“A deep Autumn, yes.”
I knew it. I mean, I figured he was an Autumn from the beginning, but it’s so satisfying to confirm my suspicions.The man looksgoodin deep Autumns. I turn, picking up the color I’ve been desperate to see draped on him. When I find the correct swatch, I lay it over the olive green, my heart rate picking up ever so slightly. It’s a deep sangria red, darker than rust with a richness that tantalizingly complements his features.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, Lo, I’m going to kiss you very soon.”
I don’t stop looking at him. I can’t. He’s just too gorgeous, and I’m in my happy place, doing what I love with the man I love.
I’ll put it politely and tell you that he followed through on his words.
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Jack
“This is it?” I ask.
“This isher,” Willow enunciates with a nod, her arm looped through mine as we stand in her parents’ foyer, staring at the tiny shrunken plant on display in the center of the marbled room. We didn’t stay long after our chat a few months ago when I met Don and Moira Sinclair.
“And she really gets her own seat when your parents fly with her?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“She once had a seat beside Orlando Bloom.” Her eyes widen with a slow nod at the bonsai. “Her life is the most glamorous of us all,” she adds with a whisper.
I grunt, sliding my hand down her sleeve to link my fingers with hers. I have to push aside the cuff of her hoodie up to find her fingers, or rathermyold hoodie, the one she claimed in the canyon and never returned. Even though it’s not technically hercolor, she says the warmth in the green is one she can get away with.
What she doesn’t know is that she can get away with anything, especially when she’s looking at me with those huge moss green eyes and my hoodie hitting her mid-thigh, her shorts barely peeking out and only her fingertips visible from beneath the sleeves.
She looks so adorable that I’m fighting to stop myself from pulling her into my arms right here and taking her up on her offer to veg out on my couch and binge some TV. If anyone else asks, I’m just an innocent bystander when my girlfriend puts all those K-dramas on.
But Willow needs this. She needs to be in this space, free of the pressure she felt before. And damn do I love watching Confident Willow in front of her family.
She uses her finger to dust a couple leaves on the little tree before murmuring a few words of encouragement and turning to me with a nod and I can’t help the infatuated grin that grows on my face. She’s adorable.
We walk to the kitchen to deposit a case of beers in the fridge while Giorgio waddles in beside us. After greeting her parents, we make our way outside to the party, dodging various huddles and gatherings of sports talk. I don’t mind the football discourse, and I’m confident I can hold my own with her family. But I’m content beside Willow.
What I don’t know is how I ever thought I stood a chance at resisting her charm in the first place. She purses her lips beside me, Giorgio cradled in her arms while she smiles at her cousin in that way that tells me she’s got an entirely different narrative unfolding within her head. I’ve lost track of the conversation, distracted by the tiny twitch of Willow’s lips when Emily, the infamously jealous cousin, gushes over the yacht her boyfriend Kyle just purchased.
I hide my own smile with a scowl at Dr. Kyle, when his eyes flick to Willow’s legs.
All of the tension she’s told me her family gatherings used to churn up is nowhere in the relaxed stance of her shoulders. She seems genuinely at ease amongst her thrill-seeking family, even as they shout scores and rules for the games they’re playing, competing like it’s the Olympics and not a friendly game of backyard cornhole.
Giorgio gets restless, and I take him from her, holding his leash so he can sniff around the potted plants on the patio. The scent of burger patties draws him to the grill, and Willow’s mom tosses him a piece, winking at me before she disappears to fulfill her hostess duties inside.
After failing to belittle Willow’s accomplishment, not only for finishing the hike, but also for helping close an ongoing smuggling-slash-murder case, Emily and Kyle smile with slight flares to their nostrils, as if they’re on the verge of combustion. It’s obvious Emily doesn’t like being upstaged, though she only has herself to blame.
Willow wasn’t even the one to bring up the topic. She’d rather stay under the radar, but the news report of the beautiful content creator apprehending a smuggling syndicate turned murderer went viral, and the spotlight seems to follow Willow wherever she goes now.
Emily may as well get used to the feeling of coming in second.
I guide Giorgio back to Willow, drawn to her side like a starved man.
“I’m surprised you brought a date, Willow,” Emily says after nobody responds to her monologue about the width of Kyle’s yacht. This guy is overcompensating in the biggest way. Unless you’re Elton John, nobody with any financial sense or an ounce of security in his masculinity buys asuperyacht.
“Jack’s not just a date, he’s part of the family,” Willow’s dad chimes in and chuckles, his large hand patting my shoulder before he wraps the other arm around Willow’s waist. “Jack saved my baby’s life, and if she doesn’t keep him around, I’ve already considered adopting him. Plus, he gets a nod of approval ‘cause he played pro football.” He adds that last part with a wink, and I swallow hard.
“What?” Willow scrunches her nose, making me want to kiss her adorably confused face.
Our relationship is new, okay. I haven’t had the chance to tell her everything. Plus, the professional sports thing is a sore topic for her—wasa sore topic, at least. I didn’t thinktheDon Sinclair would recognize me, but apparently, the man knows his football.
