CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE FLIGHT TO California in Zane’s private plane was long but enjoyable and made even more pleasurable when they joined the mile-high club. Unfortunately, as exciting as it was, it was hardly something Willow could brag about. Which was a shame, because it was hilarious, exhilarating, and naughty. A driver picked them up from the airport in a black sedan, and she snuggled up to Zane in the backseat. A long while later, the driver pulled through a private gate and onto a long, bamboo-shielded driveway. Tall trees and wide bushes lined the pavement all the way up to the house, which was completely secluded from the road. The first thing Willow noticed was how unremarkable the ranch-style bungalow was. It looked like the kind of house the Brady Bunch might have lived in if their family had been smaller.
“Welcome to my world, sweetheart.” Zane helped her from the car and kissed her cheek.
While the driver brought their bags to the door, she took a good look around his cozy little oasis. Even after Patch had told her Zane lived modestly, she’d still envisioned something more glamorous than the small, single-story home nestled among a veritable forest. And now that she was taking a closer look at the two-car garage and slate walkway leading to an arched front door, it reminded her of something else. Sweetwater. The foliage was different, with leafy palms and bamboo instead of the indigenous trees of Upstate New York, but it definitely felt familiar.
Zane took her hand, and a flicker of nervousness danced in his eyes. She found it endearing, like everything else about him.
“It’s not very exciting.”
“Actually, I really like it,” she said as he pushed open the door.
Honey-toned wood floors spilled into an open living room with three sets of glass doors leading out to a deck and a pool. The walls were white with stained wood trim, giving the moderate-size room a spacious feel. A fireplace was built into the far wall, and its bricks were also painted white. A quaint kitchen was tucked into a nook to their left, with butcher-block and stainless-steel countertops. Perfect for baking. The vintage stove was reminiscent of her own.
Zane carried their bags in and closed the door behind them. “Go on, Wills. Take a look around.”
It felt strange to walk into his house after they’d spent so much time in her apartment, which felt like his home as much as hers. She stopped walking, struck by the distance that would soon divide them. What will it feel like going home without you? Sleeping without you? Waking up without you?
A knot rose in her throat, and she worked hard to swallow past it. They had less than twenty-four hours together, and she wasn’t about to waste any of it being sad. There would be enough time for that on the long plane trip home tomorrow. And in the coming weeks.
She ran her fingers along the back of the deep-cushioned sofa, wanting to flop down on it with Zane, wrap herself up in his arms, and not think about this time tomorrow, when they’d be apart. Her eyes were drawn to pictures hanging on the wall. Five pictures from their childhood. She moved closer, and the knot returned to her throat. The first picture had been taken on the island. She and Bridgette lay on beach towels in the sand, Bridgette in a pink bikini, Willow in a blue one-piece bathing suit. Willow lay on her stomach, her hands folded beneath her chin, smiling and watching Talia and Ben splashing in the water. Bridgette lay on her back sunbathing, her eyes closed. Piper’s backpack sat discarded on a towel. She was probably in the woods. Willow remembered that summer. She’d been sixteen, and she’d had a major crush on Zane.
She glanced at him now, and he lifted a shoulder, crossing the room toward her as she looked over the next picture. Zane sat beside Ben on the top of the picnic table in her parents’ backyard. He was gazing across the lawn at Willow with a faraway look in his eyes. She sat cross-legged, reading on a blanket in the grass. Her hair was a tangled mess, with leaves sticking out of it. She remembered that afternoon. Ben and Zane had raked the yard for her parents, and she’d jumped into every leaf pile, which had started a leaf war. She laughed softly at the memory.
“Who took this picture?” she asked.
“I took the first one, but I don’t know who took the rest. When I came back one Christmas a few years ago, your mom was going through pictures, and I asked her for a few of them.”
“She never told me.” She glanced up at the third picture, of Zane and her father on her father’s boat. Her father had a prideful look in his eyes, his arm draped around Zane’s shoulder. Zane’s head was tipped back, caught laughing. “I love this one.”
She moved to the next picture, of him and Ben wearing their football uniforms. They were arm in arm, grinning like fools. The lights of the football field lit up like diamonds against the night sky behind them. Zane’s face still held the softness of youth, not yet blessed with ever-present scruff or sharp edges, but his eyes were as focused and determined as ever.
“No wonder I chose you.” She slipped her finger into his pocket. “You were hot.”
He laughed. “I weighed, like, a buck thirty. I was a wiry kid.”
“Hardly.” She took a step up to look at the last picture, and her heart tumbled in her chest. The two of them were studying at her parents’ kitchen table. Willow was pointing to something in the textbook, and he was leaning over, cheek to palm, gazing up at her with a vacant look in his eyes.
“Told you so,” he said. “I have no idea how I passed math, because I was totally into you.”
“Osmosis?” she teased.
He retrieved the suitcases, and she followed him into the master bedroom, taking in the king-size bed with a masculine, navy-blue comforter, a leather recliner beneath a lamp in the corner, and a single long dresser.
