Page 86 of Fighting Fate

24

“Itold you so!” Willow smirks at me as I park the car on her parents’ drive and sit there staring at the large house…mini mansion.

Damn, it’s not the quaint abode I was expecting. Every time Willow’s spoken to me about it, it always sounds like she was raised in a small home with no personal space.

“I knew you’d shit your pants before you walked through the door,” she teases me again, sticking her tongue out as she jumps out of the car and stands in the headlights waiting for me.

I’m not shitting my pants. I’m confused. Shrugging off my surprise, I get out of the car and grab the flowers we picked up from my favourite florist and the wine from the fancy deli that does the stuffed peppers and olives Willow’s become obsessed with since she had lunch with Jan last week.

“Thought you said you said you guys were always crammed?” I ask as I meet her in front of the Range. “This house is pretty…big.”

“My parents extended a few years ago to make more room for the growing family. Mum has issues letting go, so we all spend the big holidays here…one big family sleepover…” Willow shrugs, giving me a wide smile as she adjusts her loose blouse so that it’s skimming her belly. It’s really popping now, and the bigger it gets, the better she looks. “There are always kids running all over the place, and it won’t be long until Dad wears her down enough to get the dogs he keeps telling her they need.”

“Sounds…”

“Hectic and full-on?” she finishes for me.

“Yes, but it also sounds pretty good. My dad always made sure we spent holidays and birthdays together. It’s why Mom is still here. She surprised me on my birthday, and now she’s refusing to go home until Rocky gets here.” It’s become a habit, and the instant my hand flattens to her belly, the little guy wriggles around. Not that I can feel it, but it always causes Willow to giggle. The sound is so beautiful that it makes my chest squeeze.

“We’re not calling him Rocky,” she whispers at me with a playful glare. “I’ve been going through the baby name book your mum gave me, and I actually like Mason.”

“Mason? Really?”

“It’s cute, and it sounds pretty with your surname. Mason Knight…I don’t know, but I think it has a nice ring to it.”

It’s the first time we’ve discussed names like this. Until now, I’ve been mostly teasing Willow because she’s obviously fussy. It’s also an easy way of keeping the banter between us alive.

“Mason Knight…” I murmur, trying it out for myself. This is monumental, or at least that’s how it feels as she smiles back at me with a scrunch of her nose.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s got a ring to it.” I smile back at her, tucking the bottle of wine under my arm so that I can hold her hand. It’s the one thing I know is safe. “It’s definitely a contender.”

We walk across one side of the double-fronted house to the bright red front door. As I’m about to ring the doorbell, Willow slaps my hand away. “We don’t need to announce ourselves just yet, Fight Club. I have keys.”

It’s the first time she’s called me that in months, and it takes her by surprise too because she stalls while grabbing her keys from her purse. But in true Willow fashion, she shrugs it off and carries on, letting us into the large hallway that’s littered with shoes along the side of the staircase and jackets on hooks and hanging on the banister.

“Remember,” Willow tells me, taking a deep breath. “Keep it cool. Don’t get all American on me and spill your guts at first glance. That woman in there”—she points toward the kitchen—“is a feelings leech. She’ll latch on, and before you know it, she’ll have your heart out in front of everyone. Trust me…Mum will go into shrink mode if you give her an in.”

“Okay…”

“Dad’s the safest out of the two of them. Stick with him.”

“All right. Avoid Mom. Stick to Dad.”

“Pretty much.” She grimaces with a glance toward the noise coming from the kitchen. “Fuck, everyone’s here already.”

“Who’s shitting themselves now?” I grin at her, bopping her nose with the tip of my finger.

“Aunt Will?” Daniel comes out of the room closest to us, with two other kids following behind him. “Hi, Rory.” He waves at me as the two younger girls stop in front of Willow and me, staring between us.

“Who’re you?” the brown-haired one asks at the same time as the other blonde-haired one stares down at Willow’s and my laced hands. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asks Willow with wide eyes.

“This is Rory. He’s my friend,” Willow replies, releasing my hand as she leans down to brush the girl’s hair back from her face.

“Oh, the wrestler,” the dark-haired girl giggles. “Nanny says you’re her boyfriend.”

“He is,” Daniel adds with a shrug.