Page 58 of Friends Who Fake It

He closed his eyes, his face pale beneath his tan, so she immediately regretted her outburst. But then, he opened his eyes, and smiled, shaking his head slowly as he moved towards her and gripped her face in his hands.

“The thing is, I arrived here thinking that you loving me was the last thing I wanted. Then you said the words, andCristo, if I’m not the happiest guy on earth right now.”

She stared up at him, her heart getting whiplash from the way it had been pulled in different directions.

“What does that mean?” he asked, but this time, his lips were pulling with a slight smile, so her heart shifted in the right direction—towards his.

“You’re still not going to say it?”

“Oh, I’m going to say it,” he promised, moving his hands so he could lift her over his shoulder, and stepping into her hallway, kicking the door shut behind him. “But, first? I’m going to show you.”

And he did. In her bedroom, they made love until Willow’s whole body was trembling with desire and she was almost floating with pleasure, and then, he stared into her eyes and said, “I do love you, Willow. I think I’ve always loved you. It took the realization that I might have actually lost you to Tom, that I might have lost you for good, for me to finally get my head around why I can’t let that happen. You are everything to me, baby.”

She closed her eyes on the way that made her feel, her insides all squirmy and warm.

“I have no idea how to do this,” he said, holding her against his chest. “So, I’m not promising I won’t stuff up, that I won’t get it wrong sometimes, but I am promising I will always love you. And that love will not destroy me, and it will not destroy you. Whatever happens in this life, loving each other will always make us strong.”

“Loving each other,” she added, softly, with tears in her eyes. “Will always be the best thing we ever did. And I don’t intend to stop, ever.”

“Well, that makes me feel pretty relieved.”

“Now, kiss me again, Francesco. We’ve got some lost time to make up for…”

The next weekend, Willow went home with Francesco. She had the aching knowledge that she wasn’t welcome at her own family home, and yet she felt more welcomed and loved than she had in her life at the Santoro’s, and that was more than fair compensation.

This time, there was no pretending, no guilt over lying to his nearest and dearest. They were able to lose themselves in the newness of their love, to celebrate what they’d found, and by the end of the holidays, they knew what was patently obvious to everyone else: this was the kind of love that played for keeps.

Returning to London from Italy, they didn’t really even discuss moving in together. It just happened organically. One night turned into ten, turned into a month, and by the time Willow’s birthday rolled around in March, she hadn’t been back to her place for weeks on end. So when her twin sisters asked if she could help them find somewhere to live in London, it was the easiest thing in the world for Willow to extend the offer of her home. Francesco helped them move in, and the four of them ate dinner that night.

It was strange for Willow to realise that away from the oppressive Meredith, she actually really enjoyed the twins’ company. They were totally different people when not under her watchful gaze.

Over time, her relationship with Meredith thawed. It was, however, the one downside to Willow’s engagement announcement—knowing how happy she’d made her superficial, social climbing stepmother. The good, however, far outweighed the bad, and when she and Francesco married, at the end of the summer, Willow had the most calming feeling that everything was just settling into place for her, exactly as it was meant to be.

She’d found her happily ever after, and she never intended to let it go.

THE END

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