My words falter, and all I can do is squeeze her, a tidal wave of relief at having her in my arms again washing through me. Her arms go around my waist, hugging me back, and a knot in my gut releases as hope blooms.

  Quietly, she says, “I don’t want you to regret this later. Regret me. What if you never get another chance like the one Jeremy is giving you? What if you only sing at Hank’s for the rest of your life? You’re too good for that.”

  “I could never regret you, sweetheart. I only wish I’d found you sooner so I could’ve loved you longer. You’re amazing and special, and I don’t care if the only place I ever play is my tailgate and the only audience I ever have is you and our kids. That’s enough for me. You’re enough for me. Hell, you’re more than enough,” I say with a small chuckle. This woman is way too good for me, but I’ll do my damnedest to make sure I’m worth her.

  “Oh, my God, Willow. If you don’t kiss that man, I’m going to,” Carrie says, laughing through sniffly tears.

  Willow looks over to her mom. I still can’t. My eyes are only for Willow until she says yes. Until she says she’s mine.

  “Tell me, sweetheart.”

  “I love you, Bobby.”

  I can see her licking her lips in preparation and feel her lifting to her toes. I try to be patient and let her kiss me this time, but at the last second, I can’t wait anymore and I meet her halfway.

  Though our lips move against one another the way they have dozens of times before, something is different about this kiss. This kiss is a promise of a shared future, of the two of us against the world, of nothing ever coming between us again.

  “I love you too.” I murmur the words against her lips, unwilling to stop kissing her but needing to tell her again and again.

  After a minute, or hell, maybe it’s several, Carrie clears her throat. “Not to break up the lovefest, but obviously, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, Bobby. And we don’t leave for Great Falls until tomorrow, so I’ll get the guest room fixed up for you.”

  Carrie brushes past us, humming a tune that catches my ear. You Are My Sunshine, one of my mom’s favorites. It feels like a sign that she’s here too and approves of what I’m doing. More likely, it’s just a common, popular song, but I prefer to think it’s Mom.

  “Guest room?” I ask Willow, giving her a cocky grin.

  She gives me back one of those soft smiles, and I almost gasp at how beautiful it is. I’m going to spend my whole life making her give me those, saving each and every one like shiny treasures in my pocket. Proof of a woman well-loved and a life well-lived.

  “Mom is surprisingly old-fashioned about that.” Willow shrugs.

  “But not the mauling I just laid down on her daughter in her front room?” I growl out on a laugh.

  Willow’s eyes go wide, the gray popping behind her lenses. “Oh, my God, she saw all of that!” She buries her face in her hands, but not before I see the blush on her cheeks.

  I tilt her chin back up with a light touch of my finger. “I don’t give a shit, sweetheart. I’ll tell your Mom, your Dad, Hank, the whole damn town how I feel about you. You want me to spray paint it on a water tower or something? I’ll do it. Write a song? Done. Name it, because I’m proud to say you’re mine.”

  Her blush has turned heated and she meets my eyes boldly now. “And you’re mine.”

  “Fuck yeah, I am.”

  Dinner is . . . weirdly quiet. I mean, compared to one of our family dinners, most folks’ meals probably are.

  Carrie and Wayne sit at the head and foot of the table, Oakley and his wife, Madison, on one side, and Willow and me on the other. For six people, the conversation is easy and shockingly, everyone takes turns speaking. Like I said, weirdly quiet when only one person talks at a time instead of us Tannens and Bennetts chattering over each other like impatient toddlers.

  They ask me the standard questions, and though I’ve never been serious enough with anyone to do the ‘meet the family’ routine, I think I ace them, mostly because I love Willow so they’re generously forgiving of my lack of slick, practiced answers.

  Wayne asks a lot of questions about the soil composition of the farm, and I tell him how we prep for different crops in different fields, rotating them to keep the soil nutrient-dense. “I’d like to see that, maybe run a few tests if you don’t mind?”

