Page 32

Chapter

Thirty-One

MERRY MADDEN

Willow

“Wrapped in love, just like a Christmas present under the tree.” — W

I settle back into the desk chair, phone in hand, and lean closer to the microscope, adjusting the knobs until the fungi samples come into sharp relief. Their vibrant colors swirl beneath the lens, each detail reminds me of the Amazon’s hidden wonders.

I hear my mom’s voice on the other end of the line, happy and comforting, as we catch up. “I’m so glad you had a wonderful Christmas, baby girl,” she says, her tone light, full of love.

I smile, leaning back in my chair. “I missed you all, though,” I admit, my voice soft with longing.

“We missed you too, Angel Girl,” she replies, her voice thick with affection. “But we’ll see each other in a couple of days! I can’t wait to hug you, my baby.”

The ache in my chest tightens as I picture her, as I picture all of them. “I can’t wait to hug you too, mom.”

“Just a little longer,” she says, the words full of promise. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, too,” I reply, my heart aching in the best way.

We hang up with a soft click, and for a moment, I sit there with the phone still in my hand, savoring the feeling of hearing my mom’s voice.

As much as I’m enjoying my time here in paradise—Madden by my side, and the enchanting beauty of S?o Paulo surrounding me—I can’t help but miss my family terribly. I miss the way we laugh together, my father’s hugs, and my mom’s comfort and warmth. I miss everything.

With a deep breath, I push the feeling aside and return to my notes. I grab my pen, and the sharp scratch of it against paper fills the room. My eyes flick back to the fungi, and a spark of excitement ignites within me. While inspecting the samples closer, I notice a new pattern in their spores, something that could be significant. “Ohh…you guys are magnificent." I murmur to myself, my pulse quickening a I scribble down the observation in my notes.

This could be groundbreaking to science.

I lean in closer to the microscope, my eyes tracing the structure of the sample. The noise of the resort fades away as I lose myself in my work. Time seems to stretch, the only sound in the room is the steady rhythm of my pen and the occasional rustle of the papers on the desk. As much as I love nature and immersing myself in green, I also enjoy the quiet while I work.

That is, until a soft sound breaks through my concentration. A subtle cough, just loud enough to make me glance up.

I start, caught off guard, and my breath catches when I see Madden standing in the door of the makeshift tent. His gaze is locked onto me with such intensity that it sends a flutter of butterflies to my stomach, and my heart does a few thousand flips. His presence feels almost too large for the space.

He leans casually against the doorframe, tattooed arms crossed and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The sunlight from the open tent spills in behind him, casting a warm glow around him, making him look almost otherworldly. He looks larger than life—magnetic and untouchable.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. The tent, my work, the world outside—all of it fades away, and there’s only him. I can’t help but smile back, my cheeks warming under his steady, searching gaze. The tension between us is strong and undeniable.

The smile on his face spreads, and I find myself unable to look away from it. His full, red lips remind me of the things the man’s done to my body, each perfect memory making my pulse quicken even more. My gaze drifts down his face, then to his broad shoulders and the way his dark gray shirt stretches over his hard chest. My cheeks flush as I realize I’m starting.

“Fairy,” he says, his voice low and smooth, a playful tone that always makes my pulse quicken. “Come spend the day with me?”

I blink, momentarily flustered. “I–I can’t. I need to work on this,” I reply, motioning to the fungi samples spread out on the table in front of me.

“What are you working on?” he asks, stepping closer.

“It’s boring.” I laugh a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing you do is boring to me,” he says, his voice tender. He walks over to the chair beside me and sits down. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

I glance at the microscope, then back at Madden. “I was… just examining these,” I reply, motioning to the microscope. “They’re really fascinating. I think these ones have the potential to do something big. The research has taken another turn that we weren't expecting.”

Madden leans in closer, peering at the sample with mild interest. “You always find a way to make science sound less tedious,” he says, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief that makes him almost boyish and that always leaves me weak in the knees.

I blush a little under his gaze, feeling suddenly shy. “Science is awesome, Grinch. It also has a lot to teach us.”

“Yeah, baby,” he replies, smiling softly.

