Page 51 of The Problem with Falling
And he told Willow he was having a party. I bet she had no clue it was a party for two. What a fucking dick move on his part. I wondered if she was okay.
Don’t overthink it, Theo. She’s a grown woman who can handle herself.
But what if she couldn’t?
None of your business. Get her out of your mind.
But what if I couldn’t?
“You sure he said he wasn’t having a party?” I questioned, not wanting to think the worst of Peter even though I knew I was more than allowed to think the worst of him after his history of terrible choices.
“Positive. He said Willow came on to him the other day in town. Figured he’d see where it could go. Between you and me, I think she’s too good for him.”
That was a given. Any living human was too good for Peter Langford.
I grumbled to myself.
She came on to him?
When?
I swear Peter lived in a state of delusion. If you asked him, anyone he found attractive was madly in love with him. I figured that was his way of convincing himself that he could have whatever he wanted. Even if that was a person like Willow.
Did she want him, though?
Did I miss something?
No.
She wanted to dance.
Maybe I should just drive past his place and see…
Did that count as stalking? I didn’t need to stalk the woman. I was overthinking it. She was fine. She was probably more than fine. I needed to simply take my boat onto the water and let my thoughts evaporate into the stillness of the night. The last thing I needed was to be worried about a woman I hardly knew and one I’d been actively pushing away from me.
But still…
“Hey, buddy. I forgot I have to check on something. Do you mind if I drop you by PaPa’s for a bit?” I asked Jensen.
“Oh, yeah. Okay. I told him I’d help him chop up some wood anyway,” he said, not noticing how my anxiety was shooting through the roof.
Willow was fine.
I was certain of it.
But still…
CHAPTER 14
Willow
Theo was right.
I wasn’t as happy as I pretended to be, which was why I didn’t like to be alone.
It seemed as though Theo had no issues with the lonely factor. Though I wasn’t certain if lonely and alone were the same thing.
I couldn’t stand to be alone. My thoughts couldn’t handle that self-reflection concept. I much preferred to live as if I were a character in a storybook, writing a fiction script day in and day out. And when things started to feel a littletooreal, that was when I’d break into act two and start the rewriting process to my made-up story.
