Chapter 7
* * *
WILLOW
Willow stared at her phone– so full of hurt, shock, and hope.
When Ruth Kendall told her two days ago to ‘go buy something a tramp would wear on a street corner’ – Willow had nearly gotten up from the table and walked out until she heard the reasoning behind it. That had been an enlightening conversation that changed everything.
“Look, men are very simple to understand. They want comfort, love, to feel safe, warm, and welcome – and then comes part two. You need to get his attention, knock his world off his axis, stop the charging bull in his tracks and then feed him.”
“How is this supposed to work, he’s not going to…”
“Catch him at work. To Alec, his work is mentally ‘safe’ to him and something he does all the time. Work is not a threat to his emotional well-being. It’s a challenge. Secondly, you need him to stop his brain from processing what is going on and you need those two seconds, young lady, before Alec deems you a threat.”
“How am I supposed to do all of that within a matter of minutes?”
“That is what the lingerie is for,” Ruth Kendall smirked and tapped her head. “Men rule the roost – but only because the helpless little hens let them. Use your brain and circumvent things.”
Willow looked at the two shrewd faces watching her with a new set of eyes. Alec’s mother didn’t hate her; she hated what had happened and wanted things to change for her son. She was protecting him like a mother bear watching over her cub. Ruth Kendall was a formidable opponent and knew everyone in this town – and was choosing to be her ally, to help her friend and bring the two of them together.
“You aren’t going to lie,” Ruth began simply. “Men hate liars, and it shuts them down immediately… but we’re going to be clever. You’ll call 9-1-1 and tell them that you are a young lady with heart problems.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“That’s so wrong,” Willow balked. “I’m taking aid from someone else who might need it and…”
“You are a young lady – with problems of the heart – so it’s not a lie,” Ruth said firmly, looking at her. “Be dressed in a hot little number showing a lot of skin because men love looking at women. I don’t care if they are thirteen with their first…”
“Ruth!” Mary protested, looking utterly shocked.
“Ha!” Ruth exclaimed, laughing and pointing at Alec’s mother. “She just proved my point. I was going to say ‘whiskers,’ but we all know that men think with their trousers from the moment they go into puberty until their ticker stops. If you give a man privacy, two magazines, and enough time, they are going to look at the boobs – every single time because they cannot help it. It’s programmed in their DNA, and because we know that hard fact… we win.”
“How?”
“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” Ruth said haughtily, smiled, and leaned forward. “You do the phone call, be in your lingerie, and when he gets there… you’ve got maybe three minutes to look helpless, say all the things he wants to hear whether you think them or not, and then offer him cookies.”
“Cookies do not make relationships work.”
“Girl, pump your man full of sugar and let it work. Ever heard the term ‘Age before Beauty’? Helloooo?” Ruth snapped. “There’s a reason. I know how to work what I’ve got because I’ve made a lot of mistakes over the years. Age trumps beauty every single time because the lot of you is na?ve but think you know it all. Oh, you are learning, but you know diddlysquat until you are in your thirties. It takes men even longer to mature and get their acts together.”
Willow sat back in her chair and stared at the two women. She wasn’t quite sure if she should be insulted – or take lessons from the two geniuses before her. Obviously, she needed to think differently and could learn a lot from these two who were taking her under their wing.
“Comfort zone, look sexy yet vulnerable, and lots of sugar,” she whispered, dumbstruck at the simplicity of such a thing… and how hard it was going to be to manage this. Alec was never going to fall for any of this. He was going to get mad at her for manipulating him and never talk to her again.
“Or carbs,” Ruth shrugged. “Warm, fresh baked bread works. Tiramisu, lasagna, spaghetti, pizza— there’s a reason Italians have a reputation as excellent lovers – Latinos, too. Let me just say that I’m really glad my huevos expired years ago.”
Willow let out a nervous laugh as Ruth leaned closer.
“Now, if you decide Alec isn’t the one for you and you want something a little more exciting, let me tell you about…”
Mary Beckett’s eyes got wide as she grabbed her friend by the arm, giving her a piercing stare that wasn’t hard to misunderstand.
