Page 33 of A Witch in Notting Hill

Oliver

“W illow, can you hear me? Willow?” I shook her in my arms, desperate for her to open her eyes. “Come on.”

“How long was she under?” Lola asked, looking on with Minho and Vera. Vera? The cat? I didn’t know. Nor did I care.

“I wasn’t timing her,” I snapped. “She said to trust her and let her do her thing and I just... I figured she’d come up for air when she needed to.”

“She knew what she was doing. Give her a second,” Minho said.

“She’s blue,” I said. “Is she blue? She’s fucking blue. Come on, Willow.”

“Hey.” Lola put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off. “She’s—”

Before Lola could finish her sentence, Willow took a gasping breath. A watery, rasping breath that tumbled into a hacking cough before she could even open her eyes.

“Bloody hell.” I sighed, holding her closer to me despite the coughing. “You’re awake. You’re alive.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “I feel like I’m dead.”

“What happened in there?”

“How should I know?” She forced a laugh, and I’d never been so relieved to hear a single sound in my entire life.

“I must have passed out. It must have been the cold. I can usually hold my breath for a long time, but I’m not usually swimming in ponds in freezing weather.

” She shuddered, and Minho appeared back at my side holding a pile of towels.

“Here.” I wrapped the towels haphazardly around her body, trying to get her as warm as possible as fast as possible. Color was just barely coming back into her cheeks, but her lips were pale and I hated the way her teeth slammed together. “Min, can you get a tea on? D’you have that pot thing?”

“One step ahead of you.”

“I’m fine,” Willow wheezed. “You don’t have to go through the trouble. Really. If I can just get back to the flat, I can take care of myself just fine.”

“We know you can ,” I said. “Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Oliver, I’m serious.”

“And you think I’m not?”

We stared at each other in a vaguely uncomfortable silence, the others looking on like they were watching a boxing match. Try me, Willow.

Eventually, she dropped her head against my chest, and I finally relaxed. “This is all so embarrassing,” she mumbled, muffled by my sweater.

“What, would you rather be dead than embarrassed?” She coughed again, hard, when she tried to laugh, and the sound rattled around my chest, too. “Easy,” I said.

“God, Willow, that was scary,” Lola said, squatting next to us. “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want someone to come back to the flat with you? Any of us would be happy to.”

“No—oh god, that’s so generous,” Willow started. “Thank you, but I could never—”

“I’ll do it,” I said before I even knew I was speaking.

“I’ll come stay with you.” For a second, no one moved, and I wondered if I’d made a fool of myself.

Who did I think I was, offering to stay in her flat with her?

She was adamant she’d be able to take care of herself, and surely she had someone else she could—

“You would?”

“Without question.” Apparently, speaking without thinking was my own superpower. “Say the word.”

“He’s a great nurse,” Minho said. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to thank him or slap him. “Takes great care of you when you’re drunk. Or in this case, when you’ve almost drowned in Hampstead Heath.”

“Min’s right,” Lola said. “Once when I had surgery, he brought me ice cream in bed for a week.”

“You had your wisdom teeth out. Hardly qualifies as surgery,” I said, suddenly embarrassed by their effusive praise.

“Had you mentioned ice cream, I might have agreed a lot sooner.” Willow smiled. It was tired, but it wasn’t lacking any of her usual charm.

“I don’t want to impose, but I do think you need looking after. And I’d like to be the one to do it, if you’d let me.”

She glanced at the cat, and I tried not to notice. Were they communicating something? Did it matter?

“Only if you’re sure.”

“As sure as it gets.”

“I have a nice living room,” she said, “with plenty of space and everything. You’d hardly even know I was there.”

“The point is to know you’re there.”

“I just mean I wouldn’t be a bother. I’d be in my room, so you’d have your own space, and—”

“We can argue about it on the Tube,” I said. “Feel like you can get out of here?”

She nodded, and the three of us helped her up, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go.

I kept my arm looped around her waist as we piled on the layers so that she didn’t have to get on the Tube wrapped in every towel we owned.

She could be wrapped in every sweater we owned, which would at least let her hang on to a bit more privacy.

With our pile of wet towels, Willow dressed like the Michelin Man, and the little black cat in tow, we made our way across the park in the direction of the station.

The sun painted streaks of oranges and pinks across the hazy sky, but I didn’t have the energy to notice.

I didn’t have the energy to do much of anything other than thank the universe Willow was okay and keep my arm around her waist, holding her tight.

Keeping her upright. Keeping her warm. Keeping her close.

During the ride, she dropped her head onto my shoulder, and I wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep, and frankly, I didn’t care. What mattered was she trusted me. I was a source of comfort to her, and I couldn’t think of anything more rewarding.

Min and Lola got off at their respective stops, asking me to keep them posted on how she was doing and to let them know if we needed anything. I promised to do both, ultimately relieved when it was just me and Willow. And the cat.

“This is us,” she mumbled when we got to the station, and I couldn’t stop the pounding in my chest at the word. Us. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to always share the same stop. To always be an us .

