CHAPTER TWO

WILLOW

“Well it’s very nice to meet you,” Piers finally speaks, breaking the awkward silence as he kneels and extends his hand. Drew squares his tiny shoulders, holding his ground. “I’m a friend of your mums,” Piers continues, trying to put Drew at ease, which I’m very grateful for.

I smile in agreement and Drew places his hand in Piers’. “And you as well, sir,” he replies, shaking his hand. Piers nods in approval of his impeccable manners.

My breath is stolen and my heart melts as I watch these two study one another, each holding a piece of my heart. The man and the boy. One is my past, and one is my life. But where do we go from here?

Drew removes his little hand and reaches out to touch Piers’ cheek. Resting his hand there he whispers, “You’re him.” Piers’ brow draws in confusion.

My smart little man continues, “The prince of the lost boys...you’re him.” Drew smiles like he just let him in on a huge secret. Which he has. He just doesn’t realize the complexity of it.

Piers’ questioning gaze moves to me. He doesn’t understand because he doesn’t know about the books or the illustrations. As much as I wish I could deny it, I guess I always knew deep down the hero in my story, in all of my stories, was based on him. I just never expected anyone to catch it, let alone my five-year-old.

“He thinks you look like a character from a series of children’s books,” I explain.

“Yes, what she said,” Drew interjects, causing Piers to smile, a genuine, full blown smile. It’s a site to behold, perfect white teeth and a strong square jaw. My heart flutters in my chest, and I quickly shut it down. There is no place for those feelings. Not anymore.

“Must be a dashing fellow, this prince,” Piers jokes with Drew, making it hard to remember why I must keep my distance, until Piers’ eyes find mine again, and the anger directed at me is a clear reminder. “Who knows.” Drew just shrugs, missing the exchange. Piers stands, and the moment is broken.

The silence is back, and I realize that we are still standing in the foyer.

“Would you like some coffee or perhaps tea?” I offer, and he looks stunned by my hospitality.

Drew grabs his hand, pulling him to the kitchen. “We have cookies,” he proudly declares.

Piers clears his throat. “Well who can say no to tea and biscuits?”

“Cookies.” Drew giggles, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Mum says biscuits too.”

My sweet, innocent boy still lives in a world where homemade chocolate chip cookies cure all. Piers lets him lead the way down the narrow hall that runs next to the staircase, back towards the kitchen.

I’m not sure what the protocol is for a time like this...Oh, hello after all these years. You look amazing, mouthwatering in fact. I’m a mess. You’ll have to excuse my frazzled state, but I’ve been busy raising a child alone. Oh, by the way here he is, my son, who’s actually our son...would you like cream and sugar? Get it together!

Sigh.

I turn to follow after them, feeling slightly self-conscious about our little cottage for the first time. I watch Piers as his gaze sweeps over the photos that cover the hallway walls. I can tell he wants to study them, but he doesn’t linger. We pass the sunken living room to the left, and I’m glad that I straightened up the night before. It may not be an estate or a castle, but it’s our home.

In the kitchen, I put the tea on and fix Drew his milk and cookies. The two of them sit at the bar, side by side. Watching them, I can’t help but think of all of the what ifs. But there’s no going back...Piers wouldn’t be sitting here in a designer suit if I had done things differently. He wouldn’t be the successful man he is today. So, while I may feel guilty, I’ll never regret doing what I had to do. He may think I ruined his life, when in all reality, I saved it. I gave him an out, and he took it. It’s me who should be angry.

A shrill ring breaks through my melancholy thoughts.

“Excuse me.” Piers steps into the hall to take the call.

I take the opportunity to mentally pull myself together and wipe up some crumbs from the counter.

“Sorry, I have to cut this visit short.” He returns, apologizing to Drew. “I have to deal with some business matters.”

Drew appears bummed, as they say, by Piers’ departure.

“Willow, we need...” he starts, and I shake my head, angling it towards where Drew sits, warning him not to say anymore.

“Drew, I’m going to walk Mr. Nichols out now,” I explain and he nods in response. “Will we meet again?” He questions Piers, who walks over and ruffles Drew’s curly dark hair.

“Oh, I think we’ll be seeing each other very soon, mate,” he responds, causing my eyebrows to jump in question and my stomach to sink.

As we turn to walk towards the door, I glance over my shoulder to see Drew grab the remaining cookie from Piers’ plate when he thinks no one is looking.

I follow Piers back through the house and out the door. When we reach the front porch, we both stand still. I’m unsure of what to say yet relieved to see that he also looks at a loss for words.

“Willow...I don’t even know where to begin.” He sighs. I look away, feeling ashamed because even though I know I did the right thing, it feels so wrong at this moment.

He places his hand under my chin and lifts my face. “Willow, please, just look at me.” As I do, the hurt and betrayal I see is worse than the anger that they replaced. “We still have unfinished business. I’ll admit more than I realized...but I have to know for sure. Drew he’s...he is, he’s mine, right?”

Tears sting my eyes, but I hate seeing this strong man standing before me so broken over a question he has to know the answer to. The regret I feel doesn’t even allow me the privilege of being angered by his accusation.

When I hesitate, he leans his forehead against mine and whispers, “Say. It.”

His doubt rips my heart right open. “Yes, yes!” I cry. “He is your son. Our son.”

He drops my chin, as if he can’t bear to touch me a second longer, and pulls himself back inside that cool exterior he wears so well. The shift was so seamless it was barely noticeable.

“You made a huge mistake,” he says, going to stand by the edge of the porch.