“Shut up, Ruth,” the woman hissed angrily. “I want grandbabies, and Alec never got over her. We’re helping, not telling her how to take another lover.”
“Just do what I said,” Ruth said confidently, reaching over the table to pat her hand. “And I also recommend that you two start having lunches, getting together, and mend this bridge between you both. If you are going to be family someday, you’ll need to get along.”
Willow smiled nervously at her phone, still in shock that all of it had worked. Maybe there was something to the two women’s suggestions – and so far, things were happening. What felt as hopeless as moving one of the Moai from its rooted spot on Easter Island now felt manageable.
Alec was coming over for dinner tomorrow night – and she was going to apply most of the same tactics. The house needed to be comfortable and welcoming, and put him at ease. She needed to be dressed nicely, enough to stop him in his tracks and pump him full of carbs or sugar – or both.
And she was going to be ready.
* * *
Willow lookedat the clock nervously and frowned.
They really hadn’t agreed on a time other than ‘dinner,’ but it was going on eight o’clock at night and she was starting to get concerned. The lasagna was sitting on top of the oven with foil to try to keep it warm. She really didn’t want to put it back in because it would dry out. The tiramisu she made was in the fridge – and if Alec stood her up?
“I’m gonna eat the entire thing and go puke on Ruth Kendall,” she muttered hotly, rising from the couch where she’d plopped down casually not ten minutes ago after pacing and smoothing her dress for the fifteenth time since she’d put it on. Normally, when she was at home, she lounged around in shorts or blue jeans, but since Alec was coming over, she dressed up.
She was wearing a royal blue spandex wiggle dress that she’d splurged on last year on Black Friday shopping online, hoping someday that she’d have a reason to wear it. The gown was clingy, gathered in the right areas, and sure held in every single thing, making her look like a supermodel instead of a boring, plain woman with a job that was causing her to get cellulite on her butt and hips.
And paused as she turned off the news… hearing a sound.
A voice.
Outside.
Curious, she went toward the sound and heard someone speaking. Peering out the peephole, she saw Alec appear – and disappear – from her sight before he reappeared. He was pacing the length of her front porch, talking to himself, and rubbing the back of his neck, looking completely freaked out in the porch light, casting a glow on his features.
Oh yes, she recognized that look.
Stunned, she saw him stop before the door, hold up his hand like he was about to knock, and then he turned away, walking down the steps – only to turn back toward her door. He marched forward, looked like he was going to knock again and resumed his pacing.
Comfort him, knock his socks off, offer him carbs,she thought simply – opening the front door and she saw him freeze like a deer in headlights.
“Do you want to come inside where it’s air-conditioned?” she said softly, trying to be as gentle as possible. “Maybe have a beer?” – and stepped forward so he could see her dress.
Alec’s eyes got huge as they looked her up and down before she saw his Adam’s Apple bob in a telling manner. His lips parted as he stood there, letting his hand drop from where he’d been rubbing his neck, and paused, obviously distracted.
“Whoa…” he breathed, and Willow fought the urge to shout happily.
“Come in,” she invited gently. “I’ll get you a beer…”
And Willow walked away from the door frame, leaving the front door open. It was almost like leading a frightened animal into a cage with morsels of food – and cringed at the similarities. She didn’t want to lure him, prey on him, or manipulate the situation – but she also wasn’t getting anywhere fast on her own. It was time to use different tactics, and this seemed to be working.
She almost turned to see if he was going to come inside – only to hear the door open slowly. Continuing what she was doing, she pulled two beers from the fridge and removed the bottle caps before turning to look at his wary face. He was standing there, looking around nervously, completely different from when he was here before.
Last time he was ‘working’… and this was a ‘jobsite.’
This time, he was looking at her home like a prey sizing up a predator.
Willow did not want to think of herself as a predator in the slightest – and quickly took a sip of her beer, handing him the other one casually. She didn’t say a word, wanting him to be able to relax. Both of them were eyeing the other nervously and this was not going how she thought it would.
