Page 84 of Imperfect Arrangement

“You know no one cares about anything else except you two being happy,” I press. “You’re not related by blood, for Christ’s sake, and she?—”

“She’s my cousin, the daughter of my mom’s sister,” Alex snaps, his voice razor sharp. His fists clench at his sides, his entire body rigid. “I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else thinks about me not being born into this family. Rosemary Teager is my mother. Period.”

He’s halfway to storming off when I grab his arm, my grip firm and my chest tight with frustration. “Hey, what the hell was that? You think anyone in this family, especially me, thinks you don’t belong?”

He shakes me off, but the flicker of remorse in his eyes softens my frustration.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt when you think you’re protecting her. Chloe loves you. We all know that. That girl’s a wild card, and no one knows where her limits are.”

“I’ve got bigger things to worry about than Chloe and her limits,” he bites out.

“Really?” I challenge, his words grating against every nerve. Here I am, spilling my heart out to him, and this asshole is lying to both of us. “Then I guess you won’t mind that she’s showing up to Quill’s birthday with Vincent.”

His head snaps toward me so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t pull a muscle. “She’s bringing who?”

I raise a brow, my expression all innocence. “What? Your security team didn’t mention that Chloe’s coming to Cherrywood next week?”

Alex doesn’t answer. He spins on his heel and marches away, his back tense with purpose.

* * *

A few minutes later,after saying goodbye to the kids, I head toward my car in the parking lot. I spot Alex leaning against his Porsche, scrolling on his phone like he’s hunting for something. I lift a hand in a casual wave. He glances up long enough to give a half-hearted nod before diving back into his screen.

For his own sake, I hope my stubborn cousin pulls his head out of wherever it’s stuck and realizes what the rest of us already know—his happiness is Chloe, and hers is him. The whole family knows it, even if Alex is too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.

Sliding into my car, I grab my phone and start typing out a text to Grandpa Will.

Me:How is everything at home?

I don’t hit send right away because what I really want to ask is how Willow’s making my daughter stronger one day at a time. I want to ask if my girls are having fun while teaching Captain Lick, the laziest dog in the universe, a trick and failing badly.

My thumb hovers over the button for another beat, before I stick to the safe route and press send.

A reply comes instantly.

Grandpa Will:Everyone here is perfect.

A picture follows. It’s Willow and Quill climbing the porch steps, morning light catching their beautiful faces. Willow’s juggling Captain Lick in one arm and a small wicker basket in the other.

They’d planned a breakfast picnic in the garden, and suddenly, I wish I’d canceled everything to be there. Not just to catch a possible new word from Quill but to soak in moments like this—small, happy pieces of life that feel bigger than they are.

I zoom in on the picture, taking in the way Willow’s powder-blue top matches Quill’s pajamas. And today, even Captain Lick is sporting a matching scarf around his neck, I’m sure out of Quill’s insistence. My chest tightens, and a knot of emotions tangles somewhere between gratitude and longing.

I glance back at the picture and then at the lazy dog in Willow’s arms, an idea sparking like a light bulb. I shoot off a quick text to my cousins, laying out my plan. When I glance out the window again, Alex is still standing there, his shoulders bunched with tension as he glares at his phone like it’s offended him.

Something stirs in my chest—empathy, or maybe understanding.

Loving the wrong girl. Is that what we’re both doing? Or is it fear? Fear of being hurt? Of wanting something so much it feels impossible?

I’ve been telling Alex to take the leap, to stop letting his fear hold him back. Maybe it’s time I start taking my own advice. Maybe it’s time I show Willow what this could be instead of waiting for her to figure it out.

As I’m about to toss my phone on the passenger seat, it buzzes with a notification. Alex’s reply is the first to come through.

Alex: I’ll go home for a quick change and meet you at the hardware store.

Confirmation texts from Rowan, Archer, and Charles follow in rapid succession.

With the plan set in motion, I send one last text to Grandpa Will, asking him to handle dinner and drinks for the guys. Cider for Daisy, and for Willow, a bottle of her favorite wine. If I’m going to woo Willow Pershing, I better do it the way she deserves. Full-on Raymond Zach Teager–style.