Page 72 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

RYAN

CHASING STORIES

“ W illow!” mom hollered across the house. “Is that you?”

“Hi, Pam!” she shouted back as she toed off her shoes at the door and made herself right at home. “How was Lisbon?”

It was still a little weird that Willow and my mom had become fast friends, but only because I had nothing to do with it. It had been all Willow.

She had jumped headfirst into the Ford Method and made it her mission to get to know everyone I loved.

Which was pretty much just my mom.

Mom sashayed out of the kitchen. “It was incredible. You two definitely need to go,” she said as she gave Willow a hug first, then gave me one almost as an afterthought. She propped her hands up on her hips. “I see you two are still together. No more dramatics?”

Willow smiled at me a little sheepishly.

We had spent the night in Willow’s hotel room, then the next two weeks at my house after my mother left New York to traipse around Portugal, living her best life.

“No more dramatics,” she said.

“Nice to see you too, Mom,” I teased.

She waved me off with a dismissive hand. “I see you all the time. I’ve never had a daughter before. This is fun for me. Don’t ruin it.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re hitting the road soon,” I said.

“So soon?” Her face fell, and her brows furrowed. “I thought you weren’t leaving for Virginia for another few days.”

“Yeah, but we’re going up to Providence first,” I said.

“My friend is having a baby shower,” Willow chimed in.

“It’s a couples shower, so Ryan gets to come too.

” She patted my shoulder, knowing that I did not want to go to a baby shower.

I especially didn’t want to go to a baby shower where there was the threat of being knocked unconscious and kidnapped by the father-to-be.

Visions of having her own grandbabies to spoil flashed in my mother’s eyes. Her expression brightened. “Go on, then. Enjoy yourselves. Stay a night or two. I’m not old-fashioned—Willow doesn’t need a ring. Get busy.”

“Pam!” Willow said with a laugh.

She dropped her hands on her hips. “Well? I’m not getting any younger. And neither are you two.”

I just shook my head. “I’m gonna grab the presents, and then we have to hit the road.”

Something warm and bright bubbled in my chest as I listened in on Willow and my mom chatting while I loaded up the car to make the trek up to Rhode Island.

Things had seemingly fallen into place after the afternoon when Willow finally opened the door and let me back into her life. We spent two weeks simply spending time together. There was value in the mundane, in washing dishes, sitting on the couch, and folding laundry together.

The day she asked me to help her decide where we were traveling next was the day I knew that this was our happily ever after.

We had made lists of what we both needed in a destination.

I had speaking engagements over the next few months, so I needed to be a reasonable distance from an airport.

She wanted something with the chance of snow throughout the winter, but not blizzards.

We both agreed that we wanted something outside of a city, where we could see stars and unfettered sunsets.

Since we had been in the Midwest all summer, the choices were between the west coast and the east coast.

Northern Virginia seemed like the right call. The prospect of mountains excited her. The prospect of being in the same time zone when Whitney had her baby was even more exciting. A nine-hour drive from the rental we had found in Virginia up to Providence was nothing for Willow.

The two of us loaded into the car, wedged in among gift bags topped with blue, yellow, and green tissue paper, and made the drive to Providence without much fuss.

It was our first road trip after spontaneously heading to Kansas after Shep had passed. Everything was different, but in the same way, nothing was different.

I knew from that first trip that Willow was it for me.

I knew it in the way she dropped everything to be there for her family.

I knew it in the way she had a kind of determination that couldn’t be stopped.

I knew it in the way she let me have her strength and her softness. She wasn’t bashful about either. Willow felt everything with her whole heart, and she had chosen to trust me for the times that hurt and the moments of elation.

We parked on a side street in the College Hill neighborhood of Providence and slipped inside a little bakery named Annie’s Pies.

The dining area had been decked out in balloons and streamers. The theme was very clearly all about ducks. They were on each table and across the dessert display case that was full of every pie flavor imaginable.

“Willow!” Whitney shrieked as she waddled around tables. She wore a sash across her chest that read, “Mama Duck.” Miles was right behind her, keeping a careful hand on her back.

She pulled Willow into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Willow said.