Comfort, knock his socks off, then feed him.
“I’m glad you are here,” she said hesitantly and winced. That was not going to knock his socks off. He was in the middle of raising the beer to his lips and froze. She could practically see his mind working, clicking frantically, and knew what was coming.
Turning slightly, she looked down and brushed an imaginary bit of flour from her dress. Please look, oh please just look and like what you see, she thought frantically. Gimmie a chance, Alec – I’m not going to mess things up this time.
“Sorry,” she began nervously, dusting herself off and casting a look at him. Sure enough, his eyes were focused on her, and he was looking at her sideways, around the beer bottle, nearly guzzling the thing, gulping audibly.
Fighting back a sigh of relief, she nodded.
“I know you must be hungry because it’s so late. The food is ready. Do you want to have a seat, and I’ll make our plates?”
He stopped drinking his beer and looked at his bottle in surprise before nodding simply.
“Another?”
“I think I’ll have water.”
“Of course,” she said simply, moving to go make him a tall glass of iced water and then prepare their plates. She quickly set the glass down on the table where one of the placemats was, realizing he wasn’t so quick to move toward the seating. Taking a seat meant they were having dinner together. Dinner meant conversation. Conversation meant discussing their past, and he obviously wasn’t keen on that either.
She quickly served up a large piece of lasagna for him, put the dinner rolls in a small bread basket, and then took both to the table. Without a word, she moved to get her plate and the butter dish, bringing both to the opposite place setting, before looking at him.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Willow tried to bury the hurt that his words brought, realizing that he was still wounded and lashing out. She deserved every bit of it, too. That night long ago, when they had been kissing under the stars, she had brought up her scholarship and had been proud of it. Alec had brushed it off, talking about how they could get a place together once they’d gotten married, and every alarm went off in her mind. She felt hurt and overlooked, and in that moment, she felt like he didn’t care about her. He was so focused on them being together, talking about marriage and a family someday. It wasn’t true – he cared a lot, and she found that out a little too late.
Alec had cried when she broke up with him. He’d begged her not to do it, to give him another chance, and she’d said no. She had withdrawn, pulling her hand from his, drew up the strength to stand fast on her decision to go to college, and didn’t break down until later. He’d completely lost it when he wasn’t reaching her or getting the response he wanted. It had been childish – but then again – at eighteen, they were still children or seemed like it.
Oh, the things they had yelled at each other, amidst the tears, frustration, and intense feelings. The person who once said ‘love and hate were different sides of the same coin’ was a genius, because it was so true. She had seen that love flip to hate before her very eyes.
“You always have a choice,” she whispered, staring at her plate. “I would never take your choices, your wants, your dreams from you…”
“But you did, remember?”
She looked at him, saw his angry eyes and didn’t shy away when she finally replied. He wasn’t going to like it, but it was the truth. It had taken her a long time of inner reflection to put her thoughts and feelings into words, but the moment she had – she was able to finally heal and wanted that for him.
“I care for you and always have,” she began and didn’t hesitate when he opened his mouth to speak, continuing quickly. “I always wanted you to have a choice, but I reacted badly. I felt threatened that my own choice, my moment of pride, was being brushed off like it was nothing. You were the beloved jock, the ‘cute guy’ in high school, and had everything,” she said passionately, feeling her own frustration bubble.
“Alec, I had nothing but what was between my ears – and I had finally earned something to be proud of, yet it didn’t matter to the one person I wanted to be proud of me. I wanted to make you proud of me, to show you that I had value, and it fell apart because I stood up for my choices for the first time ever,” she said hoarsely, hating those tears stinging her eyes as she stared at him. To her shock, he closed his mouth and stood there, looking at her. The clock in the distance seemed to tick loudly, and she had never noticed it before, but it was there now, almost like a gong in her head.
“Did you use plenty of cheese,” Alec grumbled, taking a step toward the opposite side of the table without looking at her.
