CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FOR THE SECOND time in as many weeks, entering Sweetwater failed to bring warmth and comfort to Willow. Only this time it wasn’t just because she’d been lying to her family, which was weighing heavily on her, or because of the stupid pictures that would embarrass the people she loved most. No. This time was worse, because the leak of those racy pictures drove home what it really meant to be with Zane.
During the long plane trip, she’d come up with a plan to go straight to her parents’ house and explain everything: the fake engagement, the pictures, and why she’d taken them. She was an adult. It wasn’t like they’d shame her for what she’d done as a teenager. Her father would be disappointed, though, and her mother? Willow had no idea how her mother would react, but she was pretty sure she’d feel like she’d failed Willow in some way by not making it clear that she could have talked to her. Even though she had made it abundantly clear. As conservative as her father was, her mother had always been as open about sex and emotions as Willow and her sisters would allow her to be. But as an insecure teenager taking a bold step, Willow hadn’t trusted anyone with her secret. Not even Bridgette.
Except Zane.
I’ve always trusted you.
Now, as she parked behind the bakery, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face her parents. Her heart was too broken, her emotions too raw. She went up to her apartment. Only the place where she and Zane had been so happy made her feel even emptier inside, and the tears she’d held in for more than seven hours came crashing down. She staggered to the bedroom and sank down to the bed. Her family would have to wait for an explanation until she wrapped her mind around the situation, and at the moment she wasn’t even close. She grabbed the pillow Zane had slept with and curled up. This situation would not beat her. She would not let it change the confident woman she’d worked so hard to become. She would rise above this the same way she’d risen above her heartbreak all those years ago. This time she wasn’t in it alone, though it was her choice to handle it by herself.
But the rest?
Trying to figure out how to navigate this new world with Zane?
That was like making what should be a perfect cake and taking it out of the oven too early—over and over again. For that she needed strength, and she was too emotionally drained and pissed off to think straight. She closed her eyes, clutching the pillow to her chest. His scent suffused with her tears, and the next thing she knew she was waking up and it was dark outside.
She sat up, disoriented, and checked the time on her phone. It was after seven o’clock, and she’d missed three calls from Zane and two from her mother. She needed to call them both, but first she needed sustenance. After washing her face, she went down to the bakery, moving robotically through the dark kitchen, and made a beeline for the freezer. She was pretty good at baking only what would sell each day, but Friday she’d had three leftover cupcakes, and now she wondered if the cupcake gods had been in on this cruel joke.
She set them on the counter, but even the thought of eating turned her stomach. There were too many lies rotting inside her. She hopped up on the counter beside the box of cupcakes, remembering when Zane had lifted her onto the counter.
How can I do it, Z? Your life is too exposed for me.
She couldn’t bring herself to let him go. She didn’t want to, no matter how hard things got.
She called her mother, closing her eyes in preparation.
“Willow? Honey, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes, noticing for the first time the shiny new oven across the room. She pushed from the counter, dumbfounded.
“Honey. Where are you?” her mother asked. “I’m coming to get you.”
“No,” she said quickly, kneeling to touch the pristine oven. “I’m okay, but . . .” I’m not okay. Zane had the oven put in. He had to. But how?
“Honey, we saw the pictures, and I know you’re not okay. I hear it in your voice. Talk to me, sweetie.”
You saw the pictures? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d hoped they hadn’t seen them. Snapping out of her shock, she turned away from the oven and focused on the more important issue. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you and Dad.” She told her mother why she’d had the pictures taken. Her mother listened in silence, allowing her to confess how hard she’d fallen for Zane that long-ago summer and how the guy she’d brought home from college that Christmas was just to make it appear as if she’d moved on, when in reality it had taken more than a decade. The only cure for true love was more of the person she loved.
“I’m sorry for lying to you, Mom, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I’m glad Zane was my first.”
“You don’t need to be sorry for any of it. Your body, your decision. I’ve always told you that. But I’m sad that you thought you had to go through it alone. You’re not the only Dalton child to have their heart broken or to do something embarrassing. It’s like a rite of passage in our family.”
Willow didn’t believe that. She couldn’t even imagine Talia doing anything embarrassing, much less getting her heart broken. “Thanks for understanding, but I am sorry about the pictures. Daddy must be livid.”
“No, honey. He’s confused, as is the entire family. But once you explain it to them, you know they’ll be there for you. But you might want to leave out the part about Zane being your first. Maybe you can just tell them you had a major crush on him.”
Tears of relief for her mother’s unconditional love slid down her cheeks.
“There’s more, Mom, and I’m not sure anyone will forgive me for this part.” Willow drew in another deep breath, chasing the calm she wondered if she’d ever catch up to again. “I’ve been lying to you about the engagement. It was a hoax to help Zane with his reputation, but then we fell in love. I’m sorry. But there is no engagement.”
Her mother was silent for so long Willow worried she’d lost the connection. She grabbed the box of cupcakes and headed out back. “Mom?” She locked the bakery door and headed for Chloe.
“We know.”
Willow stopped in her tracks. “You know?”
