Willow fiddled with her glass of water. She could feel Blake’s eyes on her, intense and demanding from the kitchen. Blake, Logan, and Jason were getting beers, then they were supposed to be disappearing into Blake’s study.
Usually, she loved his presence. Right now, she needed him gone. How long did it take to grab some beers? Not this long.
She didn’t look over. She couldn’t. Because ever since he’d found her in Flynn’s office earlier that day, he’d been asking too many questions. Studied her face too closely.
Grace and Courtney’s voices fluttered through her thoughts. She was pretty sure they were asking “would you rather” questions, but she was struggling to follow.
Come on, Willow, concentrate on them, she scolded herself. Not the big looming man in the kitchen.
The second they’d gotten home, Willow had texted the women and asked them to come over for girls’ night tonight. Because otherwise, Blake would get the words out of her. And then he’d make her take a test and possibly turn this “maybe” into a reality.
No. Not tonight. Tonight, she was hanging on to hope that she’d wake up tomorrow with her period, and all her worry would be for nothing.
“What do you think, Willow? How long would you survive?”
She blinked at Courtney’s words, forcing herself out of her head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A zombie apocalypse comes, you’re on your own—so no relying on any super-fast, super-strong boyfriend to save you—how long do you survive?”
Grace smiled. “I’ve already admitted I wouldn’t last long. A few days, maybe a week, tops. Depends how quickly they find me in whichever nook I’ve curled myself into.”
Courtney leaned forward, hand on her chest. “Whereas I think I’d do quite well. As long as I had a dagger to slice and dice those dead scumbags.” She turned to Grace. “And I think you’d do better than you think.”
A look passed between them. Something that left Willow yet again wondering about the details of Grace’s past.
When both of them looked at Willow again, she sighed. “I’ve never considered a zombie apocalypse. Would Mila be with me?”
Courtney lifted a shoulder. “It’s possible.”
“Well, if Mila was with me, I’d be there for the long haul because I’d do anything and everything to survive and protect that kid.” Alien invasion. Ice Age. She’d do whatever it took, fight whatever other-earthly creature she had to.
Courtney’s and Grace’s expressions softened.
“But if it was just me,” Willow continued, “I’d probably be more like Grace. Find a nook and hide.” Because really, who had the energy to fight off zombies for the rest of their life without external motivators?
Grace tapped her chin. “Okay, so, I need to have a child in order to have the will to fight zombies.”
They all chuckled. Willow nodded. “Exactly.”
A smile tugged at Courtney’s lips as she took a sip of her wine. “Better get on that, never know when one’s around the corner.”
Willow had taken a glass of wine too, mostly because she’d already said yes when she remembered she might be pregnant. It sat on the coffee table, untouched.
The guys stepped into the room. Willow shot a look up at Blake. It was the first time she’d looked directly at him since getting home. He was wearing a dark gray shirt that matched the gray of his eyes. It pulled snugly across his biceps and chest, making him look huge, as per usual.
When their gazes clashed, she sucked in a quick, deep breath. Yep. Just as intense and questioning as they’d been all afternoon.
She quickly looked away.
“We’ll disappear into the office,” he said quietly, beer in hand. “But trust me, none of you are going into a zombie apocalypse without us.”
“Damn straight,” Jason said. “I’ll be right there with you to dice those zombies, Courtney.”
She scoffed. “You say that now, but then you get turned into a super-zombie, and where does that leave me?”
“Yeah, then you’d have to become a zombie with me. You’re the first one I’d come after.”
Courtney’s eyes closed. “I’m doomed.”
Willow snuck a peek up at Blake. Mm-hmm, still watching her. He bent down, pressing a small kiss on her cheek, lips lingering like they always did, before leaving the room with the guys.
Willow gave a little involuntary shiver, still feeling his lips right there, even after he’d left.
“So, if the guys don’t make it, none of us will,” Courtney grumbled.
Grace lifted a shoulder. “Eh, might be fun to be a zombie. We’ve been human long enough.”
Willow laughed, and it felt good. “Interesting way to look at it.” She rose from the couch. “Anyone want candy? We have Red Vines, M&M’s, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups…we might even have some Twinkies.”
Courtney had brought some pastries from The Grind but they’d been devoured within minutes of everyone arriving, mostly by the guys.
“Holy Moses, woman, you have all that in your kitchen?” Courtney sounded shocked.
“We’re like a candy store over here.” She opened the pantry door, hearing footsteps behind her as Courtney and Grace took seats at the island.
“I’d love some peanut butter cups,” Grace said.
“Twinkie for me, please,” Courtney added.
She eyed the candy shelf. Yes, Blake had an entire shelf dedicated to candy. He called it his “Willow and Mila Emergency Shelf”. He’d stocked the same things in their previous home, before Mila was born, claiming most arguments originated because she was hungry and needed a hit of sugar. Before Mila had been born, that was probably true.