“Oh yes,” she replied, trembling and making small talk with him as he took a seat. “Ricotta, mozzarella, cottage cheese, and mascarpone. I made sure to use an egg to bind it, too, so it doesn’t just fall apart. I asked your mother how she made hers stick together and…”
“You called my mother?” he asked, looking shocked.
“I went by her donut shop. I don’t exactly have her phone number. She changed the house phone after we… um, well, after I left for college.”
“How do you know that?”
“I tried to call. Do you want another beer or some parmesan cheese?”
“I didn’t know you tried to call me.”
“We weren’t exactly talking or on good terms.”
“That’s true.”
“Yeah, things tend to fall apart when you toss words you never meant to say in the heat of battle. When I am presiding over a hearing, I have to remove all emotions and stick with facts – and sometimes, it’s very hard. I see people crying and upset and I know that I’m about to change their lives, but I have to look at things clinically and make the best decision possible with the facts before me.”
“You were always good at shutting off your emotions,” he said bluntly before taking a bite and then spoke again with his mouth full. “I’m sorry. That was rude… and this is really good.”
“No apology needed,” she mumbled, taking a bite of her own meal and trying not to take it as harshly as he’d meant it. “I think each field it takes a special type of person to do what they do on a daily basis. I could not make it as a police officer or a doctor. I really think that what you guys do at the fire station is a miracle… and sometimes I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what,” he said simply, taking another bite and glancing at her before looking away. “Fighting fires is learning what works best and…”
“No,” she interrupted, lifting her beer to take a sip. “I don’t know how you aren’t terrified to run into a burning building, knowing you could die. I wish I had thought to buy some wine or something else. Beer and lasagna isn’t exactly fancy.”
“It’s real, though – and I like it.”
Willow met Alec’s eyes and hesitated.
“Do you…”
“I think I’ll have that other beer,” he interrupted quietly. “Is it in the fridge?”
“I’ll get it,” she offered, rising to her feet. “Eat while it’s hot. I also made a tiramisu for dessert. I thought maybe you’d like something sweet.”
Amazingly, she heard his wary laugh.
“You know I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” she replied quietly, opening the bottle for him and rejoining him at the table. “Time has a way of changing people, their outlook, and their mindset. Your mother calls it ‘maturity’. I think it’s more a reaction to various ‘cause and effect’ that occurs in each person’s life. One person might mature at age seventeen due to tragedy, while another might not mature until they are in their thirties.”
“And you?”
“I’d like to say that I believe I’m grown up,” she smiled sadly, “But life has a way of teaching you a new lesson when you least expect it. I don’t know if I’ll ever have all the answers, but I’d like to think that I am smarter now than I was when I was in high school.”
Alec didn’t say anything. He simply took a sip of his beer, looking anywhere but at her, before taking another bite of his food. It was almost like he was stalling and didn’t want to say something.
“Do you consider yourself mature?” she asked softly.
“Heck no,” he blurted out, and unbelievably, a smile slipped past that mask on his face. She saw it for all of three seconds before he went back to that stony, determined look. “I’ve been through some stuff, seen some things, and I think that drives me closer to the ‘act like a juvenile delinquent’ stage rather than making me mature.”
It was so unexpected, so brutally truthful, and just so ‘him’ – that she couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a little chuckle either. No, it was a loud laugh that bounced off the walls in the silence, and he joined in.
“I’m serious,” he chuckled warily. “If you ever see me in court, it’s because I did something that I only wish I had thought of back when I was younger – and probably involves toilet humor.”
Willow laughed again, this time much more relaxed and not quite so on edge. It was like they were settling into a wary friendship between them, still on their guard but attempting the once-thought-impossible feat.
“There’s nothing wrong with toilet humor,” she chuckled, smiling at him. “I like a good joke as much as the next person.”
“That’s me, the King of Poop,” Alec paused, raising an eyebrow as she laughed once again. “… Jokes. Poop jokes. You’ve gotta let me finish my sentence. It loses something when you start cackling before I’m done.”
They both went back to eating their dinner, the silence broken by a fork scraping against the plate, as an uncomfortable yet easy atmosphere seemed to take shape around them.
