Page 54 of Buried Roots

“I had this habit of not listening to my father. I was kind of an asshole, actually.”

“Was?” I pat his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. But he’s not having it, so I say, “I’m just kidding. That’s hard to imagine.”

“Back then, I thought I knew everything. I resented my dad because he was away from the family so much. His job as DA took all his time.” Owen starts the ignition, as if he’s said all he’s going to about that.

But I want to know more this time. “Tell me how your dad died.”

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he puts the car in drive and inches onto to the road. Staring ahead, he says, “Today was a lot for you, Willow. And a lot for me, too. Can we hold off on that story?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, automatically, because he’s got a fair point. At least, logically, he does. But the illogical side of me feels a touch resentful. Owen now knows my deepest, darkest secrets—things so scarring, my own brain shielded them from me, and Istilldon’t know what happened to his father.

My heart is breaking and bursting at the same time. The emotional part of me wants him to tell me so it balances the scales, but that’s unfair.

It’s clear Owen has intense grief over his father, and I know that pain all too well. This is the first time he’s mentioned anything about it, so it has to be a big deal for him. After we drive for a stretch in comfortable silence, I squeeze his hand. “Thank you. For today.”

His lips split into a sweet smile, something flickering in his eyes. “Thanks for being you. A person I feel more comfortable with than anyone else.”

“I feel the same.”

And with that, we go quiet, the only sound the hum of the tires on the road, and I nod off, too exhausted trying to find any answers to this mess.

It’s late afternoon when we roll back into the driveway of Bo’s Château. All the trucks are gone, which means we must’ve just missed the crew before they left for the day. Phil, the manager, was supposed to text me when they finished.

My phone dings, and it’s Natanya. It says,Where are you???!! Call me NOW.

I realize this message was sent two hours ago, but I didn’t get it. Maybe I lost cell phone service through the mountains?

Then more messages come in, one after another.

Phil:We’re done for the day.

Natanya:Willow, the Kleins need to pick their selections, and I don’t have them.

Natanya:Hellooo. Please. Aston Klein’s forehead vein is about to burst. You really should’ve let me handle the selections.

Natanya:They just stormed out of the meeting. Now what?

“Oh, my god!” I cry out, dialing Natanya. When she doesn’t pick up, I break into a sweat.

“What happened?” Owen’s face crumples.

“I’m sorry—I need to jump on my computer. I’ve messed things up with the Kleins.Again.”

“Willow.” He touches my shoulder. “Take a second to grab a bite. Come to my house and have dinner with me and my family. Then you can work the rest of the night. I won’t bug you.”

I can’t imagine having a meal with his family right now—no more discomfort for today. “Thanks for the offer, but how about I make you dinner? After I finish with this emergency.” Normally, I’d need some space after today, but I don’t. My whole life in New York is space, and right now, I don’t want to be alone.

“Okay. Fair enough. I’ll go change.”

“Sure.” I rush into the house, in disbelief that I completely forgot about sending the Kleins their selections today. I was relying on my phone to ring, and when it didn’t, it escaped me.

But Ineverforget these things. Except lately.

I make Owen spaghetti and meatballs in my newly restored kitchen with stainless steel appliances, painted quiet-close cabinets, and marble countertops. And with a gorgeous butler’s pantry, including a hammered round sink and under-cabinet lighting, it’s stunning.

Earlier, I rushed to my computer where I pulled up the shipment and sent out all the selections to the Kleins with an apology note and an offer to cover the cost of some of the lighting fixtures. Normally, I get a confirmation email back from Aston Klein right away, but it’s been over an hour, and it hasn’t come.

I set the table, which is a stunning refurbished oak piece, as I prepare for Owen to arrive. I can’t stop my mind wandering back to the events of today. Bo and Lily helped raise me. So, how come they never came to find me? Clearly, they knew I was alive because they willed me this place. Maybe I’m remembering wrong, and they didn’t take care of me. Maybe they just let my mom stay at their place.

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