “I just have other things I need to do today.”
“Like what?”
“Not visit my family,” she muttered.
A few days ago, Willow’s mom had dropped by the rental house while I was on client calls. By the time I had wrapped up, she had left and Willow’s mood had turned sour.
Whatever had been said was enough to keep her quiet for the better part of the weekend.
“I can turn this car around and head to Lisa’s if you don’t want to go.”
Willow shook her head, but I didn’t miss the way she glanced at the clock. “She won’t be back until this afternoon.”
I took her hand and gave it a squeeze before lacing our fingers together. “How are funeral arrangements coming?”
The date had been set for the upcoming weekend. Although it had been two weeks since Willow got the news that her stepdad had died, she still talked about him like he was going to walk through the door at any minute.
“Everything’s pretty much done. He wouldn’t have wanted anything fancy. Lisa just wanted to wait until all of their family could get into town.”
“Makes sense,” I said as I followed the GPS and took another left. I slowed to a stop at a red light and traced the ridges on the back of her hand with my thumb. “Have you talked to Whitney and Wander lately?”
“I told them about Shep, but said I’d be radio silent for a while.”
“Why?” I couldn’t imagine why she’d open up to me, but shut out the women she had been friends with for years.
Unless . . .
Willow stared out the window at the passing houses as we navigated our way through the tight subdivision. “They’re busy. They have their own stuff going on. I don’t want to be a Debbie downer, but I also can’t put on a happy face or pretend like everything’s fine. It’s better this way.”
“Suffering in silence?”
Willow cut her eyes at me, and I knew I had struck a chord. “Being a good friend.”
“Maybe you should let them be good friends to you.” Before she could answer, I pulled into a driveway belonging to a tidy one-story ranch. “What’s the code word for when you’re ready to leave?”
Willow tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, letting out a sharp exhale. “Trust me. You’ll know when it’s time.”
With that, she opened the door and hopped out. I followed her up the concrete path to the front door, but no one came to open it.
I kept my hand on her back as Willow let herself into the house.
“Hello?” she called out as she dodged a voluptuous orange cat.
It glared at me like I was a peasant before darting out of the house.