  I shrug, worried more about keeping my fork moving because I’m so hungry. “I’ll have to check with Mama Louise. It’s her land now, but I don’t think she’d mind.” If Mama Louise says no, I’ll promise to weed her entire garden for a year to get a yes because I need to make nice with Willow’s dad.

  He gives me a nod, looking ready to go right now, and I think I’m on his good side.

  Carrie tells Willow about a new exhibit that begins at her gallery, and they talk about composition, lines, and the ‘transformative power of space’. I have a moment of panic, not understanding anything they’re talking about, but when I look at Wayne, Oakley, and Madison, they seem as lost as I am but are still paying close attention.

  They’re all passionate people with their own interests, but they find it in their hearts to support each other, listen to one another, and love their individual obsessions because they’re family. I can see where Willow gets her kind heart. It was cultivated right here with these people.

  “Oh, can I show Bobby your gallery collection in the hallway?” Carrie asks Willow.

  Willow smiles, hopping up from the table. “Yeah! Actually, I’m going to go get my yearbook too, show him where it all really started.”

  “Can I see the doughnut-baby picture too?” I ask, and Willow laughs loud and bright at the memory of our first conversation. Our happiest moments, my getting Betty and her photographing a lady’s doughnut baby for her first photography paycheck.

  It feels like I met you yesterday. It feels like I’ve known you forever.

  Carrie smiles, getting up from the table. “Let me help you find that yearbook. I can’t remember what shelf I put it on.”

  They head down the hallway but don’t go too far, and I overhear Carrie quietly tell Willow, “I’m so proud of you. You went out there for Hank, fixed that, and made a whole new life for yourself. It suits you. I can see how much you’ve grown while you’ve been in Great Falls, and I think that man in there has something to do with it. You’re bigger, bolder somehow. You always were, but it was like you put a lampshade on your brightness. But now, you’re shining bright, sharing that heart you’ve always had.”

  Willow clears her throat, and though I can’t see her, I know she’s got one of her soft smiles gracing her lips.

  Carrie might be seeing that change now for the first time, but I’ve known Willow was sweet, kind, and also strong all along. She’s had to be to put up with Hank. Fine, and me too.

  Wayne asks another question about pesticide residues, and I let Willow take her time finding the pictures to show me. I’m good here, with her people, especially knowing that we leave tomorrow to go home. Together.

  26

  WILLOW

  “You ready?”

  Mom and I are standing beneath the glowing light of the sign outside Hank’s. I can’t believe that it’s only been a few short months since I stood here that first time, nervous about what I’d find inside. Now, I’m ready to get in there and check on Hank, say hi to Olivia, Ilene, and Daniel, and get back behind the bar.

  I’ve missed this place, these people, this feeling of home.

  Mom grips my hand, her voice a little strained. “He knows I’m coming, right?”

  She’s nervous, having spent twenty minutes picking an outfit, as if Hank will notice or care at all, and her hand is a bit shaky in mine. I’m surprised, having only seen Mom confident, no matter the room she’s walking into.

  I squeeze her hand reassuringly as I remind her, “Yes, he knows. You talked to Unc yesterday. He told you to come at lunch today.”

  “Right, yeah,” she says with a mindless nod that confirms she’s still uncertain.

  The door creaks and we step inside. Before my eyes even adjust, I hear a loud call, “Willow! Carrie! Ooh, if you two aren’t a sight for sore eyes. Get over here and hug my neck.”

  Unc is making his way around the bar, moving quickly despite his limp and looking well. Mom meets him in the middle, and they wrap their arms around each other, swaying away years of hurt and pride.

  Tears prick at my eyes. This is why we should’ve done this a long time ago.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mom blubbers through tears of her own.

  “Hush with that shit. The fault rests on my shoulders. They ain’t as strong as they used to be, but I can carry this responsibility. I should’ve fixed it after Harold died so I didn’t miss out on you and your family.” Unc’s blue eyes meet mine around Mom’s head and he shoots me a wink. “You did good with ’em, Carrie. Especially that one over there.”

