Page 93 of Holding On To Good

Yes, there were plenty of good-looking, successful men in Mount Laurel, but few came close to Conrad’s movie-star looks and none of them came anywhere close to having his money.

The Andersons were loaded with a capital L.

“Only the best for our Willow,” Miles said cheerfully.

“I hate you both,” Urban grumbled.

“Okay, so as I was saying,” Verity continued, “Willow will start seeing someone else, someone like Conrad Anderson, who is, like, a complete hottie, but in this case, we’re also going to assume that he’s open and honest and not afraid to tell a woman how he feels about her. Willow will finally have to accept that you” —she nodded at Urban— “are never going to step up to the plate and take your swing. She’ll see you for the lost cause you are and let herself fall in love with Conrad or someone like him. For real this time.” Verity paused. “Forever, this time.”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

Let him chew on that for a while.

The dummy.

Flouncing off and stomping away would’ve proven her point better—not to mention would’ve been way more satisfying—but she was at work and would remain professional. She kept her steps light and quick, her expression calm. Being a good server meant always moving, hustling and otherwise running your butt off all while being pleasant, courteous and smiling, smiling, smiling.

Never let them see you sweat. The waitstaff motto.

She stopped at a few tables on her way to the kitchen to check on her customers, keeping her tone pleasant, her expression sunny and a happy, here-to-serve-all-you-hungry-people smile on her face. Why, no one would ever know she was fighting the urge to drag Urban out of his seat by his ear and demand he stop being such a ninny and hook up with Willow already.

Her brothers. So stubborn.

Every. Last. One.

They were lucky their lives weren’t more screwed up, what with their inability to listen to her good advice.

But she’d done all she could. It was up to him now.

God help them all.

She delivered meals to table nine, refilled water glasses and coffee cups at table four and cleared plates and boxed up leftovers at table six before making her way back to her brothers’ booth, their checks in hand.

Only to find Urban was gone.

“Did he honestly leave without saying goodbye?” she asked Miles, who handed her his credit card. “Jeez. Men really can’t handle the truth, can they?”

“We’re a simple lot,” Miles said mildly.

“At least tell me he saw the light, sang my praises for setting him straight and saving him from himself, and swore to name his and Willow’s firstborn after me. Boy or girl.”

“He didn’t say anything, just took off. Although he did look a little pale. And determined. And he was muttering under his breath what an arrogant prick Conrad Anderson is and how much he hates him.”

“I guess I’ll have to take that as a good sign. And he should be pale. He should be, like, completely sick with worry over even the slightest possibility of losing Willow. Determined is well and good, but I would’ve preferred more wailing and gnashing of teeth. What?” she asked when she caught Miles staring at her in a cross between awe, confusion and dismay.

Her brothers had a hard time following her logic. And often failed to see her genius.

“I don’t want him tortured,” she continued. “Much. But it wouldn’t hurt him to suffer. I mean, of course suffering is going to hurt him, that’s the whole point of it—”

“The way your mind works,” Miles murmured, shaking his head, “scares the hell right out of me.”

“—but it won’t be anything compared to the loss and agony he’s going to feel if he doesn’t get his head out of his butt and go after Willow with everything he’s got. Trust me, losing her for good, especially to someone else, will decimate him. I’m talking complete and utter annihilation. Just” —she opened her fingers wide at the side of her head, miming an explosion— “boom!”

“Well, you did a great job painting the picture of what that agonized, decimated life would look like. For a moment there, I thought I was at Willow and Anderson’s wedding, watching her walk down the aisle to him.”

“Between Willow’s excellent taste and design skills and the Andersons’ money, it’d be a gorgeous wedding, for sure. And their kids? Adorable.” She picked up the cash Urban had left—swear to God, if he stiffed her on the tip just because she laid out a few harsh realities, she was so short-sheeting his bed the first chance she got. As soon as she looked up how to do it. “I mean, they wouldn’t be as cute as the babies she and Urban are going to make or anything, so don’t even think about telling my future nieces and nephews some wackadoodle story about me preferring imaginary kids over them.”

“At this point, they’re all imaginary. You know that, right?”

---