Page 71 of Love so Hot
"Your family... do you want to talk about them?" I venture cautiously, not wanting to pry but curious about the woman who has managed to dismantle my carefully constructed barriers.
She gives me a half-smile, shaking her head. "Not much to say, really. We don't see eye to eye on...well, almost everything."
"Fair enough." I offer her a smile, trying to convey that it's okay, that she doesn't have to share anything she isn't comfortable with.
"Thank you," she whispers, and there's a warmth in her eyes I haven't seen before.
As we move on from the bench, walking side by side through a pathway lined with flowering shrubs, something shifts inside me. I stumble over an exposed root and rather than burst out in anger, I crack a joke. "Guess the root of my problems just tripped me up."
Her laughter rings clear, and I find myself laughing too—genuine, unforced laughter. It's been a while since I've felt this light, this free.
"Watch out," I tease, regaining my balance. "You're turning me into a nature lover."
"Is that such a bad thing?" she retorts, her smile infectious.
"Guess not," I concede, and it hits me just how much I mean it.
The realization that I'm actually enjoying this—the garden, the company, the simple pleasure of being with someone who sees the world so differently—takes me by surprise. There's a pull towards her that goes beyond our agreement, beyond any pretense of fake dating. And as we pause to admire a cluster of vibrant flowers, I recognize the sensation blooming in my chest for what it is.
"Damn," I mutter under my breath.
"What is it?" Willow looks at me, concerned.
"Nothing," I say quickly, shaking my head. But it's not nothing; it's the dawning recognition that I'm falling for her.
We continue our walk, and I can't help but steal glances at her, at the way the sunlight catches in her hair, at her earnest expression when she talks about protecting the environment. This was supposed to be a charade, a means to an end, but it's becoming something else entirely—something real and terrifyingly exhilarating.
The sun dips low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. There's a small pond and we sit down in the grass near the water's edge. I can't help but watch Willow, her eyes reflecting the pond's stillness, like she's part of this place.
"Larry," she says, breaking the silence, "today was... it was special." Her voice carries the warmth of the fading light.
I lean back, feeling the wooden slats press against my spine. "I'm glad you think so. It wasn't your typical rowdy protest or corporate meeting, but it had its moments."
She chuckles, and it's like music blending with the evening chorus of crickets. "Definitely better than a boardroom."
"Hey now, don't knock the thrill of a good quarterly report." I wink, but my attempt at humor fades into something softer. "But yeah, today was different. Better."
Her smile spreads slowly, and it's genuine, reaching all the way to those bright green eyes. "Thank you for skipping out on whatever big business thing you had. I know that's not easy for you."
"Turns out, it was easier than I thought." I glance at my phone, screen dark with missed calls and ignored alerts. "I didn't even miss it."
"Really?" She turns to me.
"Really." I pocket my phone, determined to keep my world small, contained to just this grass, this pond, this moment with Willow. "They'll survive without me for one day."
"Sounds like someone's priorities are changing." She leans in, her shoulder brushing mine.
"Maybe they are." My gaze locks with hers, and I realize I don't want to look anywhere else. "Maybe it's about time they did."
The pond's surface breaks as a fish leaps for a twilight snack, rippling the reflection of the sky. We sit there, side by side, until the colors fade to dusky blue and the first stars dare to twinkle.
"Ready to head back?" I ask, though a part of me wishes we could stay here forever, suspended in this perfect slice of time.
"Yes." Willow stands, offering me a hand up. "Larry," she says suddenly, stopping to face me. "Thank you for today. For all of this."
"Anytime," I reply, meaning every word. And as we walk back toward the entrance of the garden, I know that whatever happens next, I can't go back to pretending that Willow is just a means to an end. Not anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Two