Miles pointed to his eyes with two fingers, then pointed those fingers at me.

“Yeah, I got it. You might kidnap me,” I muttered.

Whitney offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. But hey—it all worked out in the end.”

Willow looked up at me. “What?”

Whitney grimaced. “Miles might have kidnapped him while we were at Wander and Jack’s house and used him to pass his annual interrogation audit with Keller & Associates.”

Willow looked at Miles. “You did what ?”

Miles raised his hands in defense. “I’m like Cupid. Adorable and armed. Or are you forgetting that the icon of love carries a weapon? I have the video recording of it if you’d like some entertainment.”

Her brows lifted. “Yes, please.”

The door flew open, and a group of scary mercenary types dressed in varying shades of gray and black filed in.

“Fellow Asses!” Miles said as he threw his hands in the air.

I recognized one of them as the British man who had popped in the room during the interrogation.

“Those are Miles’s coworkers,” Whitney said to me.

Pulling up the rear of the crowd was Wander and Jack. Wander broke away from the mass of lethal bodies and weaved through tables to get to Willow and Whitney.

“The WWs are together again!” Wander squealed as they squished into a group hug. “It’s about time.”

“I just saw you guys like . . . less than a month ago.”

“Yeah, but you were all depressed and heartbroken and ‘ I can’t live without him ,’” Whitney said dramatically.

“Okay, okay. We don’t have to revisit that,” Willow said.

“We can revisit it,” I said as I stood behind Willow and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’d like to hear more about how she can’t live without me.”

Willow playfully stomped on my foot, and looked up at me. “I can get that video from Miles and we can have a little viewing party. Would you like to continue fucking around? Because you will find out.”

I kissed her temple. “I’m kidding, cupcake.”

Her lips twitched in a smile as she closed her eyes. “I know.”

We joined the rest of the guests and settled into a long row of tables that had been pushed together for the baby shower. The pie was divine, and watching Whitney and Miles be loved by their found family was exactly what Willow needed after the summer of dealing with her family.

I draped my arm around the back of her chair and grazed my fingers up and down her arm. Willow leaned into me and watched Whitney pull out a stack of onesies and footy pajamas.

“I have one more question from the Ford Method to ask you,” she whispered.

My brows furrowed. Over the last two weeks, she had intently checked off each prompt that I had outlined in my program. She even had some feedback for how I could better explain the goals of each prompt and had given me new ideas on how to encourage users to implement them.

“We covered everything,” I said.

She shook her head. “Not everything.”

“Ask me, then.”

Willow chewed on her lip.

“Come on,” I murmured against her ear. “You know you can ask me anything.”

Her mossy eyes lifted and met mine. “Is this what you want?”

Panic stabbed at my gut. “What do you mean?”

She tipped her head toward Whitney and Miles. “The ring. The wedding. The baby on the way.”

“Yeah,” I said without a second of hesitation. “But only if it’s you.” I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Is that what you want?”

Willow nodded.

“Me too.”

“This is . . . kind of nuts. We weren’t supposed to fall in love.”

“We were,” I said. “I knew it from the moment we met.”

Willow just shook her head. “You can’t know something like that.”

I pulled out my phone and opened up the last text I had sent her. Instead of her name at the top of the screen, it said “Future Wife.”

“It’s never said Willow or Autumn. You’ve been my future wife since the day we met.” I tapped into my photos and opened the album labeled “FW.”

Photos of her reluctantly eating pierogies in the Village, photos of our first road trip. Of our breakfast in Virginia. Of every gas station stop, and passenger seat sleep session. I had photos of every moment with her.

“And you know what?” I said. “There’s gonna be room in here for a white dress.

For his-and-her hand towels and pictures of wherever our home base becomes.

For baby pictures. A dog if you want one.

You and me riding off into the sunset. For all of it.

So, when I say I’m sure, trust me. I’m sure.

I’ve been sure since I laid eyes on you in the check out line.

” I pressed a discreet kiss to her temple. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said as she discreetly dabbed at the tears forming in her eyes. “I’ve been chasing stories for a long time. I want to know what happily ever after feels like.”