“Zane came over to talk to us Wednesday evening, and he explained the whole situation. That lie, Willow? That lie hurt. You’re not a kid anymore. You should be able to trust family above all else.”
Willow leaned against Chloe, feeling dizzy. He told you everything. To protect me. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“We understand why you both did it, and Zane took all the blame. But you and I both know we make our own choices, and I hope in the future you’ll know that we’d never betray you in any way.” Her mother paused, and it was all Willow could do to remain erect on buckling knees. “And, honey, that man loves you to the ends of the earth. He said that even if we never forgave him, he couldn’t bear it if he’d hurt your relationship with us. He’s a good man, Willow, and I know you’re devastated about these pictures. But your eighteen-year-old heart knew what it wanted, and that girl would stop at nothing to get it.”
That wasn’t true, but now wasn’t the time to go into that with her mother. She’d never picked up the pictures, which meant she’d stopped at her broken heart. But her broken heart hadn’t been too shattered to continue loving Zane. She had just buried that love deep enough to survive without him.
But there is no burying a love too big to contain.
“And now the photographer has sold them, or leaked them, and everyone I know and love will see them if they haven’t already.” Willow gripped the phone tighter.
“That’s true, sweetheart, and as embarrassing as that is for you,” her mother said empathetically, “just remember why you had them taken in the first place, baby girl. I think that’s where your strength will come from.”
IT WAS AFTER eleven o’clock when Zane finally pulled into Sweetwater. It had been hell not following Willow onto the plane, and refraining from calling her family had been equally difficult. He’d have given anything to know she was okay, but she’d wanted to talk with them herself, and he knew she’d slaughter him if he got in her way. He drove through the dark, deserted streets straight to her apartment, but Chloe wasn’t parked out back. Mentally ticking off the places she might be, he drove to each of her siblings’ houses and down to Dutch’s Pub, but Chloe was nowhere in sight. He headed for her parents’ house, and as he approached their street, he knew . . .
He parked on the side of the road and made his way through the woods, which reminded him of the last time he’d taken that walk. His pulse raced as hard as it had back then. Leaves crunched beneath his feet. The scents of pine and damp earth infiltrated his lungs as he neared the creek. He stopped at the edge of the forest, his heart swelling at the sight of Willow sitting on the green-and-blue blanket down by the water. He remembered afterward, how his hands had sweated at the thought that he’d have to act like they’d never made love. He could still recall her trusting green eyes blinking up at him and her sweet voice, pleading and commanding at once. Zane. I need you to do me a favor. It has to be you.
Pushing those memories aside was difficult, because he wanted to revel in them, to relive every second of their pre-sex discussion, and every breath they took until the moment he’d stood in this very same spot. But now wasn’t the time to reminisce. He needed to have her in his arms again, or his heart might leap from his chest and scurry across the ground all by itself.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped into the clearing. She turned with a worried look in her eyes, and relief swept over her features. Her lips curved up, and just as quickly, she pressed them together as he knelt beside her.
“Hi.” His emotions were so raw it was hard to push the words out. Her hair hung loose, blocking his view of her eyes.
“Hey. Sorry I haven’t called,” she said softly. “I couldn’t. I . . .” She looked out over the creek, and he couldn’t resist tucking her hair behind her ear so he could see her face.
“I know, babe. It’s okay.” He pushed the “Home” button on his phone, navigated to TMZ’s website, and handed her the phone. “Have you seen this?”
She pushed it away. “I don’t want to see any more of those pictures. Wait. Why are you here? You’re supposed to start filming in a few hours.”
“I made a deal with Steve. He gave me forty-eight hours to win you back, and in exchange I gave him the rights to direct my screenplay.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You . . .”
“I’ll produce it, but I wouldn’t care if I didn’t. I’d have come if he fired me. Wills. Do you trust me?”
Her eyes dampened as she nodded.
He placed the phone in her hand, curling her fingers around it. “Then look, please.”
Her gaze dropped to the phone, and she opened her fingers, leaning closer to get a better look. “What have you done?” She scrolled through the Austin Powers–slash–boudoir-style pictures of Zane sprawled across a bed, leaning against a pole, and a handful of other ridiculous shots.
He shrugged. “Pulled a few strings.”
Her smile reached her eyes as she took in a picture of Zane lying on his stomach on red silk sheets. His chin was propped up with one hand, his other hand resting on his hip. His knees were bent, red stiletto–clad feet pointed upward, and his eyes were heavily lined, giving the camera a sultry look. “Zane, you look ridiculous and surprisingly hot. But pink panties? High heels? The caption says you’ve secretly been cross-dressing for years. You’re insane. Why would you do this?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Nobody’s talking about your pictures anymore. Mine have taken over the spotlight.”
“But your reputation? A cross-dresser?”
“How do you know I don’t secretly love high heels?”
She laughed. “This is crazy, and thoughtful, but it doesn’t change the fact that millions of people have seen my body in risqué pictures that were meant only for you.”
“I can’t change that, but you weren’t naked. Panties and a bra cover a lot.” He reached over and scrolled to a picture of him wearing panties and a bra, leaning on a light post. “See?”
She laughed again. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you did this.”