“You look nice,” she murmured, not looking at him.
“You look good in blue.”
“Thank you.”
“Yup. Just straight facts.”
“This is really wonderful having…”
“Willow,” Alec interrupted quickly. “This is not what you think.”
“Two old friends having dinner together?”
“So this isn’t a ploy to try and get back together with me?”
“I don’t know that either of us is ready for a relationship,” she said carefully, knowing she was on thin ice right now and he was pushing to see what she wanted from him. “I was hoping for friendship, maybe having someone to talk to that I can trust… and I would be happy with that.”
“You don’t want more someday?”
His softly spoken statement was full of distrust, hesitancy, and wariness that was hurtful, but there was also a note of something else. Hope? Wistfulness? She met his eyes, not shying away from him but holding her ground like she had so long ago.
“I don’t think either of us is ready to let down our guards yet – nor do I plan on lying to you. I think perhaps we should attempt friendship once again before even considering anything else.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t exactly call this friendship.”
“No, of course not,” she whispered, feeling his words like salt in a wound. “What would you call it?”
“Dinner… and we’ll see.”
Alec’s voice was quiet, and he was picking at the last bite of lasagna on his plate, moving it around repeatedly, not looking at her. He didn’t look angry like he did when he first sat down. No, he looked very alone and confused. She had pressed him enough for this evening, and she needed to be satisfied with however it ended.
“Dinner and ‘We’ll see’ sounds perfect,” she murmured and met his eyes as he looked up at her. His dark eyes met hers, and she felt that flare between them that was quickly tamped down.
“Do you want some tiramisu?”
“I think I should probably go.”
“Then I will wrap it up for you,” she said simply, fighting back tears of disappointment as she rose to her feet. Walking past the table, she felt him grab her wrist and turned to look at him. His face was aimed straight ahead, his eyes pinched closed, and his lips pressed together, looking pained. “Alec?”
“I’m gonna need time, okay?”
Her heart slammed in her chest as she choked back the sob that threatened to escape. He looked so concerned, so pained, but his words said so much. He wasn’t shutting her down or giving up, but instead, admitting that he was interested but they still had so far to go.
“We both do,” she said hoarsely. “This is only the first step.”
“I don’t know how many steps I can take.”
“I’m not asking for a number, just a chance.”
Alec turned to her, still holding her wrist, and met her gaze. He stared at her, his forehead creased with concern as he finally let go. For a moment, the fact that he released her sent a bolt of fright straight into her soul, and then he spoke.
“You have your chance… whatever that means for us.”
“I’ll take it,” Willow whispered, grateful as she moved to finish packing up the tiramisu for him. She had put it in a glass container and snapped the lid on top, putting it in an empty plastic grocery bag before putting a big wedge of lasagna in another container. Turning, she noticed him standing there, watching her.
“Alec?”
“We should… I think I’m going to go,” he admitted. “This has been nice and I didn’t expect to enjoy myself – but let’s not push it.”
“Of course.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“Alec, I’m just really glad we are at least trying.”
“Dinner isn’t ‘trying,’” he began and hesitated. “But I guess it’s a start.”
“It’s a start,” she nodded, as he accepted the bag from her and murmured his thanks. His eyes met hers again and she wanted to throw herself into his arms, hug him, plead for him to put the past behind him.
“We’re not kissing,” he said hoarsely… and she fought back a smile.
“Nope. We’re not even having dessert.”
“Maybe you should hang onto this,” he began, starting to hand the bag back to her, and she shook her head.
“Take it, enjoy, and just don’t be a stranger.”
“Maybe we can have coffee or talk again sometime.”
“I would really like that.”
Both hesitated and stood there, waiting.
“Good night.”
“You too.”
She stood in the doorway, watched him walk toward his truck, and smiled sadly. Maybe things had changed more than she realized. She never pictured him as driving a truck. He used to have a little Toyota sedan years ago, but then again, a lot had changed for both of them, and she was asking things to change between them again.