He set their bags beside the bed and picked up a photograph from the nightstand, running his fingers over the picture as he came to her side. “This is my favorite picture. The one Patch told you about.”
She took it from his hands and sank down to the mattress, the significance of the image clinging to her like a second skin. Her back was to the camera, her head bent forward, the red rose he’d given her that night—their night—barely visible in her hand. She sat on the green-and-blue blanket.
Zane sat beside her on the bed, their shoulders touching, his familiar scent lulling her toward him.
“You took this that night?” She met his eyes and was bowled over by the emotions in them.
“Yes. Are you mad?”
“I might have been back then, but not now. I . . . That’s a nice memory.”
“Thank God. I wasn’t sure if you’d be pissed off.” He put his arm around her. “I followed you home that night.”
“You did? After I told you to let me be so I could process what we’d done? That was rude.” She smiled and added, “And pretty romantic.”
“What did you expect? You don’t have sex for the first time and just walk away, no matter what rules you thought up. I’d broken your other rules. I felt even though you said no feelings. Who am I kidding? I fell. Hard. I looked at you differently even though you said not to. You can’t control everything, sweet girl.” He took the picture from her hands and set it back on the nightstand.
“I followed you home to make sure you got there safely and because I still couldn’t believe you’d chosen me. Of all the guys in Sweetwater, I was the lucky one. That night, as I followed you home, all I could think about was that one day you’d realize your rules were stupid and that we should be together. And you did, so let’s enjoy it.”
He pushed to his feet, and she happily took his hand, following him into the living room.
“So you moved all this way, but you kept Sweetwater alive. It’s in the pictures, in this house. I had the complete wrong impression of you.”
“No, Wills. You didn’t. I wasn’t a saint just because I didn’t bring women here. I had my fair share of meaningless hookups.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean that, but thanks for that visual. Geez, Z. Just what I needed.”
He hugged her. “No lies, remember? Yes, I couldn’t wait to leave Sweetwater. I didn’t want to end up like my parents, living an unfulfilling life, paycheck to paycheck. But I didn’t want to leave all of Sweetwater behind. That’s where you were. That’s where Ben was. It’s where my life was.” He kissed her softly. “I left a piece of my heart by the creek all those years ago. Did you really think I’d never come back to get it?”
“Yes,” she said honestly. “But I’m glad we both finally came to our senses.”
ZANE AND WILLOW decided to forgo the crowded tourist hot spots and hit the Hollywood Hills for a late-afternoon hike. A few fans stopped for selfies with Zane, and he dragged Willow into them, which embarrassed her but thrilled him to no end. At least this way when they ended up on Instagram or Twitter, none of the fans could say they were out with him and make up nonsense stories. Being back in Sweetwater had reminded him what it was like to have a normal life, and even after being interrupted by only a few well-meaning fans today, he missed it. Terribly.
They made spaghetti for dinner, wanting to savor every minute they had together instead of wasting time waiting for a table in a restaurant only to be interrupted by more fans. After dinner they lay by the pool cuddled up on a lounge chair, making wishes on stars. I hope you don’t blow your scenes as you finish filming. I hope you don’t burn your next wedding cake. They were careful not to mention their upcoming time apart. But now, as he lay with Willow sleeping soundly in his arms, in a room that no longer felt like home, as dawn crept over the hills, their time apart was all he could think about.
He’d arranged a surprise for her back in Sweetwater, and he wished he could be there to see her face when she saw it. She’d be pissed at first, because in her eyes the things he did were too big, but his girl deserved everything she ever wanted. And he was going to be the man to give it to her.
Willow stirred. “Hi,” she said groggily. Her hair was a tangled mess from his greedy hands, she had sheet prints on her cheek and a little razor burn beside her mouth from their fervent kisses, and she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Did I wake you?”
“Mm-mm.” She stretched and glanced at the clock. “Do I really have to leave in three hours?”
He moved over her, kissing her neck and shoulder. Her skin was warm and inviting. “You can stay with me.”
She wound her arms around his neck, cradling his hips between her thighs. “I wish I could, but I have a bridal shower to cater Wednesday, and I have to go back and fight with my distributor about getting a new oven.”
“What about a man to take care of?”
“I thought you’d be upset if I had a man in Sweetwater and you here.”
“You wicked little vamp.” He kissed her as she laughed.
“Two weeks ago we thought we’d be staging a breakup.” She grabbed his face, grinning from ear to ear. “Now you’re stuck with me.”
“Just the way I like it.”
He slid his hands beneath her butt, angling her hips up as their bodies came together. Fire radiated from his core, thrummed through his limbs.
“Love me, Z—”
He covered her mouth with his and loved her until sunlight snuck in through the curtains, warming their tangled legs. And then he loved her again—in bed, in the shower, and he tried to tackle her for a quickie while she dressed, but she threatened his manhood.
