Page 5 of Imperfect Arrangement
A PERSONAL KIND OF THERAPY
WILLOW
“Hey, DJ, can I get two tickets?” I knock lightly on the counter of Cherrywood’s beloved Ferris wheel.
“Uh-oh. What happened now?” Decent Joe pops out from the ticket booth, giving me that knowing look. His gray hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s wearing his signature flannel shirt with those loose Wranglers he swears by. This guy is the entire Ferris wheel operation—engineer, operator, mechanic, ticket seller…probably even the unofficial amusement-park therapist.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, trying to sound casual. But who am I kidding? Can anyone actuallyhandleRaymond Teager?
DJ crouches to scratch Captain Lick, my family’s overly enthusiastic geriatric Maltipoo, who looks about as happy as a dog at a bone buffet. “I heard someone was spotted at La Bella Vita the other day. Private corner seating and all.”
God! I’d thought going to that horrendously expensive upscale restaurant could keep a lid on my meeting with Raymond, but this town’s gossip mill could give the national news a run for its money.
“Who told you that?” I ask, already knowing that in Cherrywood, sources are irrelevant.
“Does it matter?” He raises a brow. “But whoever it was, they said you and that ‘rich dude’ looked pretty cozy.”
“Rich dude? Try arrogance in a suit.” I snort. “Please do me a favor and tell the town to rein in their imagination. That ‘rich dude’ and I were at a business meeting.”
DJ slumps, giving an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, like he had already heard wedding bells. And it’s not just him—half the people in this town would marry off every eligible bachelor and bachelorette here if they could.
I roll my eyes so hard they practically hit the back of my skull.Why do you even care, Wills?
The only association I have with the wordweddingis that my name starts with the same letter. Isn’t it freaking ironic that I want to open a wedding estate?
But I’ve learned—no, I’ve been smacked in the face by the lesson life insists on teaching me over and over again: the moment you depend on someone else for anything,especiallylove, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.
I know not everyone’s life is like mine. I’ve seen happy couples, the kind who make you believe in the fairy tales you once thought were a joke. But me? I’m either broken or cursed. Maybe both. Either way, some people are built to figure it out on their own, and I’ve accepted my fate.
“How’s everyone at home these days?” Decent Joe asks, trying to sound casual.
Even in this terrible mood, I can’t help the smile creeping onto my face. “Everyone? Or a certain someone in particular?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He keeps his head down, but I swear the tips of his ears turn bright red.
There’s no way Joe’s parents named himDecentJoe. If they did, they should’ve won an award for setting him up for schoolyard taunting. Odds are, the town stuck that label on him, but he’s lived up to it every day since.
“Even though you didn’t ask,” I say with a teasing edge, “Mom’s doing well. In fact, she has a date tonight.”
His head snaps up, and the shock on his face is priceless, like I just announced the world’s most terrifying horror plot. “Steph has a date? With someone…from here?” His brow furrows as if he’s trying to recall every single guy in town. “No, it can’t be anyone from here.”
Of course not.
Everyone in Cherrywood knows or has at least heard about the way he feels for my mom, his high school crush. Joe’s heart was set on her until she chose someone new in town. That one decision changed everything for us. Maybe he regrets not making a move sooner, but the regret Mom carries every day for putting us both through that hell is much heavier.
“Who’s the guy, Willow? Is he a guest at Whispering Willow?” Panic fills Joe’s eyes. He’s afraid of losing someone he’s quietly cared about for years.
It tugs at something inside me, a complicated knot of confusing emotions. How can someone care so deeply for so long without ever saying it out loud? Isn’t that signing yourself up for inevitable heartache?
I can’t decide if it’s admirable or just plain sad. People like DJ, with their eternal optimism about love, seem to be walking proof that romance movies might not be total fiction. Maybe those grand gestures and lifelong crushes are real for a lucky few.
But whatever the case may be, one thing I know for sure is that men like DJ are from a different generation, and lately, there are only sharks and snakes showing up in my life. Raymond Teager is prime exhibit A, and my distant cousin, Gio, a close second.
Ever since Gio showed up with Gramps’s unknown will, my life has been one long battle.
Instead of expanding Whispering Willow into the dream wedding estate I’ve been planning since forever, I’m spending every ounce of energy I have defending what should be mine.
DJ pats my arm, pulling me back. “You don’t like this guy? Is he not good for Steph?”
