Page 89 of Fighting Fate
“God, he’s already got me a fucking babysitter. Please don’t give him any other ideas.”
Willow tries to tug me away, but we’ve already been waiting for weeks for the detectives to find anything and do something. But so far, we’ve got crickets.
“Are you still getting the letters?”
“They’re just letters, Dory, and anyway,” she huffs, turning to scowl at me. “You’ve either got Andrew following me around, or I’m with you. It’s getting ridiculously out of hand, and no one seems to give a shit that it’s only making it all worse for me. So, please…please, drop it. For one day at least.”
Before either Dorian or I can say anything, she’s storming up the stairs, leaving us both staring after her. Watching her unravel like this kills me. I know she’s scared. I know she’s tired. And it’s because of me. So how can I do nothing to protect her and our child?
“She’s always been like this. When she feels threatened, she buries her head in the sand…” Dorian tells me. “Maybe it’s a creative thing? She escapes into her own safe bubble, but eventually, she’ll see sense.”
“I’m trying my best to make it all better…to give her what she needs…”
“And she’ll come around.” Dorian gives me a reassuring smile before heading back into the kitchen.
I hope she’s right, because I don’t know how much longer I can take this push-and-pull. I love her, and I want her more than anything.
“All the way to the top,” Dorian tells me as I stare up the stairs. “Third room to the left. I wouldn’t bother knocking.”
Without a second thought, I take the stairs up two at a time.
Willow owns my heart and my soul. She’s the only woman I’ve ever truly cared about. The mother of my child…
I can’t live without her. I refuse to.
* * *
The lights are still dimmed,and the curtain is closing as the orchestra play on. I’m blown away by the atmosphere, but more so by this side of Willow. I’ve always known she’s incredible, and I’ve never doubted that it extends beyond our personal connection to every other aspect of her life. However, seeing her up on the stage is phenomenal.
“That was brilliant,” Mom gushes at Susan as we stand for the ovation when the cast comes back out. “Orla would’ve loved it.”
“The first show is always the best one, but don’t tell Willow I said that, or she’ll be devastated. As odd as it sounds, she’s one of those people that flourishes with nerves and pressure, but she’s also a fast adapter.”
“I can see that,” Mom muses with a smile she reserves for her favourite people.
“The mouth on her would tell you otherwise. Don’t let it fool you—she’s the softest of the lot,” James says as he claps hard and loud, as though he wants to be heard above the entire cacophony of the theatre.
“I always say that she’s hard work, but she’s also a hard worker, and she loves all of this.” Frank opens the curtains of our private box overlooking the stage as the cast disappears into the wings.
There’s a short pause when Willow looks up and our eyes meet into the muted light. I can feel her happiness and adrenaline as she smiles. Her face is all scrunched up, and her shoulders pull in tight, as though she’s about to explode. This is how I always want her—too happy to contain it. With a smile so fucking big that it pinches at her nose and eyes.
It’s all over too soon, leaving me so damn empty and bereft without her in my sights. My chest is cracked out, and I don’t know how to put it back together anymore. Nothing works, and the closer we are to one another, the wider it gapes.
Willow is so fucking incredible. So out of this world. Nothing compares. Nothing can fill the hollowness she leaves in her wake. She is irreplaceable. And although it was never meant to be this way, she is my existence. The one thing I truly cannot live without. She is my sun, and it’s only in her orbit that I am home.
“Hey, you coming?” Frank slaps my shoulder as I continue staring at the empty stage. When I don’t move, he sinks into the empty seat beside me. “I didn’t see any of this coming,” he says after a beat. “No doubt she’s told you already, but you’re not her type. The girl has tragic love story stamped all over her, and there isn’t an asshole out there that doesn’t see it. I think sometimes they take it as a challenge on how they can devastate her the most.”
Putting his feet up on the brass railing, Frank sinks back into his chair. He’s staring up at the intricately painted sky, humming one of the songs from the show. Meanwhile, I’m still focused on that empty spot on the stage where she looked up at me.
“That girl…” A small laugh pushes from me. “She’s made for me. Everything about her is perfect for me.”
“If I believed in fate or any of that nonsense, I might agree with you. But I don’t. I believe that you make your own luck and design your own future.”
“I don’t disagree with you. To an extent, you’re right. At the same time, I believe that life breaks you in ways…it gives you weaknesses that require something and someone extraordinary to push past them. I don’t know. I’m not a philosopher or some poet that can put it all into sense and words. I just know what it feels like to have her and to be without her…”
“Regardless of all that…” he sighs. “You’re a fighter, Rory, so keep fighting because it doesn’t matter how tough a cookie is, it always crumbles, right?”
“Sure.”