CHAPTER ONE
WILLOW
Just a few more strokes and these fairy wings will be perfect. I roll my aching shoulders, stretching as I stand back, studying my work. Laying on the table before me is another little piece of myself, bled out on the page in a mesmerizing swirl of colors. It’s missing something...my mind can’t figure out exactly what it could be, and my heart screams that it knows. Goosebumps blossom down my exposed arms, and I wrap myself in a hug to ward off the chill of memories, both good and bad.
Lost in thought, I stare at the magical willow tree taunting me from the thick linen paper. Blinking back tears, I study the fairy fluttering beneath the tree, using the wispy vines as a barrier of protection from those who would harm her. Remembering another time, another place. Stolen kisses and magical lands. Lands that are laden with secrets. My secrets.
Loud banging erupts downstairs, jolting me back to reality, and I nearly spill the cup of soaking brushes. Shit, that was close! Setting the cup aside, I breathe a sigh of relief that the day’s work wasn’t in vain as my fingertips swipe gently under my eyes. Who could it be?
Dashing down the stairs I pull the phone out of my back pocket to see how long I was lost in my work. It’s only 2:35 and Drew isn’t due home till 3:00. I’m confused as to who it could be. Emotionally drained from today’s session, I’m not really in the mood for visitors, not that we get many visitors.
As I pause to grab an armful of clothes from the base of the stairs, the knocking grows persistently louder. “Coming!” I yell, continuing to the door.
Jerking it open, the greeting dies on my lips as the bottom falls out of my carefully constructed world...and I find myself staring into the greenest eyes I never thought I’d see again. My heartbeat speeds up to a deafening boom, boom, boom, echoing in my ears. Clothes fall to a pile at my feet as I grasp the door frame for support, fingers of one hand digging into the wood whilst the other is drawn to the base of my throat as I struggle to find breath...as if it’s willing air into my burning lungs.
“Hello, Willow.” His voice is the same but deeper; he is, after all, a man now. Hearing my name on his lips, tainted with distain, is like a lover’s caress and a sword to the heart, all at once.
My senses are on overload, so much so that my mind is partially convinced that he isn’t real. Grappling with the possibility that he is here, on my doorstep, causes a tsunami of emotions. He keeps his eyes trained on me as my mind struggles with the fact that this is not a dream.
Running a hand through my wild mane, suddenly I feel self-conscious under the weight of his stare. It’s a studio day. I’m barefoot and wearing torn jeans, an old white tank, and hair piled on my head. Not how I imagined I’d look when I finally saw him again. Because, I did...imagine it. About a million times.
He looks every bit perfection. Charcoal suit with a black shirt beneath, sans tie, smart black dress shoes...polished and poised. Finally lifting my eyes back up I notice a lean waist and broad shoulders. His normally unruly hair is slicked back, looking darker than it’s usual blackish brown. Stubble covers a jaw that’s square and defined and currently set in a scowl. But it’s his eyes that draw me in, they always have. Clearing his throat, he smirks, ever so slightly, watching me take him in. Arrogant arse!
“Are you going to ask me in, or shall we stand on the porch all day having a staring contest”? he questions, his demeanor cold while any hint of amusement has now disappeared.
“Pl—please come in Mr. Nichols?” I stammer, the door creaking as I hold it open wider, kicking the clothes out of the way. My body is going through the motions yet feels like I’m in a fog. The shock of seeing him is…
“Oh, so it’s Mr. Nichols now, is it?” His coldness transforms into mocking, interrupting my thoughts.
I take a deep breath as we leave the foyer and enter the living room, doing my best to remember my breeding. “Piers, welcome. Please have a seat,” I urge, proud of myself for hiding the quiver in my tone.
He sits on the small sofa, and I choose a chair opposite him, trying to keep my distance. My hands twist and turn, locking and unlocking in an attempt to settle my nerves. Everything I imagined I would say, if given the chance, remains lodged in my throat.
“Look...” I start at the same time he says, “I’m sure...”
“Please go ahead,” I offer, nodding in his direction.
He knows. It’s why he’s here. He knows. Pressure builds between my eyes as tears well up and I wait for him to say it. But the words never come. However, what does come shocks me nearly as much.
“I’m sure your wondering why I’m here,” he begins, “so I’ll just get right on with it. I’m the executor of the will, and since you couldn’t be troubled to return for the services nor the scheduled reading, I had to come to you and try to convince you to come back for a proper reading. It’s what the will stipulates. Which, I might add, was somewhat troublesome, seeing as how you disappeared to the other side of the globe. But then again, you were always better at hide and seek than I was.”
