Her little nose scrunches. “Rose told me to… to stop fucking you today,” she sniffles. “I told her she was wrong, but she was pretty convinced.”
Oh, I’m going to have some words with that ex-wife of mine. She doesn't get to waltz in and tear at Willow when she's so vulnerable. She's obviously done that on purpose, like the vindictive bitch she is.
She has no proof of us. And I’m pretty sick of hiding my feelings for Willow now.
“I’ll deal with her.”
Willow shouldn't have to.
I tighten my hold on her, just enough that she feels it.
“But don't give up on this. On us.”
There's no version of my life that doesn't have her in it. I don't even want to imagine one.
I know this is the vodka talking. The unbearable grief. The old wounds Rose knows exactly how to press and when. Because even now, through the tears, Willow is still looking at me the same way I look at her.
That has to mean something.
Her hands slide over mine and gently pull them away from her face.
“I… I need to go to bed,” she murmurs weakly. “I need to clear my head.”
Nope. I don't like it. She shouldn't be alone, and I don't want to be.
“Okay,” I say anyway, because pushing her will only make it worse.
Her hand rests against my chest for a moment—light, hesitant. Her fingers twitch like she wants to say more.
But she doesn't.
She just walks past me and heads down the hallway, leaving me alone.
I exhale calmly.
I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to her that she is everything I want. Not because of where she comes from, not because of who her mother is, but because she's Willow.
My Willow.
Rose crossed a line tonight. The past was mine to explain when the time was right.
If Willow needs space, I’ll give it. But there is no way I am letting her walk out of my life because of that bitch.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 36
Willow
It's been one hell of a difficult week.
The kind you wish you could fold up and throw away, especially with Christmas around the corner.
Usually, this is my favourite time of year. I love the lights, the music, and the ridiculous jumpers that you buy, even if you’re only going to wear them once and store them until next Christmas. Everything feels so much more joyful, but that’s not how I’m feeling right now.
The morning after I got stupidly drunk and told Elijah we shouldn't be a thing anymore, I left.