I beam at him, grateful for how understanding he is. Even though science isn’t his thing, he never mocks me for it—instead, he always tries to connect with me, to be part of what matters to me. It’s one of the things I like most about him.

“If you just let me finish these, I’ll be all yours,” I say, a playful glint in my eyes.

“All mine?” Madden grins. “I like the sound of that.”

I feel my cheeks warm. “Madden...”

His grin widens, and he takes a step back, leaning against the edge of the table. “Alright,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’ll just sit here in silence until you’re done. Consider it my contribution to Science.”

I laugh softly, then lean over to give him a kiss on the lips.

His expression softens with tenderness, and I melt a little inside. “Do your thing, beautiful. I’ll be here,” he says, voice warm.

And that’s all I need—him here, by my side. Always.

With a smile on my face, I turn back to the microscope, refocusing on my work. But even as I immerse myself in the task, it’s impossible to ignore Madden’s presence.

I lose track of time as I immerse myself in the samples, and when I finally pull away from the microscope, I glance at the clock to find that quite a while has passed.

Lifting my head, I catch Madden looking down at me with a smile. “Hey there, Wild One.

“Hi!” I exclaim sheepishly.

“You done?”

“Yep,” I say, stretching my arms above my head, feeling satisfied with my job today. “I’m all yours. What do you want to do for the afternoon?”

His expression shifts slightly, a tender look flashing in his eyes. “What would make you happy?”

I don’t hesitate. “Just being with you makes me happy,”

He grins. “Fuck, you’re sweet, tell me something you miss doing?”

I hesitate, a shy smile creeping onto my face. “Pots!”

“Pots?” He raises an eyebrow looking curious.

“I usually make plant pots and paint them with my mom.” I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed sharing that, but it’s the truth. It’s simple, but it brings me joy.

Madden brows furrows as he considers this for a moment. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he says with a grin. He pulls out his phone, types a quick text, then stands and extends his hand to me.

I blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Want to make pots with me?” he asks, making my heart flip.

I look into his eyes and they shine so bright. Oh, how far he’s come.... “Okay, but you might regret it when you see how messy I can get!”

He chuckles, the sound sending a thrill through me. “Oh, I like you messy, baby.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

My heart beats like a drum for this man. Loud. Hard. Uncontrollable.

As I take his hands, I feel butterflies take over my stomach and I know—without a doubt—that today is going to be magical, simply because I get to spend it with him.

Half an hour later, we find ourselves in the secluded part of the garden that I adore so much. It’s my favorite spot in the hotel— a hidden oasis filled with vibrant and unique blooms and the gentle rustle of leaves with the scent of the nearby sea.

Madden gestures for me to take a seat on a sun-warmed stone bench, while he sets to work gathering supplies. Where did he find all this? Pots, paints of all colors, brushes— he’s got everything we need. I glance at him, still in awe. I’d only mentioned my love for painting plant pots less than an hour ago. How did he manage to pull this off so quickly? Maybe that text he sent earlier was to order everything we needed from his staff.

Will this man ever stop surprising me?

I don’t think he will.

He’s magic. There’s no doubt about it.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” He motions to his staff, who start bringing over pots, paints, brushes, and even a few extra plants. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of him looking kind of excited about this impromptu pot painting date.

“You look cute when you’re excited,” I tease, settling onto the bench and watching him with a grin.

“I am not excited,” he mutters, throwing a half-glance over his shoulder. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he picks up a paintbrush and wiggles it in the air like a wand. “Alright, my little Picasso, show me how it’s done.”

I bite my lip, half shy and half excited to share with him something I love. “Well, I usually start with a base color, then mom and I add details that make us smile. So, go ahead and paint something that makes you happy!”

He looks down at me, his eyes soft with tenderness. “Whatever makes me happy...” Without hesitation, he plunges the brush into a black paint, slathering it onto his pot with exaggerated strokes. I can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top antics.

“How did I know you were going to choose black?” I tease.

He winks at me. “I guess you know me best.”

“I guess so…” I reply, my voice softer now.

We fall into a comfortable silence while the garden around us feels alive. The afternoon sun casts dappled shadows, and a light breeze carries the sweet scent of flowers and sea salt.

I’ve never felt this peaceful before.

This feels like a dream.