  Mom beams proudly as she looks back at me. “I did, didn’t I?” To Unc, she says, “How about if we leave the past in the past? No need to even give it another minute of our time. We can start fresh and move forward from this moment right here.”

  “That sounds nice,” Unc agrees, but then he holds up a bony finger. “With one exception. I wanna hear what you’ve been up to. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. There’s a lot I’ve missed.” He chokes out, “Too much.”

  Mom reaches up and grabs him into a hug again, and I hear her whisper, “I’d like that.”

  Unc leads her off toward a table in the corner, but he calls out over his shoulder, “You’d better get to work, Willow-girl. Prep ain’t gonna do itself, and the dinner crowd will be here before you know it.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his roundabout way of saying ‘welcome back, glad you’re here’ that sounds a whole lot like ‘you’ve been falling down on the job’.

  “Love you too, old man.”

  He snorts, but I catch the brightness of his grin as he pulls a chair out for Mom to sit down so they can catch up. I head behind the bar and grab one of his craft beers, popping the top, and pour Mom a glass of red wine. I take them over, promising to grab them some food too.

  “Tell Ilene I’ll take my usual,” Unc requests. “And get Carrie a special.” I dip my chin in acknowledgement, and Unc tells Mom, “Ilene made chili today. It’s the best you’ll ever have, but my belly can’t always handle it.”

  The casual way he alludes to the cancer is a definite change. I’m sure it’s only with the two of us since we already know about his diagnosis, but still, it’s a good sign that he’s being so open.

  In the kitchen, Ilene screeches, “Oh, my goodness gracious, Willow! You’re back!” Ilene can’t hug me with a chili-covered spoon in her hand, but she kisses the air beside my cheek in greeting. “Thank the heavens because that stubborn old guy out there needs you. Don’t let him tell you any differently.”

  “Actually, he told me to get to work and then promptly sat down with my mom, so I don’t think he’d argue with you.”

  We lock eyes, silent for a split second, and then crack up. “Oh, he’d argue, all right. Thinks he can do anything a man forty years his junior can do.” She drops the spoon back into the pot on the stove, stirring slowly as though that makes her next question seem casual. “Speaking of younger men . . . you bring back a particular one with you?”

  Gossip from the source, the town pastime.

  “Maybe,” I drawl out around a grin.

  “Yes!” Chili goes splattering as she throws her arms high in celebration. “You two are the cutest. Glad you got yourselves worked out.”

  She gets back to work with her huge pots of chili simmering on the stove, which reminds me, “Oh, Unc said he wanted his usual and a bowl of chili for my mom.”

  Ilene hums as she pulls down a bowl, and I excuse myself back out to the bar to let her work. Almost immediately, I’m attacked by Olivia.

  “Willow!” she shouts, running for me. She has no problem hugging me, her arms wrapping around me so tightly she almost picks me up.

  “Olivia!” I parrot her excited tone, laughing and trying to squeeze her back.

  She sets me down, pulling back to ask, “When did you get back? Are you already working? Where’s Bobby? Did you take him back? Holy shit, you should’ve seen him come barreling in here demanding that Hank tell him where you were. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She fans her face, and I swat her shoulder, ignoring all the other questions to answer the most important one. “Down, girl, he’s all mine.”

  It feels good to claim him again because he is mine, and nothing or no one is going to change that.

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Quit yer chitter-chatter and get to work, you two,” Unc says, sounding grumpy. But when I look over, he’s smiling, his happiness obvious on his lined face and in his bright blue eyes.

  “Let’s go!” a loud voice calls out over by the pool table.

  “Pull yourself together,” Unc hollers back, “or I’ll cut you off before the party even gets started, Willie.”

  The young guy, who has a permed mullet—yeah, both hairstyles on one blond head—isn’t the least bit chastised, flashing Unc two thumbs up and a big, open-mouthed grin.

