Chapter Thirty-Four WILLOW

I wake up to bright sunshine filling the bedroom. The heavy silk white and pink toile curtains are pulled back, letting an abundance of light in, and I swear I even hear birds chirping. Like I’m waking up in a Disney movie full of talking animals and fairy tales.

“You’re awake,” Iris says when I sit up and shove my hair out of my face. I slept in the same clothes I wore last night, and I feel all grimy and gross. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay, I guess.” I glance down at myself, pulling my crewneck sweatshirt away from my chest. “I tossed and turned a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Iris smiles at me, but I can’t manage to muster one up in return. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I think Rhett hates me,” I tell her, pressing my lips together when I feel a sob try to form in my throat. Nope, I refuse to cry over this again. I’m being silly.

“Why would you think that?” She sounds genuinely confused.

I explain everything that happened last night, leaving out a few not so important details to the story. Like how good of a kisser Rhett is. And how I basically threw myself at him.

“And then I said I wanted to keep what we’re doing a secret.” I bite my lower lip, not about to tell her why I said that. The moment I tell her about Westscott’s threats, she’ll blab to everyone—the first person being her dad who will make it his life’s mission to get Westscott fired, which is pointless. God knows what Westscott would tell him about me. I’m sure he’d make up lies and maybe even try to spread rumors about me? I don’t know how vindictive this man is.

I can’t risk it.

“He was offended by my suggestion and accused me of wanting to hide our relationship like I was ashamed of him. And then when I said I had a reputation to uphold, he became even angrier and kicked me out of his room.” A single tear streaks down my face. “See? He hates me.”

“You said you had a reputation to uphold?” Iris winces. “Oh, Willow.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t know what I meant.” I throw my arms up in the air, frustrated with the entire situation and myself in particular. I’ve only made everything worse.

“You’re going to have to apologize to him.” Iris’s expression is somber, and I know she’s right. Iris is not big on apologies. She never wants to admit when she’s wrong. And she tries to get me to act the same way when I’m the one who’s ready to say sorry, even if it’s not really my fault.

“I know.” I blow out a harsh breath. “I want to. I just … I hope I didn’t ruin everything.”

“What did you mean by the reputation thing? That’s probably what hurt him the most,” Iris points out.

“Everyone has all of these expectations for me. They all want me to act and look a certain way. I’m not supposed to cause any issues and I’m always expected to be a—good girl. And I sort of said that to him but without enough context, so he immediately assumed I was saying he isn’t good enough to be seen with me.”

“Sounds like you’ll really need to explain yourself.”

“Yeah.” I know it’s bad when Iris isn’t telling me I’ll be okay. She’s the biggest hype girl around.

“It’ll be fine.” The false smile on Iris’s face tells me everything I need to know. She has zero faith I’ll be able to work this out with Rhett. “You just need to get your feelings across to him the best that you can so he’ll understand. Hopefully.”

“Yes. Exactly.” I climb out of bed and go to the window, staring out at the front drive. There’s an unfamiliar car idling in the driveway. Sleek and sporty and gleaming black. I watch as Brooks climbs out of the driver’s seat and goes to the trunk, extracting a large, black duffel bag out of it.

That’s right—Rhett told me Brooks was showing up today. I didn’t think he’d be here this early.

“You’ll never believe who just arrived,” I murmur, eager for the subject change.

“Who?” Iris sounds bored, and she doesn’t budge from her bed.

“Come and see.”

“Seriously, Willow? Is it that big of a deal?”

“Oh yeah.” I keep my back to her, my heart leaping to my throat when I see Rhett emerge from the front door, his brother and mine flanking either side of him. They all go to Brooks and greet him enthusiastically. “You better hurry before he disappears.”

I hear much grumbling and cursing as Iris drags herself out of bed and shuffles over to the window. “This better be good.”

I hold back the curtain and step away from the window to give her a better view, but otherwise don’t say a thing. She shifts closer to the window, her eyebrows drawing together. Her mouth hanging open.