On the way to the airport they stopped at Claude’s Café, located around the corner from Zane’s house. It was just about the only place he could go without being hassled by tourists. It was more of a dive than a café, with concrete walls and hand-painted signs. Refurbished stools, large black-and-white floor tiles, and an old-fashioned Formica countertop with metal edging rounded out the eclectic café.
“Dude.” Claude Bouche lifted his chin in greeting. His beanie hung halfway off his head, and sprigs of thick dark curls peeked out from beneath the edges. “Good to see you again.” He gave Willow a blatant, and approving, once-over. “How’s it goin’, beautiful?”
“Watch it, Claude.” Zane wrapped his arms around Willow from behind. “I’m going to marry this girl one day.” His phone vibrated, and she wiggled out of his arms and ordered her coffee.
He read the text from his public relations rep with confusion and navigated to the links she’d sent. Anger burned in his gut as pictures of Willow sprawled out on a bed flashed before his eyes on one gossip site after another. It had to be a hoax. He was going to slaughter whoever was responsible for this shit.
“Wills,” he said, mentally gearing up to fight the attack head-on. “You’ve never had nearly naked pictures of yourself taken, have you?” He showed her the phone. “Some asshole’s trying to pretend they’ve got racy pictures of you.”
The blood drained from her face.
“Wills?”
She stormed out of the café and headed straight for the car. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”
“Talk to me, Willow. What’s going on? Did you have these taken?”
“Yes! I had them taken for you.”
He froze. “For me?”
She climbed into the car and stared out the window, refusing to speak another word.
He wished he’d called his driver. The goddamn traffic was relentless, and he needed to hold her and get to the bottom of this mess. He’d been giving her time to calm down, but as they neared the airport, he couldn’t take the silence any longer.
“I don’t understand. You had these pictures taken for me?”
“Yes! What don’t you understand?” Tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I was eighteen and beyond stupid. I thought I could win you over by sending you sexy pictures, and then you stopped texting and I never went to pick them up. That seems like a hundred years ago. I don’t know why they’re all over the Internet now or how they got there. All I know is that every time I leave Sweetwater my life falls apart.”
The knowledge annihilated him. Between the hurt in her eyes, in her voice, her words, and the anger in his gut, he could barely breathe. His sweet, trusting girl, who had always hated people looking at her breasts, had taken boudoir pictures for him? He ground his teeth against the stream of curses vying for release and reached for her hand.
She swatted it away, turning her whole body toward the door.
“Wills, I . . . Jesus.” No apology was big enough for what had happened all those years ago, so he focused on the only thing he could do. “The goddamn photographer must have leaked the pictures. I’ll tear him apart limb by limb. I’ll sue the bastard until he hasn’t got a penny to his name.”
“Ohmygod,” she said under her breath. “You can’t fix this with money.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
She gave him a tearful, disbelieving stare. “People can’t unsee those pictures, Zane. Maybe you’re used to this kind of thing, but I’m not, and I don’t want it in my life. I can’t take it.”
“Baby, this will blow over. You’ll see. As soon as another story hits, this will be—”
“Blow over?” She scoffed, staring out the window again, arms crossed, as painful as a barbed-wire barrier between them that he wanted to tear the fuck down. “Everyone will see those pictures if they haven’t already. My parents, my customers . . .” Her jaw clenched. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Willow—”
“Don’t. Just . . . don’t.”
He bit his tongue but didn’t silence his mind. He was going to fix this, no matter what the cost.
When they finally reached the airport, he navigated to the private parking area by the airstrip, and Willow strode from the car before he even cut the engine. He grabbed her bags, flagged the pilot to load them onto the plane, and caught up to her.
“Willow, stop. Please, baby.” He was not going to lose her over this. No frigging way.
She turned, eyes red and damp, her lower lip trembling, slicing even deeper as she continued storming across the tarmac toward the plane. “Don’t, Zane. This is my fault.” Her voice escalated again, and every word struck him like a bullet. “I made a horrible decision, and it’s biting me in the ass. Now I have to go home and clean up my mess.”
“This is not your fault. It’s mine.” He didn’t mean to shout, but rage tore through him. “You took those pictures for me, remember? If you were dating some normal guy, you wouldn’t be the target of every asshole that wants to make a buck. I’m going to fix this, Willow. I promise you I will. And I’m coming home with you.”
“No. You’re not.” She stepped forward, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, and astonishingly, a small smile lifted her lips and a tender tone followed. “I love you, and I know you want to swoop in and make those pictures disappear, but you can’t. They’re out there. Forever. You start filming at six tomorrow morning here in LA, and I am not going to let you screw that up because of something I did.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her tighter than he ever had, wishing he could wrap her up in a protective bubble and whisk her away from all of this. The press, the hurt, the embarrassment.
“Our lives are a world apart, and right now I have to go back to mine and you need to go back to yours. I love you,” she whispered, and it caused his anger to swell and dampen his own damn eyes. “I’ll call you when I’ve got things under control.”
“Willow, I’m not letting you go.”
She took a step away. “I know. You never will.”