The thoughts kept swirling through Willow’s brain, so when Maddie floated the idea of cancelling their dinner reservationand just grabbing some bar snacks, if it meant Willow could stay with them a while longer, she felt like she was being suffocated. She had to get out of there.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, shaking her head. “I really can’t stay.”
Maddie looked a little surprised and beside her, Willow felt Francesco stiffen. “I’ve got a huge week,” she repeated the same lie she’d given Francesco. “I have to get home and catch up on social media stuff.”
“Oh, that’s such a shame,” Maddie cooed, and Willow tried not to focus on how much she liked the other woman. How much, in other circumstances, she might have just settled back into the booth seat and let herself lap up this sense ofbelonging.Of being wanted. Of having other people actually talk about changing their plans so she could spend more time with them.
“Another time,” Willow said, blithely, her glance incorporating Rocco, before she steeled herself to turn to Francesco. “I’d better get going.”
“I’ll come with you,” he offered, contrary to their agreement.
“No, that’s not necessary,” she responded, a little too sharply. She softened it with an over-bright smile. “Catch up with your family.”
His expression was droll. “You say that like we don’t ever see each other.”
“It’s fine,” she said, tone insistent. “I just have to work—there’s no sense ruining your night for that. Have a good time.”
Except, he was on the edge of the booth, meaning without his moving, she remained effectively trapped, and for a long beat of time, Willow wondered if he wasn’t going to move. But then, slowly, he unfurled his large body, and stood, his tongue briefly pressing the inside of his cheek, as though he was trying to hold back some words. “I’ll just see Willow into a cab. Excuse me,” he said, without taking his eyes off Willow. And his expression was,suddenly, thunderous. In a way that sent shivers down Willow’s spine, and which she couldn’t understand.
His hand on the small of her back as they left the bar was firm. As they stepped outside, she pulled her coat on, taking a moment, only to find Francesco was staring at her with that same, angry look, and a sense that he was holding back from saying whatever was bothering him.
“Okay,” she said, not sure she wanted to press into whatever bruise it was. “Have a nice night.”
“Have a nice night?” he repeated, clearly incredulous. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not doing your bit.”
“What?”
“We had a deal.”
She blinked at him, not understanding.
“You’re meant to be convincing them we’re in love.”
Her jaw parted.
“No, I’m playing your girlfriend. No one said anything about love.”
His eyes shifted away, like he was pushing down on some dark emotion, controlling his inner-most thoughts before he looked at her again, nostrils flaring in the same display of control.
“Would it have killed you to stay another half hour?”
Yes.“I would have thought you’d be glad I’m leaving. It gets you off the hook way sooner.”
“Off the hook?”
“From spending a night with me.”
His jaw tightened, like he was grinding his teeth. “I have no issue spending the night with you.”
Willow’s stomach rolled, because that was the last thing she wanted to hear. Talk about damning with faint praise. But what had she expected? A declaration of love?
Yes.At least, that’s what she’d desperately wanted.
“And we had a deal. This is what we do. I played the part for your family?—,”