“Let’s do it, then.” I wrapped my arm back around her waist, grateful she wasn’t too proud to use me for support. The train was crowded with rush hour commuters, and I had to bob and weave us off the carriage and out onto the street.

“Where’s Vera?” Willow asked, suddenly snapping her head around to look for the cat.

“Relax,” I said, hiking the carrier up higher on my other shoulder. “I’ve got her.”

“You are a good flatmate,” she said.

“I’ve not even been in the flat yet.”

“Well, you’re off to a good start.”

I didn’t used to be the kind of bloke who smiled to myself.

Her flat was exactly what I had hoped for her. Peaceful, clean, secluded. She led me down a quiet side street and up a small flight of stairs to a glossy black front door, flanked by tall pillars and window boxes with ruby-red flowers.

I followed her to the second floor, keeping my hands braced at her hips in case she lost her balance. When she fumbled with the keys, I took them from her shaking hands and unlocked the door, ushering her inside.

“You should have a shower, if you fancy it,” I said, heading into the kitchen to get her a large glass of water. “Might help to regulate the body temperature.”

“And get the seaweed out of my hair.”

“Not seaweed if it’s in a pond, is it?”

“Now’s an interesting time to argue,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

I handed her the water on my way to the bathroom, trying not to hold her gaze too long.

I was barely keeping myself together as it was, and the last thing I needed was to look at her flushed face on my way to run the shower.

The bathroom counter was lined with candles, and I lit a few before turning the water pressure on full blast and letting the stream run warm. When I left the bathroom, I was surprised to find her already standing in the bedroom, peeling off the layers of sweaters we’d cloaked her in at the Heath.

“Oh, let me just—”

“Stay,” she whispered, and time slowed. She moved through honey, continuing to peel off layer after layer, while I stood silent, trying to figure out what came next. She was down to that damn swimsuit and a pair of my sweatpants when she said, “Please.”

I wouldn’t have said no in any lifetime. Would have tried, maybe, to pretend I was a good guy. Tried to pretend I didn’t want to get in the way of her thing with that bloke, tried to pretend I didn’t want to keep her up, or didn’t want to crowd her space, or didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

But the moment that single syllable left her lips, I was helpless.

“I’ll be right here when you get out,” I said, my voice hardly more than a scratch in my throat. She smiled, satisfied, and disappeared into the bathroom without closing the door behind her.

I sat on her bed, letting my eyes wander around the room.

It was impersonal, mostly, seeing as it was a rental, but there were glimpses of Willow in every corner: a pile of baseball hats, a stack of gold jewelry, more white trainers than I could count.

I couldn’t reconcile celebrity Willow with this Willow.

The one who had a retainer on the nightstand and a fraying phone charger coiled beside the bed.

The one I rescued from the pond this morning, who leaned her head on my shoulder on the Tube, who accepted help and asked me to stay.

The one who was making herself a home here with my friends in my neighborhood whom I wasn’t sure how we’d say goodbye to when the time came.

My spiral was interrupted by a pair of yellow-green eyes peering around the edge of the doorway.

A measured, knowing stare that said, Watch yourself.

Cats always did have that weird way about them, didn’t they?

Like they knew something you didn’t. Like they were watching you, judging you, even when you were simply minding your own business.

Which I was. Sort of.

I averted my gaze when she scampered out of the room, and that was when I caught Willow’s eye.

A stolen glance in the reflection of a foggy bathroom mirror.

Her hands in her hair, a stream of water down her back, perfectly angled collar bones under the straps of her bikini that made me wish more than I was willing to admit that the mirror showed more.

Her parted lips moved only slightly, just enough to mouth the word hi .

She wasn’t embarrassed to be seen. She welcomed it.

Hi , I mouthed back, on pins and needles for what came next. I kept my eyes trained on her lips, which I likely would have done whether she was talking to me or not.

“Come here.”

Would she ever stop surprising me?

“Me, or the cat?” I teased, fighting an embarrassing smile when she rolled her eyes. I stood up from the bed, taking slow, calculated steps toward the bathroom. Giving her plenty of time to change her mind.

With every step, more of her body was revealed in her reflection. Freckled shoulders, round breasts, the tempting, soft curve of her stomach. I couldn’t believe I got to see her like this. What had I possibly done to get so lucky?

“You were soaking wet today, too,” she said once I cleared the threshold. “Thought you might also want a shower.”

Every word after “soaking wet ” sounded like gibberish.

“I can, er, I can get in once you’re out,” I said.

I didn’t want to push my luck. I couldn’t believe I was even in this bathroom in the first place.

But she was right. I did desperately need a shower.

The dry pair of clothes I’d taken for myself before the Tube ride was hardly a substitute for being clean, and I was desperate to wash the pond water from my hair.

“You don’t have to wait,” she said.

God, this woman.

She kept her eyes locked on mine as I undressed, not looking away even when the candles blew out one by one.

I left my clothes in a heap on the floor save for my boxer briefs, following her lead. If she was anything like I was, she was washing the swimsuit in the shower like I used to do after the beach, and my clothes could use the same.

I pulled the door open slowly, savoring the anticipation, before stepping in behind her and letting the steam engulf me.