Page 123 of Imperfect Arrangement

“Dear Wish Fairy,” she whispers. “One day, I told you that I don't want to leave my dad, that I was happy here with him, in his home, and never wanted to go anywhere else. I wished if you could make me strong so that I can tell my dad that I loved him. And you made my wish come true. Thank you so much.”

Watching her speak the words with the utmost sincerity feels like someone is squeezing my chest…hard.

“But now Willow’s gone because she’s scared. Can you please do your magic again? Can you please tell her that Dad and I are going nowhere and that we’ll love her forever? Maybe you’re wondering, why can’t I tell her that on my own? But I worry that she won’t believe me because I’m a kid and I think my daddy isn’t saying it the right way.”

Her voice wobbles on the last words.

“My dad once told me that ‘I love you’ means forever. Can you tell Willow that we mean it too…for all of us to be together?”

She blows on the sunflower, sending the wish into the wind, and then turns to me. “Your turn, Daddy. If you are shy, you don’t have to say it out loud.”

It might be easier to wish without words, but I don't want to do that, not when it comes to my bug or Willow. I want to fill every inch of space with words—clear words, so there’s no space for any sort of fear between us three.

“Dear Wish Fairy,” I start. “I don’t know how this works, but if my girls believe in you, then I do too. You gave my daughter the courage to speak, and now, I request you to do the same for Willow.” My throat tightens. “Help me bring her home. Make her see that she belongs with us, that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”

When I open my eyes, Quill has a huge smile on her face and she whispers, “Now, blow on the flower, Daddy.”

I exhale a slow breath, sending my wish out.

“You did very good. It’ll work.”

A SUNFLOWER APOCALYPSE

WILLOW

“It’s been a month, Wills. Are you seriously going to keep pretending like nothing happened?”

Elodie drops onto the couch beside me, but I keep my gaze firmly on my untouched margarita, swirling the salt on the rim with my finger.

It’s been twenty-nine days and ten hours since I walked out of Ray’s house. Since I ripped myself away from a life that felt too damn good to be mine. Since I packed my things—okay, ran—and moved into Violet’s guest room, where my dog was the only one who didn’t look at me like I’d committed first-degree stupidity.

It was also the day I invoked the secrecy pact with my friends.

One summer, back when we were teenagers sitting on Daisy’s porch, Violet had come up with the bright idea of a secrecy pact. Each of us would get one free pass in our lifetime—one request that the others had to follow, no questions asked. We’d even blown over our linked pinkies and sent our pact to the fairies for authorization.

I’d never thought I’d actually use mine, until…I did.

I asked my friends to not interfere with my decision, and they’ve respected it. But I guess a month is time enough for the statutory limitations of teenage secrecy pacts.

Violet strides onto the porch with another pitcher of margaritas, her face has exasperation written all over it. “She’s still stuck in the denial phase.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not in denial. Ray and I had a business arrangement, and it ended. I don’t understand why that’s so hard for everyone to accept.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, a voice in the back of my mind whispers,Why don’t you start believing it before you preach to the crowd, Wills?

The question curls around my chest like a vise, but I shove it away.

Violet narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “That’s nonsense. You’re scared, and we get it. But I never thought you’d be stupid enough to let go of something this good just because it terrifies you.”

I open my mouth, ready to argue, to say something—anything—but Daisy beats me to it. “I can’t believe you’re ignoring Quill, Willow.”

It feels like someone reached inside my rib cage and squeezed, cutting off my air, making my chest ache in an unbearable way. I would cry if I didn’t know that Quill seemed surprisingly calm about my sudden disappearance from her home.

That first night, I was a wreck. Every second stretched out painfully. I had spent so many evenings after dinner curled up with her, reading from her ever-growing stack of illustrated books. Some nights, we barely got through a page before she launched into some wild tangent, signing and whispering about whatever was on her mind, and like everything else in that house, that routine had become a part of my life without me even realizing it.

I miss it and I miss her so badly.

I almost caved in and called Grandpa Will so I could sneak a few stolen moments with her on a video call, hear her voice, see her little hands flying as she signed, and above everything, made sure that she was okay. But then my phone buzzed.