“Piers, you don’t…” I start to speak, worrying my hands at my waist.

“I’m not finished.” He glares over his shoulder at me. “I came here to settle things, to inform you about the will and your responsibilities. I was prepared to say goodbye...again. If that’s what you really wanted. I gave you time to grow up to get over whatever the hell happened that made you disappear in the first place. But now that I’m here, I see that things have changed. Instead of answers, I have more questions.” He is griping the railing so hard, I’m afraid the aged wood might crumble beneath his hands. The same way my heart is crumbling at his reaction.

“I can’t turn back the clock, Piers, and I wish things didn’t have to be this way. I tried—” My words stumble over an explanation.

“Well, you’re right about one thing, love, we can’t turn back time. But the thing that you’re wrong about is that things have to be this way. They don’t. I won’t allow it,” he commands.

“Forgive me, but what? I’m not following,” I say quietly, trying to read his expression and figure out where he’s going with all of this, my head spinning with the reality of what this means crashing down over me.

“It’s not just about you and me anymore, Willow. You may be done with me; hell, we might’ve been over before we had a chance to really begin. But I’m not done with you, not by a long shot.”

I stand, eyes wide and stunned into silence. Deep in my belly, I feel a stirring of hope...maybe he could still want me after all his time, after what I’ve done. But do I want him? Who am I kidding, I’ve always wanted him..

“I want the chance to know my son,” he clarifies. “I deserve a chance, regardless of what we once had.” And just like that, the hope, hope that he could still feel for me what I feel for him, is vanquished with one word. Had.

I put my hurt aside and nod in agreement because he’s right. He does deserve a chance. And this isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about Drew.

He appears lost in thought, and then a dark look crosses his face. “The plane leaves at sundown tomorrow. Pack whatever you must have,” he barks out as he walks down the stairs.

“What?” My voice betrays me, showing every bit of fear I’m feeling, as I rush to follow him.

“You heard me, Willow. Change of plans. I’m needed back in London, and you will both accompany me. It was actually the plan all along, you coming home to settle the estate business. I was prepared to do so on your terms, knowing full well you might not agree to come back. But plans have most definitely changed.”

Although I’m usually quiet in temperament, I’m never at a loss for words. Yet in this moment, my mouth is full of cotton.

He continues before I can find my voice. “Of course, we could do this the hard way, and I can request a paternity test, have the results rushed, and take him back with me. But I think it would be much better for Drew if you were to travel with us.” Fear creeps up my spine.

“How dare you threaten me!” I reach out to strike him, and he catches my hand, squeezing it tightly in his. “He’s my son!” I cry.

“He’s our son, love,” he fires back. “I’ve already lost enough time with him, and I’m not wasting a moment more, so you can slap me, yell, cry and plead. It won’t change a thing. He’s going to London with me. With or without you.”

It was like a punch to the gut. I understand he wants the chance to know Drew, but forcing my hand is not the way to go about it. He threw us away once, even though I’m sure he might not realize. My mind works overtime thinking, planning. We could always pack up and disappear. I can work from anywhere. But I know he would never stop searching, not now.

“We can’t go to London,” I try to reason with him. “Please, it doesn’t have to be this way!” I fight the urge to grab him as he walks away, to make him see.

“You’re right on that account. It didn’t have to be, but you disappeared once, and I won’t give you that chance again, not when my flesh and blood is sitting inside that house, not even knowing...Who. I. Am.”

His tone softens. “I came here and realized I lost so much more than I ever could have dreamed.” I lower my head in defeat. He’s not the only one who lost something.

He continues down the walkway, knowing he’s won. “I’ll call for you around 6,” he yells over his shoulder. “Oh, and Willow,” he meets my gaze. “Don’t try anything stupid.” With that, he climbs into the back of the waiting, black town car.

As it drives away, I fight to get my breathing under control. He doesn’t realize that I had to get lost so he could find his way. My dreams were shattered, but even in brokenness, I stayed away so he could make his come true. Isn’t that love? Being selfless?

Making my way back inside the house to talk to Drew, I plaster a smile on my face. I find my sweet boy sitting in front of the fridge, playing with magnets, practicing his letters.

“Look, Mum!” He proudly states, showing me that he wrote his name in bold, plastic letters. “D-R-E-W, Drew!”

“Fine job, buddy!” I sit down on the floor next to him, my back against the cabinet. “How would you like to go on a little trip,” I ask.

This grabs his attention. “Really,” he excitedly questions, revealing chocolate around his mouth.

“Really.” I smile, reaching to wipe away the cookie evidence from his adorable little face.

“When do we leave on our adventure,” he asks, jumping up, his green eyes shining bright.

My smile is no longer forced. “Tomorrow at sundown, my little pirate!” I reach out to tickle him. He laughs and pushes my hand away. “Mum, stop, hurry! We have to pack!” He runs down the hall, stopping to turn back. “Are we going in the car, on a train, or in a boat?” he rapidly fires at me.

My smile widens. “A plane,” I tell him, waiting for the reaction I know is sure to come.

“Yes!” He pumps his little fists in the air and runs back down the hall.

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going, Drew?” I call after him, hugging my knees to my chest, a circus of emotions dancing around inside me.

“Doesn’t matter where, Mum. We’re flying...Just like the prince of the lost boys.” His voice fades, and he stomps up the stairs.

A ragged sigh tickles my lips as the breath that I’d been holding since seeing him on our porch escapes. “Yes, sweet boy, just like the prince of the lost boys,” I say, letting my head fall against the tops of my knees, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.