“What?” I question, not missing the bite in his tone but much too confused by his words to be wounded. This is about Wendy?
“Willow, you know you were like a daughter to Wendy and...well, James.” He sighs as if annoyed to have to spell it out for me.
“What about James?” I spit out, finding my voice as my anger starts to bubble to the surface, and I look him right in the eyes, challenging what he thinks he knows, this man who I don’t recognize.
He holds my gaze before hanging his head and releasing a ragged sigh. Seeing his guard drop, if even for only a second, makes me think that my Piers might still be there, under the polished perfection, even the scowl. He knows my feelings about James. He has to. “They both loved you, just in different ways—” he tries to explain, his tone remaining flat.
“So you’re on his side now? Hmmm. I suppose that’s what a university education buys these days...loyalty.” I cringed as the spiteful words fall from my mouth, standing and turning, so he can’t see the regret on my face.
I begin to pace as he continues. “Look, you were Wendy’s world, and when she passed— Willow, James has fallen ill. You need to take your place at the family estate. I really can’t say more. You would know this if you had just—”
I whirl around, finding some venom of my own. “Don’t lay that on me. You don’t get to come in here, into my house, and judge me. You have no idea how bad it hurt to not be there.” His comment cuts me to the quick. Not being there when Wendy died is a burden I’ll bear the rest of my life. And James, this news about James, comes as another shock.
“Infuriating as ever I see.” An annoyed look etches its way across his handsome face. “I’m not going to go at it with you all day. I know you’re angry, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re an heir, the only heir it seems, and there are things that need settled. Things that require your presence in London.”
I look at him with shock. Why would Wendy do that? I hadn’t been home in years...I couldn’t return. Collapsing on the sofa, my head falls heavily between my knees, fighting off a panic attack clawing it’s way to the surface. Breathe in. None of this makes any sense. Breathe out.
A comforting hand rests on my back, and his touch sends heat scorching through me. As if he could sense it as well, he quickly draws back as if I’ve burned him.
Hair falls out of my line of vision as I lift my head and notice he’s opened a briefcase and is now sorting papers.
“Wait, what? We have to do this now? I just need...a minute.” The chime of the Big Ben replica lets me know it’s now 3:00, and Drew will be home any minute. Panic sets in, he needs to go. Now! I jump up, startling him.
“I’m really sorry. I forgot I have somewhere to be,” I tell him. “Just leave me your number and I’ll be in touch.”
“Willow, calm down. I know you’re shocked and upset, but we really need to discuss arrangements.” Ignoring him, I walk to the window and stare out at blue skies. How serene and peaceful it seems just beyond this room. Ironic, since I feel like a thunderstorm has taken residence in my chest.
“What could be more important at this very moment?” he questions me, frustration lacing his tone and continues rummaging around in his damn satchel. I turn and look at him, sitting on my sofa. Discussing wills and death like it’s nothing. I feel like I’ve been sucked into some type of alternate universe. He looks up and stares right through me as if he’s not a puddle of nerves at being face to face after nearly six years, his tone growing more frigid. “Then once this is settled, we have some unfinished business of our own to address.”
My gaze falls to the floor. I don’t want to be rude, but he can’t be here when Drew gets home. This won’t end well.
“Piers, please, I know...I’m sure this has got to be difficult for you as well, and you’ve traveled so far. I know there’s so much left to be said...but please I need—time, er— a day, to prepare,” I attempt to plead, but in my flustered state, I sound like a blubbering idiot.
Taking a deep breath, I try again. “Where are you staying?”
He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his tell that he is more effected than he’s letting on. Then he hands me a gold embossed business card. “I’m staying...”
The slam of the door stops him from speaking. A thud, followed by footsteps stomping across the wood floor echo in the silence. My heart accompanies each thud with a boom as I rush past Piers to the door to greet the man in my life.
“Welcome home, my love,” I mumble showering him with kisses as he hugs me tight. I’m smiling on the outside and crumbling on the inside, fear sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach.
The deep rumble of a throat clearing over my shoulder has me standing and pushing Drew behind me defensively. My years of therapy couldn’t prepare me for this moment. The moment my worlds collide.
Piers looks at me in confusion and then down, to where a dark-haired boy with emerald eyes fidgets and peaks around my legs.
I hold my breath, unsure of what to say. My ribs feel bruised from the inside out as my heart pulses an erratic dance of uncertainty. Drew looks up at me as if sensing my unease. “Mummy?”
I look into his perfect little face and green eyes full of love, until a sharp gasp draws my attention to those same green eyes, burning with rage across the foyer.