“What the hell?”

“It’s Brooks.”

“I can see that,” she says sarcastically, bracing one hand on the window as she continues to watch them. “What is he doing here?”

“Looks like the guys invited him.” I’m not about to tell her that I knew he was coming. She’d probably be furious that I didn’t give her a heads up.

Besides, with all my drama and weepiness, I sort of forgot.

“God, he’s probably here for the entire weekend. How am I going to avoid him?” She turns to face me.

“Why would you want to avoid him?”

“This is my home. My sanctuary. I’m sure your brother is behind this.” Iris marches across her bedroom and goes to her massive armoire, ripping open the doors and scanning the mess of clothing on the shelves. It looks like a bomb went off in there. I see a pile of designer bags stacked on top of each other on the top shelf and wince. My mother would die if she saw that. “I need to wear something spectacular.”

I glance down at my sweaty clothes from last night with a frown. “I need to take a shower.”

“Hurry and take one then. We need to go down there together as a united front.” The determination in Iris’s voice is just the fuel I need to get motivated.

She’s right. We need to be a united front. And I need to look my best when I apologize to Rhett.

I can only hope he’ll accept what I have to say and forgive me.

***

Forty minutes later, Iris and I are downstairs, headed for the dining room. The scent of cooked bacon lingers in the air and my stomach growls, despite feeling nauseous.

Iris is wearing a cream knit tank dress that fits her like a glove. She’s wearing nothing underneath it because she didn’t want lines showing—direct quote. Her hair is in a messy bun and she’s got giant gold hoops hanging from her ears. Not a lick of makeup is on her face save for a shiny lip gloss coating her mouth, and she’s never looked better.

Brooks is going to swallow his tongue when he sees her.

I’m also wearing a dress. Black and flowy that nips in at the waist and has tiny buttons on the bodice. I left a few undone and somehow, Iris convinced me not to wear a bra, which I regret. My boobs are huge and when they’re uncontained, it feels like they’re constantly in the way.

But she told me I didn’t have a choice. Why I listen to her, I don’t know.

“Rhett will realize you’re not wearing a bra and he’ll get stuck on your tits. You could tell him you’re sorry you made him mad, but you’re going to have to kill him, and he’d agree because he’d be too caught up in trying to figure out the exact color of your nipples,”she said right before we left her bedroom.

That sounded like a far-fetched explanation, but there’s not a lot of fight in me, so I decided to go along with it.

We enter the dining room to find all of them already at the table: Rowan, Callahan, Brooks and Rhett. Along with Vaughn and Beau, our little brothers, who are sitting with the older boys, stars in their eyes as they listen to them speak.

My heart aches a little when I see Rhett sitting there, his head carefully averted so he doesn’t notice me. Is he doing that on purpose? Is he that disgusted with me that he can’t even look at me?

I follow Iris to the sideboard where breakfast awaits, grabbing a warmed plate and serving myself scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon and a bunch of strawberries. Marta bustles in just as we’re about to sit, smiling warmly at both of us.

“Iced vanilla lattes for the two of you, hmm?” She’s already got them in her hands, setting them on the table once we sit.

“You’re a vanilla latte drinker now?” I ask Iris, my voice low.

She shrugs one shoulder. “I put in my order with her when you were taking a shower. I’m trying to lower my sugar intake.”

I send an amused glance in the housekeeper’s direction.

“Thank you, Marta,” I say, grateful for her attentiveness.

“You’re a doll, Marta.” Iris practically shouts this as she grabs her glass and sips noisily from the straw, catching the attention from all the boys at the table. She studies them, her lips still wrapped around the straw, her eyes wide before she lets it go to speak. “Oh, am I disturbing you?”

Rhett says nothing. Cal and Row send each other secretive looks while Brooks blatantly stares at Iris.

“Nice … dress,” he says, his gaze lingering on her chest.

Iris doesn’t miss a beat, thrusting her chest out, her tiny nipples poking against the fabric. “Knew you’d love it, Brooksie.”