Everything feels like a dream.

Madden, fully concentrated on his own painting, slumps down a little, brow furrowed as he works. Meanwhile, I begin painting a floral design using tones of green, pink and lavender paint. The colors that always come to mind when I think of Madden. I paint them onto the pot as if I’m painting him in my mind, because, in a way, I am. He makes me the happiest.

Madden watches me for a moment, then starts adding more colors, his brows furrowed in concentration. “You know,” he says, glancing up from his pot. “I knew you liked painting, but I didn't know you were this good. Is there anything you can’t do, Willow O’Sullivan?”

I shrug, my face flushing slightly as a shy smile tugs at my lips. “It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing with my mom. She’s the real Picasso in our family.”

“I remember…” he says quietly—almost too quiet, a hint of melancholy in his tone.

Then it hits me— the reason for the sudden shift in mood. He must be remembering the race track mural she painted for him. She’d started it the day after they met, and before everyone knew it, she’d poured so much love and of herself into it, as though she already knew he would become a part of our lives. As though, in her heart, she already knew he was home.

“Hey…” I touch his hand gently, letting him know I’m here. I’m always here for him.

“I’m glad you had that,” he says softly. “A family.”

I feel the sadness in his words, and something breaks in my chest. My heart. I set my brush down for a moment, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He glances up, his expression unreadable. “For?”

I hesitate, the words coming out slowly, like they’ve been stuck in my throat for a really long time. “That you didn't get to have the family you deserve.”

He shrugs, his dark gaze steady on mine. “I had it for a little while.”

I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Yours.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Beautiful, sweet man. My family is still yours and they’re waiting for you to come back home.

Then he grins again, mischief lighting his eyes replacing the sadness from seconds ago. “No more sad shit. Let’s paint the fuck out of these pots.”

How exhausting must it be, to hide all the pain he carries inside of him? I can see it in his eyes even if he thinks he’s hiding it well. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I do as he asks, focusing on guiding him through the process, my voice light and playful as I try to lift the mood. I laugh when he clumsily attempts to mimic my brushstrokes.

As we paint, the sun begins to sink lower in the sky, casting everything in a soft golden light. After what feels like a blissful eternity of painting, we finally set our brushes down, both of us a little messy and covered in splashes of color. It’s wonderful.

I glance over at Madden, my heart racing at how at peace he looks here with me.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” I blurt out.

He holds his pot up with a proud grin, revealing a mix of vibrant greens in a black background. “What do you think?”

I blink in surprise. Oh, wow… Madden has painted tiny mushrooms sprouting from the soil in shades of green, tiny butterflies flitting around them. “Madden… I-I love it. You’re an artist already!” I say, my heart is blooming with love for him.

“Your turn,” he urges, leaning forward, eager to see what I created. So sweet.

With a shy smile, I hold up my pot, turning it so Madden can see every detail. But as soon as he catches sight of it, he freezes, his eyes widening. The moment stretches, and I can feel my heart racing, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding through me.

Does he like it?

“Baby…” he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

I glance down at the pot, seeing what he does. I’ve painted his eyes—those black eyes that I dream about every night. I’ve also added his racing number, and even the tattoos that snake down his throat and arms. I tried to capture his essence in my little ceramic pot.

“I just…” I start, my words stumbling as I try to explain myself. “I want you to see yourself the way I see you,” I whisper, heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m in awe of you…of everything you are.”

Madden blinks, still in shock, and then slowly a smile breaks across his face, illuminating his features. “You’re fucking incredible, Willow,” he says, his voice making my heart flutter. “You’re too good for me, baby.”

Before I can respond, he takes my face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing across my cheeks, and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, like he’s saving this kiss in his memory. When he pulls back, his gaze lingers, and his eyes hold mine with so much intensity that it feels like he’s seeing right through me.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly, and I can’t help but smile, my lips still tingling from his kiss. “Are you happy, Madden?” I ask while tracing his lips with the tips of my fingers.

He holds my gaze, his eyes softening even more, before he whispers back. “The happiest I’ve ever been, baby.

And just like that, there is not a single doubt left in my mind—this is the life I crave. To spend every day with him, like this, surrounded by nature and wrapped in all that is him.