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“Thank you. Happy holidays to you, too.”
I store the prescription bottle in my purse like she told me to and shrug into my coat. I have half an hour before I meet Willow,but Jerricka’s and my conversation about Gage disheartened me and I consider canceling our lunch.
I don’t want to let him go, even if I can understand that yes, in the long run, it might be good if I dated other people. We never said we would be exclusive, in fact, whenever we part, we never plan to see each other again, not like most couples, and maybe he’s not as invested in me as I am in him. It hurts my head, and my stomach churns.
I didn’t tell Zane and Stella about Willow’s lunch invitation, not even Jerricka who’s sworn to secrecy. I’ve shared enough of my life with people, and there are a few things, goddamn it, I want to keep to myself. A harmless lunch with Willow is one of them, and Idothink it’s harmless. I don’t believe she was participating in anything her son and husband were doing, and even Stella said multiple times that if it weren’t for Willow turning the other way, she wouldn’t have been able to escape.
Instead of hailing a taxi, I walk to her apartment. It’s not that far from Jerricka’s office, and the crisp air clears my head. So far, the pill Jerricka forced on me hasn’t done anything, and maybe it will work behind the scenes, helping me think more clearly even if I don’t realize it. That would be nice. All the drugs I took at Quiet Meadows slammed into me the moment I swallowed them, and I felt like I was sleepwalking.
I reach her building ten minutes late, and I rush through the doors only for a man wearing a suit, earpiece, and holstered gun to stop me and demand identification. He gives off a dangerous vibe, similar to the days Hector followed me around, Ash always controlling everything I did. I don’t like it, and I swallow back my nausea. My jacket is too hot, and I can’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, grappling at my purse. “I just need a minute.”
He waits patiently as I pull my wallet out of my purse, and my hand is shaking like crazy when I slide my state photo ID out ofthe plastic slot. He scans the barcode on the back with his phone and hands the card back to me. “Wade will escort you upstairs. Enjoy your visit.”
“Thanks.”
Another security guard approaches me, and calmer, I follow him to a bank of elevators. He stands on one side of the box, his hands clasped behind his back, and I stand on the other. His posture is relaxed, and I lean against the wall, suddenly tired and wishing I could go to sleep. My mental exhaustion turns into physical exhaustion, and on the days I see Jerricka, I tend to feel it in my bones. Instead of canceling on Willow, maybe I should put Gage off, but I need to talk to him. Lay out everything everyone told me today, and if he agrees, then tonight will be the last night I’ll see him. We can be friends, but that would be difficult and it wouldn’t be long before he started dating another woman, like Sierra, and forgets all about me.
I blink back tears.
Wade notices, but he’s trained not to say anything.
The elevator doors open onto a floor that surprisingly isn’t the penthouse. I would have thought Willow would be secured in the best of the best. Or maybe she’s tired of living in a shrine. I never liked the Blacks’ penthouse. It never felt like a home. Now I know why. It wasn’t one.
Wade raps sharply on the door, and Willow flings it open in a cloud of hellos and perfume.
The security guard moves aside, and I tentatively step into the small apartment.
I haven’t seen Willow since the night of Zane’s gala. She sat next to me during the fake speeches, holding my hand. She had always been a comfort to me, a steady presence, and I never once felt like I was in danger whenever I was around her.
She looks the same, a little worn, but who wouldn’t be after the year she’s had? Her son and husband will never see the lightof day, and well, depending on how much the DA’s office finds against her, she may end up behind bars too. I don’t keep track of the DA’s progress, but they’ve been gathering evidence and sorting through all of what the Blacks have done over the years. They were involved in so much crap they could have been a mafia family.
“Zarah, you look gorgeous. Let me hang up your coat.”
I tug off my jacket and give her my purse. “Willow. I admit, your call came out of nowhere. How have you been?”
She looks at me and tentatively steps forward.
I don’t realize what’s happening until suddenly I’m in her arms and she’s hugging me. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother, and I rest my head on her shoulder.
“Ah, Zarah. I’ve missed you,” she murmurs into my hair, rubbing my back, and in her embrace, I forget her husband is the reason I’m an orphan. “Come, let’s go into the living room. Do you want a drink? It’s hard to believe you’re old enough, though it didn’t stop you before.”
She steps back and tries to smile.
“I can’t. I’m on too much medication.”
Her slight smile falls. “How careless of me. All I know is what I hear on the news. It’s difficult to sort out the real from the fake.”
I follow her into a little living area. The furniture is plush, and I recognize the work of the artists on the walls. She’s still living the billionaire lifestyle, albeit on a much smaller scale.
“I’m willing to bet anything they say about Clayton and Ash are true.” I sit in a corner of the couch and tuck my foot under my butt. Willow sits the middle, closer than I’d like, but I don’t get up and move.
“I hope you believe me when I tell you I had no idea what was happening.”
“You knew enough to let Stella go.”
“I knew she didn’t belong under our roof. I knew my son fabricated the story about her and that Italian prince, but you have to understand, my husband and son treated me like hired help. They didn’t include me in their business, legal or otherwise. I was a pretty face, an elegant woman, a decoration on my husband’s arm. Nothing more, nothing less. Clayton and I stopped having sex, stopped sharing a bedroom, after Ash was born. We weren’t like your parents.”