Page 46 of Endless Love

Willow’s voice softened. “I used to, but she’s in heaven now.”

“Like my Auntie Allee? She’s in heaven too.”

At the mention of Allee’s name, my heart squeezed. So, my sister had told my niece about her. Not commenting, I saw discomfort wash over Willow’s face.

Violet’s twinkling eyes stayed fixed on Willow. “I bet they know each other.”

Willow twitched a smile as she straightened Violet’s long pigtails. “I bet they do.”

“My mommies told me that people in heaven are called angels and they watch over us.”

Willow’s smile widened. “I believe that too. Now, sweetie, you should go to sleep. We have a big day planned for tomorrow.”

“Can you read me a goodnight story first?”

“Sure. What book do you want me to read?”

A few minutes later, we were both seated on the carpet, cross-legged, as Willow read her one of the many Angelina Ballerina picture books she’d brought along.

By the end of the book, Violet was fast asleep. Five minutes later, Willow was out the door, leaving me bereft.

And so a routine began. A full day with Violet in the city…Willow and Vi’s secret girl time…dinner with Mel… television and bedtime.

With each passing day, my feelings for Willow grew. I loved how comfortable she was with my niece and how much Violet adored Willow. My new girl was naturally maternal. One day at lunch, my inquisitive niece asked her if she wanted to be a mommy. Convincingly, Willow told her what she’d told me—she wanted to have lots of kids, and after Violet asked her how many, she counted on her fingers, deciding on ten. Though I didn’t really believe that number, her heartfelt words resonated with me, and once again, I painfully thought about the embryos I’d made with Allee’s eggs. At some point, I was going to have to deal with them. Make a decision.

Putting Violet to bed at once became my favorite and least favorite part of the day. It meant saying goodnight to Willow too. While I was increasingly tempted to fuck her anywhere but my bed—on the kitchen counter, the dining table, the couch, and even the floor, she didn’t give me the chance. Once Violet fell asleep, she gave me the excuse that she had to leave and help her dad. Though I didn’t believe her, I didn’t argue. Fucking Willow while my niece was here probably wasn’t a good idea anyway. I shuddered at the thought of her waking up and finding us bared to each other, entwined on the floor, panting and moaning. At the same time, that image made my cock ache. It had been over a week since I’d fucked Willow. And I wanted her badly. So badly I had to jerk off behind the locked door of my bathroom before I got into bed. My sad, empty bed.

On Monday, the final day of Violet’s stay, I had a long-standing lunch with my literary agent. Having canceled on her too many times, I had to meet her. Over breakfast with my niece at Mel’s, I explained this to Willow.

“Ry-man, don’t worry. I’ll take care of Vi. There’s one thing we haven’t done—and that’s go shopping.”

“Yay!” chimed in my exuberant niece, devouring one of Mel’s specialties—a thick wad of challah French toast smothered in maple syrup.

With a relieved smile, I reached into my jeans pocket for my cardholder and slapped my American Express card on the table.

“Here, baby. Use this.”

To my surprise, Willow shoved the card back at me.

“I don’t need it. This is all on me. Just try to be home by three…when your sister and Beth come to pick up Vi.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Slipping the card back into my pocket, I had the feeling that a surprise awaited me.

My literary agent, Paula Friedman, had agreed to meet me downtown for lunch at trendy Balthazar. I owed Paula my success. While the manuscript for Undying Love was initially rejected by agent after agent, all saying no one wanted to read a book with a sad ending, Paula fell in love with it and managed to sell it to a major publisher, getting me a nice advance. Little did anyone know that Allee’s farewell love letter would go viral and the book would go on to become a major bestseller. A shrewd, don’t-fuck-with-me negotiator, Paula had been instrumental in getting me a shitload of money for the film rights as well as a subsequent three-book deal, this time with an ungodly, unheard of advance.

Over roasted beet salads, we chatted about the literary world as well as the movie version of Undying Love. I told her I was going out to LA on Wednesday to meet with the producer and some of the cast. Then, she cut to the chase.

“Ryan, I’m getting a lot of pressure from your publisher for your next book. What’s going on?”

Every muscle inside me tensed. Since writing Undying Love, I’d suffered from major writer’s block. I’d been dealing with it with Dr. Goodman, who told me it was likely attached to my inability to let go of Allee. “Emotionally stuck,” he called it. Playing with my greens, I faltered for words. Okay, one word…

“Nothing.” I hung my head in shame.

“Ryan, look at me.” Her voice was soft but firm.

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