The younger boys snicker, going silent when Brooks sends them a menacing look.

Rhett finally chooses this moment to glance down the table, his gaze sweeping over me in an almost dismissive manner. My appetite disappears when he resumes eating, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth, smiling at something Row said to him.

“Men,” Iris says out of the side of her mouth.

“They’re annoying,” I add, nibbling on a piece of bacon. I need to eat something or I’m going to feel terrible for the rest of the day.

“Children!” Iris’s mother bursts into the dining room, a big smile on her face. “It’s so good to see you all congregated in here.”

“Hi, Mom,” Iris says while Vaughn waves at Summer.

“We have new people here this morning.” Summer’s gaze lands on the boys. “Brooks Crosby. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Hi, Mrs. Lancaster.” His cheeks are pink and he ducks his head, obviously feeling awkward. Iris snorts, but no one acknowledges it.

“And, Callahan … I remember you were here a few weeks ago. Nice to see you again.” Summer smiles at Cal.

“Thank you for having us. This is my brother, Rhett.” Cal points at him.

“Wait, you’re the quarterback.” Summer tilts her head to the side. “The one who’s transforming the athletics department at Lancaster Prep.”

“I don’t know if I’m transforming the entire program …” Rhett starts, but Summer cuts him off.

“I’ve heard plenty about you and how the football team has helped student enrollment,” she says. “We’ll have to make sure and attend a game soon.”

“I’d appreciate having you in the stands,” Rhett says, ever so diplomatic.

Iris kicks me under the table and I glare at her, unsure how she wants me to react.

“The reason I actually came in here was to warn you all that there’s a party being held at the house this afternoon for Paris and Pru,” Summer explains. “Their birthday is Tuesday but their parents wanted them to have an early celebration this weekend. They’re turning thirteen.”

Paris and Pru are Carolina and West’s twin daughters.

“A party for a bunch of thirteen-year-old girls?” Vaughn tosses his napkin on top of his empty plate. “I’m out.”

Hilarious, considering he’s the same age.

“Vaughn, you are most definitely not out. They’re your closest cousins besides Beau,” Summer gently chastises. The four of you have grown up together, along with Christopher. You are definitely going to this party. You are too, Beau.”

Chris is Sylvie and Spencer’s only son. There are five of them that are all the same age and they’ve always been close, just like Summer says.

Both boys actually groan in misery, making me roll my eyes.

“I was hoping you two would help.” Summer turns her attention to us. “There will be a total of fifteen girls at the party, along with some family, and I’m sure it will be complete mayhem.”

“What do you want us to do?” Iris asks.

“Just be present. That’s all I ask. Participate in any of the activities or games.”

“There are games?” Iris’s expression turns vaguely horrified. “That sounds like torture.”

“It won’t be so bad.” Summer’s gaze slides to mine. “You don’t mind helping, do you, Willow?”

“Of course not. I’m happy to help and it sounds like fun.” As fun as fifteen girls could be—which sounds a little terrifying, but I don’t mention that. “Is there a theme for the party?”

“Everything is pink and girly,” Summer says, which causes the boys to groan some more. The withering stare Iris sends in their direction would devastate weaker men, but no one reacts. “Oh, and there will be a fortune teller there too. Though she does things a little differently.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun.” Iris lightly jabs me in the ribs with her elbow. “How does she read you your fortune?”

“You have to kiss a card with lipstick. She reads lip prints. She’s a little quirky but pretty much anyone who tells you your fortune has to be quirky,” Summer explains.

“I can’t wait.” Iris rubs her hands together, her gaze stuck on Brooks, who stares back at her helplessly. “I’m looking forward to what my fortune will say.”

“Me too,” I murmur, though I’m lying.

It sounds intimidating. What if the fortune teller says something I don’t want to hear? I feel bad enough about everything that’s happened since last night with Rhett. I don’t care about having my fortune told.

I need to fix what happened with him—and hopefully it’s not too late.