Page 55 of Imperfect Arrangement
“It was better than watching you stand there, torn between blurting out the truth about Quill or keeping her a secret. I didn’t want you forced into revealing her existence before you two were ready.”
My clenched fists loosen a bit. How am I supposed to stay mad at that?
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair. “But this isn’t any better. One lie never stops there. It’s like a bad habit. We don’t even know how many more lies we’ll need to keep this one going.” I shake my head and turn to Willow. “Your turn now. If you need boxing gloves, I’ve got a pair in my office.”
But instead of tearing into Archer like I’d hoped, Willow shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Archer did it for Quill.”
“But there had to be another way. This fake engagement is the worst possible?—”
“Believe me, I’m just as disappointed to be engaged to you,” Willow cuts me off with a deadpan expression.
I can’t help it—a surprised laugh slips out of me.
Archer chuckles from across the table. “I don’t know what you are so worked up about. This is perfect. You both hate each other, so there’s no risk of catching feelings or any of that heartfelt shit. Except…” He taps his chin in mock thought. “You might murder each other in your sleep. So please try to avoid that.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother,” I mutter, raising an eyebrow at him.
He grins, completely unapologetic. “You’re welcome. So, what’s next?”
“Next is you getting out of here with all your limbs intact,” I growl. “Willow and I need to figure out how the hell we’re supposed to salvage this mess you’ve created.”
Archer whistles as he heads for the door. “Welcome to the family, Wills. Can’t wait to have another sister-in-law!”
Before I can hurl something at him, he’s gone.
“Holy crap,” Willow mutters, collapsing into a chair. “Can I just pretend this entire day never happened?” She leans back, head tilted toward the ceiling, clearly exhausted. Despite the chaos, she looks…perfect.
Too perfect, actually.
The kind of perfect that doesn’t feel like the real Willow.
The real Willow is the one who doesn’t think twice about asking me to braid her hair. The one who chases her dog around my house like a character in a Saturday morning cartoon. The one who loves spending evenings reading to my daughter while I linger in my office with the door ajar, hoping to catch Quill’s voice—but she’s still heartbreakingly quiet.
And it’s that Willow, the one with messy buns and unapologetic smiles, who’s been getting under my skin. My gaze drifts to the boat neck of her dress, the tattoos hidden under layers of makeup. It’s like she’s scrubbed away the parts of herself I’ve always been drawn to.
“What are you doing, judging if I’m the right fake fiancée material?” she quips, catching me staring.
I snap out of it, meeting her eyes. “You seem a little too eager to play along.”
And just like that, the fire’s back in her eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, this wasn’t my idea. Your brilliant cousin dropped that bombshell, and now we’re stuck.”
I let out a long breath, sinking into the chair next to her. “We are. So, what do we do now?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can’t blame her. In less than a week, she’s gone from businesswoman to nanny to…fake fiancée. It must be fucking torture.Then she surprises me.
“What about Quill?”
My heart stutters. That’s her concern? My daughter? Can this woman get any more perfect?
My throat feels tight as I answer, “I don’t want her dragged into this mess.”
Willow nods. “Agreed.”
“Good,” I say, relieved we’re on the same page about that, at least. “What about your family?”
“No way,” Willow shrieks, rubbing her eyes like she’s trying to erase whatever mental image that thought conjured. “You don’t want to meet my mom and nana. They’re obsessed with weddings. If they catch wind of this, they’ll kidnap you and hold you hostage until you say ‘I do.’”
I laugh, the sound coming out lighter than I expected. “Got it. Anyone else we need to worry about?”
