CHAPTER THREE

PIERS

Standing on the porch, preparing to knock, I pause, taking advantage of the moment, studying the little cottage that Willow has made into a home for our son, my son. Grey shingled siding and crisp white trim make up the perfect little coastal retreat. I now know that this was her grandmother’s family home, passed down for generations to enjoy. The bold red door isn’t completely fitting of the eastern style, but it reminds me of London. Maybe she misses it more than she realizes. Maybe she misses…

Potted plants line the covered porch, including herbs and flowers overflowing from baskets. A porch swing hangs from one end with a blanket thrown over the back. Not simply a house, but a home, a home for a family. A family I haven’t been a part of. A mixture of pride and anger surges through me.

My hand raps on the door, scratching my knuckles with the force behind the knock. Just as I hear a noise on the other side, it bursts open, revealing Willow wearing an annoyed expression.

“You’re early,” she says, clearly out of breath. The thought of her breathless does something to me that I’d rather not think about.

“So it would seem.” My reply is short. I’m not angry, yet I am. I really don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I only know that I’m a man. One who cannot help my gaze from drifting over her body a little longer than it should as I appreciate the floral fabric covering her delicate frame. Just as I’m about to reach out she speaks.

“How long will we be gone?” she asks.

“That’s entirely up to you,” I reply.

“Do you ever give a straight answer,” she questions, and I shrug my shoulders, not really having a clear reply. In business, everything is black and white, but with her, everything is just a muddled gray. I need to regain control, keep things on my terms, and that means turning off my emotions.

“Well?” she presses, looking up at me with those big brown eyes, with flecks of green and gold. Eyes that have haunted my dreams. “How long will we be held captive, Mr. Nichols?” Her choice of words angers me, and my jaw aches from clenching shut and biting back the words that I want to say. How’s five years...As if sensing my annoyance, she walks away before I have a chance to say something I’ll regret, leaving me to shut the door and follow after her to the kitchen. This constant switch from needing to pull her into my arms and wanting to throttle her is baffling. It’s like a war between my body and my mind. Something else that I had a firm grasp on before her reappearance in my life.

§

WILLOW

“I was actually teasing.” I try to back track, but the darkened look in his eyes says he’s not buying it. Stepping to the table, I resume folding clothes, not bothering to look up, but feeling the heat of his stare on me. “Seriously, Piers. I need to know what to pack.”

“Pack only what you must; the rest we can purchase when we get home,” he instructs.

Home. I wish that were the case, but London is no longer my home, no matter how much I miss the consuming fog, a proper cup of tea in delicate china or watching the sun set over the hills of Everlend, the reflection of the cotton candy colors reflecting in the garden pond. New England is our home now, yet it would appear, England still holds pieces of my heart. Sadly, most of the broken ones. As I find myself wondering about here and there, then and now, my mind comes to rest on the single most important question of all. How will we share a child an ocean apart?

It was never my intention to keep Drew a secret, and now that Piers knows, he won’t walk away. It won’t be like before; he has a choice now. The fear that he won’t understand that I didn’t...well, that dark thought claws its way into my mind. We will have to figure out something. I feel a headache coming on, pressing my fingers to my temples in an effort to massage the tension away as I plead, “Piers, just an idea will do.”

His head slowly shifts up and then down as if sensing my waning patience. “I’d say three to four weeks should be ample time to start.” His eyes burn into mine as he speaks, saying a thousand more words than his mouth.

“To start?” I stare at him exasperated and resume folding the clothes to give my hands purpose, needing something to do to prevent them from trembling.

“We can’t just pack up and take off indefinitely,” I stress, and his eyes darken as the mood shifts.

“Willow, you packed up and took off for five years,” he throws back in my face, his comment knocking me square in the chest. Tears pricking the corners of my eyes, I turn to leave the room to retrieve my things, not wanting him to see the hurt reflected there.

He gently grabs my arm stopping me from walking out of the room. “Look it’s only a few weeks. Is that really too much to ask?” And he’s right. I hate that he’s right, and even though going back is more than just getting on an airplane, I can’t let my fears of returning keep Drew from this time with Piers.

“No, I suppose it’s not.” One glance at his hold on my arm has him releasing me. Trying to inject some courage into my voice and falling short, I continue, “But Drew’s nursery school, my job...”

“Oh, the illustrious W. M. Taylor,” he says with a knowing smile. Thankfully my jaw stays firmly in place and doesn’t fall to the floor. Of course he had his people check me out as soon as Drew mentioned my stories. You can’t hide anything from this man. Well, not entirely true considering I disappeared for years, but I’m done hiding. Something tells me, even if I wasn’t, he would find me this time.

“Just bring your supplies. You can work from there if you must. And it’s nearly summer, Drew will be fine.” I stare at him impassively, and the observant bugger he is, he reads the questions in my eyes. “How did I know, about your job? I only found out last night, but I must admit, I am curious, what does the M in your name stand for? Since, we both know your name is Wilhelmina Jane.”

“Well, aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes?” I bite back, annoyed at the teasing reminder of my birth name when I see the mischief in his eyes.

“I get using your mother’s family name, Taylor. You didn’t want to be found...” He steps closer to me, too close. The nearness of him does things to me it shouldn’t, and his eyes have gone soft, and the way he’s looking at me makes me think for the slightest of seconds that he’s forgotten I shattered his world. It’s not that I want him to hate me because I don’t. But I need him to keep his distance. It’s safer that way. For everyone.

“It’s just that there is so much I don’t know.” He lifts his hand, and before it can stroke my cheek, I step back from him, both physically and emotionally. Breathe.

“It’s for Mary, my grandmother Darling. Satisfied now?” Crossing my arms over my chest, trying to hold my own, I stare back at him. “If we’re going to make the flight, we need to get things prepared, not make idle chit chat.”

“You’re right, plenty of time for that in flight.” He takes the hint. “Where is Drew?”

“He’s upstairs napping. Why don’t you go on up and check on him while I finish up down here?” He nods. “And grab his suitcase for me. It’s at the foot of the bed.”

“Alright.” He complies for once.

When he leaves the room, I sink down into the chair at the table, putting my head in my hands, cursing myself for agreeing to go back to London with this man. If I can’t even stand over clean linens in a kitchen, my kitchen, and hold my own, how will I survive being stuck on a flying death trap with him in a transatlantic flight? And that’s not even taking into consideration what being back in London will be like. The memories that haunt my dreams, they will be manifest once I step foot off that plane.

Taking a deep breath, I stand, determined to put feelings and memories aside and resume the task at hand. Packing for our trip. I focus on thoughts of Drew, seeing the city and Everlend for the first time, and find myself feeling a little hopeful that this won’t be a mistake.