“Then be ridiculous with me, baby. I love you. I’m sorry this happened, but it really will blow over.”
She sighed heavily, and he set the phone on the blanket and took her hand in his.
“Z, your reputation? The movie?”
“I don’t care about my rep or if anyone buys me as a romantic hero, because the only person who needs to believe in me is you. I love you, Wills. You love me. A few embarrassing pictures can never change that. Nothing can.”
“But I can’t live like this. I can’t be worried that my every move will be captured on film, or that skeletons will come out of my closet.”
He arched a brow. “Are there more I should know about?”
She rolled her eyes, and he had no intention of telling her how much he’d secretly come to love her eye rolls. They were very Willow.
“No,” she answered. “But you know what I mean.”
“I do. You don’t want to be in the spotlight. I get that. I’m sick of it, too. But even if I get out of acting, there will always be some adoring fans who want an autograph or a photographer who catches us sunbathing and snaps a shot. I can’t make it all go away, but I can try to protect you from it.”
Her eyes warmed. “I know you’ll try.”
“Then marry me, baby. Be ridiculous with me and loving and sexy and happy and sad and angry. Let me try to protect you from the craziness of it all. We’ve come so far. Don’t let anyone or anything steal our future. I don’t want to take another step without you.”
“Z,” she whispered, and the struggle in her eyes told him how much she loved him regardless of whatever words followed. “Our lives are so far apart.”
“No, baby. They were so far apart. I’m done in front of the camera. I’m over action movies, and I can’t pretend to be a romantic hero when the only person I want to romance is you. I love you with every ounce of my soul, Wills. You’re my other half. My best friend. You’re my everything, baby.”
“I love you, too.” A tear slid down her cheek. “But I’m not as strong as you. I can’t live in LA. I can’t leave everyone I know and love.”
“I know. That’s why I told your parents I’d buy the Grand Lady as soon as they find a place to live.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “You . . .” More tears tumbled down her cheeks.
“You’re home to me, Wills. If you can’t live in LA, neither can I.”
“But your career?”
“We’ll figure it all out together. But I promise you I will never ask you to move away from Sweetwater.” He took her left hand in his. “What do you say, Wills? You and me forever, and maybe someday we’ll have little sugar-addicted babies with cocky attitudes and stubborn streaks.”
Nodding emphatically, she threw herself into his arms. “Yes. Yes, Z. I want all of that. Life with you, stubborn babies . . . but I can’t be this selfish. If you need to be in LA, we’ll figure out a way.”
“Be selfish, sweetheart. Be as selfish as you’d like.” In that moment, he knew that Willow’s happiness had become his purpose.
He drew back and took her left hand in his, taking off the rented ring.
She tried to pull her hand free, but he held tight. “I said yes.”
“You hate this ring. It’s all wrong for you.” He withdrew a blue velvet bag from his pocket and turned her hand palm up.
“The rented ring is for napoleons. It’s overdone and gaudy. You’re a sticky bun, baby. Sweet, savory, and so filling I only need one. You need a ring that’s just as perfect for your busy flour-and-frosting-laden days as you are for me. I’ve spent this week trying to figure out what type of ring to give you.”
“Week? You knew you were going to propose for a week?”
He nodded. “Since the night at the lake, when you knocked down my walls, jumped inside, and locked the gate behind you, then got scared and hid in the tower, leaving me to nearly lose my mind.”
That earned him the sweetest, most genuine smile he’d ever seen.
“But every design I came up with paled in comparison to the one I had made for you with the money from my first acting job. The ring I had planned on giving you the Christmas after we’d first come together when we were mere babes in the woods.”
“You were going to give me a ring?” Her breathing went shallow as she watched him empty the bag, and the braided white-gold ring with inlaid round-cut diamonds landed in her palm. “Oh my goodness. Z . . .”
“Read the inscription. The inscription is new.”
She picked it up with trembling fingers, and he aimed the flashlight on his phone so she could read it, hearing the words in his head as she silently read them.
WILLS, YOU ARE MY MOMENT. Z
She lifted damp and excruciatingly beautiful eyes to his. “You’ve always been my moment.”
He slipped the ring on her finger. “No rules this time, baby, and no expectations beyond a loving future void of trickery.”
Willow smiled. “And whipped cream. Don’t forget the whipped cream. And frosting. I love frosting.”
“Frosting.” He pressed his lips to hers, feeling as though he could finally breathe.
“And dirty talk,” she said as they lay down on the blanket. “I like when you talk dirty to me.”
“I’ll do anything you want me to. Now can I please kiss you?”
She pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. You had a new oven installed at my bakery. I can’t accept that, Zane. You can’t keep doing big things like that.”
He touched his forehead to hers, smiling at his stubborn beauty. “Wills, you know how you’ll always love sweets?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll always do things big, baby. Especially for you. So if you can’t live with that, please tell me now.” He rocked his hips against her, and her eyes widened.
“Mm. I was wrong,” she said as he kissed her neck. “I do like it when you do things big. In fact, I love big.”
There beneath the summer moon, in the place where they had first come together, on the blanket that once held their young, nubile bodies, they made love until the dawn of the new day.
The dawn of their future.