I looked over at the woman, who was laughing with Marco and Gabriel at the grill. “Who the hell is she?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to do a public records search, but I didn’t want to seem anti-social, so here I am.”
She dropped her head to my shoulder, and I didn’t waste an opportunity to kiss her forehead, an action she didn’t complain about. “You are anti-social, though. I don’t think anyone would have questioned it.”
“I feel bad.”
“About what?”
She sighed. “About not being closer to your family. I mean, look at Stacy.”
Stacy was engaged in a continuous conversation with Molly, one that eventually had them both laughing. She would touch Luca’s back or arm without concern, and I’d even noticed her swat Marco a time or two when he said something crude. She did seem to sift into the family much better than Willow did.
“Well, she didn’t run away from the life,” I explained. “She realized that being with Gabriel came with all of this, so she just embraced it.”
Willow lifted her head and looked at me. “Are you trying to make me mad?”
“No,” I shot back quickly. “I respect and understand your stance on everything. In fact, I would say that you took the smarter position, but it doesn’t change that it makes it easier for the guys to bond with her because they don’t have to be concerned abo
ut crossing a line.” I grabbed her hand. “Look, just like Stacy decided that being with Gabriel meant accepting the life, I decided that being with you meant leaving it behind. Marco did it, too, with Kelly. It’s a two-way street. Stacy just went that way. Same with Molly.”
I could see Willow calculating my words, trying to decide if they offended her or not. “Would it be easier for you?” she asked suddenly. “If I was more like Stacy.”
“Willow Francine Moretti, I love you exactly as you are,” I responded without hesitation. “It would be impossible for me to love someone different from this.”
Willow stared back at me, wide-eyed, and then smiled. “Thank you. I…”
I knew what she wanted to say, and we both knew it was better that she didn’t say it. Instead, she settled back next to me and returned her head to my shoulder. I would take it. As much or as little of herself as she wanted to hand over, I would take it without complaint.
The next thirty minutes or so were just peaceful silence. We watched the Varassos and Denise play different yard games, continue cooking, and enjoy each other’s presence. Neither Willow nor I felt the need to go over and join in, and no one came to demand it.
“Alexis would love this garden,” Willow said.
“That’s what I was thinking right before you came down. I was thinking about asking Kelly to have one put in at the new estate.”
Willow shifted next to me a little. It was hard to read, but then she said, “That would make me happy,” so I didn’t ask.
“Then it shall be done.” I would give Willow anything she wanted for the rest of our lives. Even if I was just some ex in her life who wouldn’t let go, I would take it. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?” Willow asked.
“For looking into Denise. I know you don’t want to be involved.”
“I didn’t want to be involved, but I think we’re pretty far past that, Sandro.” There wasn’t harshness in her voice when she said it, but comfort. “I stayed here so that you could lean on me when you need to. So lean on me.”
I kissed her forehead again. “Okay. I will.”
“The only way we’re getting through all of this is together.” She looked back up at me, and she had a determined smile on her face. “So let’s figure it out. Together.”
I smiled back at her, a small one that grew each additional second her eyes were on me. “Yeah. Together.”
12
Willow
Alessandro and I managed to stay outside the fray of the barbecue for about an hour, but once the food was done, Stacy beckoned us over to the table she’d set up so that we could sit together and eat. They’d put together quite the spread—grilled hamburgers, chicken, and hot dogs; a fresh fruit salad, a couple of additional salads, one with apples and mandarins among the greenery, and something more like a seven-layer salad; and of course, Denise’s cake. All the fixings for the meat were in platters in the middle of the table, and the buns had all been lightly toasted. My stomach actually let out a light grumble as Alessandro and I sat down at the table.
We started to pass food around the table for everyone to grab what they wanted, and it made me happy when Alessandro quickly dove into the fray to grab a wing off the platter with the chicken to set on my plate. He knew I was partial to them. I took some of each of the salads and a hamburger, and I left Denise’s cake to rot. I’d rather eat mud off the ground than risk my life with whatever she could have added to it.