  My lips lift ever so slightly, fighting a laugh, because Willie’s not even drinking. It’s straight Coke in his glass, no Jack. He’s just excited because Bobby is playing tonight. He’s calling it his ‘return tour’, and while I’d been nervous that it was a coping mechanism at losing the deal again, he seems entirely okay with being home.

  Surprisingly, we haven’t heard a peep from Jeremy Marshall, either. I worried that Bobby would hear from his lawyer. Bobby said he didn’t give a shit and would be glad to step in a room again with him to finish the job, but it’s been total radio silence.

  The door opens and a whole party’s worth of people comes in—all the Tannens and Bennetts.

  “Mama Louise!” I exclaim. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here.”

  That might be true, but she hops up on a stool like she’s a regular. “Oh, I get by every now and again, but I had to see Bobby’s return tour. Cooper’s at a friend’s house for the night, and Sophie got a babysitter for Cindy Lou.”

  Bobby dares to come behind the bar, one of the few people Unc allows that privilege, and for one reason only. He catches me around the waist, his arms vice-tight at my middle and his body pressed to my back. His lips lay a soft kiss to my neck as he inhales me. I probably smell like sweat, beer, and lemons, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His stubble scratches at my cheek, but I turn into it, loving the feel of him against me.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he growls, peppering more kisses along my jaw.

  I turn in his arms to kiss him back. It’s quick but meaningful. I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted the ability to kiss this man anytime I want to, especially since I’m the only woman who can do so.

  “Hey yourself.” I smile and watch his eyes wander over my lips as though my smile makes him happy. “Your fans are ready for you again.”

  “I only care about one fan. You ready for me?” His voice has gone deep, dark, and gritty, instantly turning me to mush.

  “Always,” I whisper.

  He groans, and neither of us are talking about his show anymore.

  “We got the table!” Shayanne yells in celebration, as if she’s surprised at the ‘reserved’ sign on their booth.

  “Go and sit down, relax for a bit. I’ll bring a round over.” Though he places one more groan-accompanied kiss to my lips first, Bobby does follow the rest of his family to the booth.

  Before I can pull a pitcher, Mark is at the bar. He grunts at me as a way to catch my attention, and I lift my brows in question.

  “Thank you for the picture of Katelyn,” he grits out, sounding like it pains him to have proper manners.

  “Of course! Happy to do it.”

  “Just to be clear, no one ever sees that picture. Burn the negative.” The order is clipped, allowing for no argument.

  Except . . .

  “Uhm, that’s not really a thing. It’s a digital file,” I explain.

  “Then burn the computer. The whole fucking thing.” He seems to think that’s completely reasonable, and I can’t help but giggle at his all-consuming love of Katelyn, though I keep it inside, which makes my shoulders bounce. The girls were right. You get used to them, and it’s cute after a while.

  “How about this? I’ll delete it, and the print you have will be the only one in existence.”

  He thinks it over, then grunts, appeased. Grabbing a stack of glasses, he helps me deliver the beer to their table.

  Katelyn stands up, Mark sits down in the seat she just vacated, and then he pulls her into his lap. See? Cute.

  This time, they’re not the only ones being extra touchy-feely, though. We’ve gotten so busy, and there are so many of them, that the girls are all perched on their guys’ laps as everyone talks.

  I set the drinks down, pop another kiss to Bobby’s cheek, and get back to work before I put Olivia in the weeds.

  Impossibly, we get even busier. I’m prepping Girly Beers, Unc is pulling drafts, and Olivia is running them around as fast as her legs will carry her.

  But I pause for a preferred customer. “What can I getcha, Sophie?”

  “Four Girly Beers and a water with lime.”

  “Mama Louise keeping it light tonight?” I ask, assuming the drink distribution.

  Sophie blinks, staring at me and not saying anything for a long second. “Uh . . . No, we told her she had to try the Girly Beer.”