She grabbed a bit of everything and dropped the stash onto the island. “Blake says that every man needs a sugar shelf for when his woman is hangry.”
“Smart man,” Grace said, taking a peanut butter cup and tearing the paper. She frowned. “I doubt there’d be any candy in a post-apocalyptic world. Not for long at least.”
Courtney grabbed a Twinkie. “You’ll just need to raid all the shelves at the stores and take candy to your hiding spot. Unless you choose to dagger them with me.”
Grace smiled. “Guess it depends on how brave I’m feeling.”
Courtney rolled her eyes. “Grace, don’t even make me start. We all know you’re the bravest woman around.”
Willow remained quiet, studying both women.
Grace caught her gaze, tossing the wrapper on the table. “Sorry. We keep referencing things that I haven’t shared.”
Willow opened her mouth to promise she didn’t need to share anything unless she wanted to, but Grace was already talking.
“When I was in my early twenties, I was kidnapped by a man who worked for a sex trafficking ring.”
Willow’s jaw dropped open. She’d heard about Courtney’s brush with the Italian Mafia, but Blake had never mentioned a sex trafficking ring. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”
She gave a small smile. “Thank you. The guy who did it had me in his basement for a week before I escaped. For a long time, I was scared he’d find me, and then, eventually, he did.”
Willow’s heart crashed against her ribs.
“It was…traumatic. And incredibly hard to recover from. But by the time he found me again, I’d met Logan,” Grace continued. “And long story short, Logan killed him.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. But, God, I really am sorry.” She couldn’t even imagine the hell that must have been Grace’s life.
“I’m very grateful to be where I am right now. Logan is…” Grace closed her eyes before opening them again. “He’s everything. As well as protecting me physically, he’s really helped me heal.”
Willow’s heart went out to the woman.
The three of them carried the candy into the living room. Courtney paused at a picture on top of the fireplace. “This is cute.”
It was a picture of Willow holding Mila when she was a newborn. Blake had his arm around them.
Willow remembered that day well. It had been her first outing after getting out of the hospital. They’d gone to a park for some fresh air. Willow had been so hopeful that getting outside would help her feel more like herself. “Mila was only a few weeks old there.”
Courtney smiled, placing the picture back down. “You all look happy.”
Willow could have laughed. That’s how deceptive photos were. They could show you anything, even rewriting history with a beautiful lie. “Behind the smile was a lot of grief.”
Not just grief. Sadness. Anxiety. Emotions she’d had no idea how to handle.
Courtney’s brows pulled together as she took her seat again. “I’m sorry.”
Willow’s eyes went back to the picture. It was almost strange, knowing that no one looking at her that day had seen the internal struggle she’d been going through. Not even Blake, the man who’d always seen everything.
“No one prepares you for the emotional side of motherhood,” she said quietly. “From the second I gave birth, I didn’t feel like myself. I thought it would pass but it just…didn’t. Blake wasn’t able to take much time off work, and I just remember feeling so alone and isolated. My hormones were all over the place.”
“PPD is so much more common than people think,” Grace offered.
Willow knew that now. “I wish people would talk about its prevalence more. About the grieving that women go through for the body they once had. The changes in the relationship with their partner. The loss of the life they’d led up to that point.” She gave a little shake of her head. “I remember feeling guilty about grieving for those things when I had the most precious gift of all. I mean, I had a beautiful child, who I loved and felt so grateful for, but I was still so sad.”
It was Grace’s turn to shake her head. “You should not feel guilty. The hormonal changes after having a baby, not to mention the lack of sleep, all affect our emotions. Postpartum depression doesn’t discriminate, but it does look different on every woman.” She paused. “The struggles of becoming a mom—whether that’s a first-time mom or a fourth-time mom—need to be de-stigmatized and normalized.”
“I agree. The therapist I went to was wonderful. I saw her for a year. She prescribed some medication, and I took it for almost as long.”
Willow wet her lips, debating over whether to admit the next part, but needing to talk about it.
“I’m scared that I could fall back into that dark place again.” The words tumbled out. And they were more true today than they’d ever been. Tackling that illness was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. It scared the heck out of her.
“You know the signs now,” Grace assured her. “Blake knows the signs. You’ve got people here who love and will look out for you. If you ever feel yourself going there again, you’d have help immediately.”
She was right. Of course she was. But the fear was still there.
Courtney nodded. “I know I’ve said it before, but I think it warrants repeating. She’s a kick-ass therapist.”
Willow chuckled, lifting her glass of water. “Thank you. You’ve both been such great friends to me.”
Grace smiled. “Of course.”
“And we’re so happy you and Blake made it work.” Courtney sighed. “That man looked at you with those sad, lovesick eyes for too long.”
Willow was sure it was exactly how she’d looked at him, too.
