Page 83 of Just The Way You Aren't

She’s smiling as we make our way carefully down her building's stairs, her hand lightly gripping my arm for balance. Once we're settled in my car and pulling into traffic, she lets out a long breath.

"Everything okay?" I ask, reaching over to take her hand.

"Just thinking about all the things that could go wrong tonight." She laughs shakily. "We had roughly seventeen disasters today alone."

"Tell me about them." I genuinely want to know, and listening to her might calm her nerves.

As she recounts the day's chaos—damaged centerpieces, permit issues, a last-minute client speaker change—I'm struck again by how she turns disasters into solutions. She doesn't even realize how remarkable that is.

"You're incredible, you know that?" I tell her when she finishes. "Most people would have given up."

"I had some excellent help." She squeezes my hand. "Abby's pet-sitting tonight, by the way. I figured I might be out late."

"Good thinking." I try not to read too much into that statement but hope flares in my chest anyway.

"How's your mom doing?" Willow asks, changing the subject. "You haven’t mentioned her since our visit to her house last week."

The question catches me off guard, especially considering this is Willow’s night. Yet here she is thinking about my mother when most people politely ignore her condition. Normally, I’m grateful for that avoidance, but having Willow privy to the problem is a comfort in some ways. There’s no need to pretend with her. No need to put up the mask I’m so used to wearing in public.

"She's... it's progressing." I keep my eyes on the road. "She called me Carter three times this week."

"I'm sorry." Her thumb strokes over my knuckles. "That must be so hard."

"Dr. Morrison, her specialist, thinks we need to consider full-time care soon. She's becoming a danger to herself. Last week she tried to cook and forgot she'd turned on the stove."

"Oh, Damien." Willow's voice is soft with understanding. "Have you and your sister looked into facilities?"

"I've been putting it off." The admission feels like failure. "Keep thinking if I hire more help, adjust her medications, maybe..."

"That maybe she'll get better?" Willow finishes gently. "I understand how you’re feeling. But sometimes the kindest thing is accepting the new reality."

I glance at her, this woman who deals with aging and loss every day. "How do you do it? Watch people you care about decline?"

"By focusing on what they can still do, not what they've lost." She shifts to face me better. "Your mother may not remember your father's death, but she remembers loving him. That's not nothing."

"I never thought of it that way."

"I know some excellent facilities, if you want recommendations. Places that understand memory care, that treat residents with dignity." She pauses. "I could go with you to visit them, if you'd like."

The offer hits me harder than it should. In my world, people offer business connections or investment opportunities. They don't offer to hold your hand through heartbreak.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course I would." She sounds surprised I'd even question it. "That's what I’m good at, Damien. Really, I’m happy to help in any way if I can. I mean, after all, we’re… friends."

Friends. The word settles like a weight in my chest, heavier than it should be. I keep my expression neutral, focusing on the traffic ahead while my mind races. Is that what we are to her? Is that all she wants us to be after tonight?

She's using that word so deliberately, so carefully. Like she's already drawing lines, creating distance before our arrangement officially ends. The thought makes something twist painfully in my chest.

"Thank you," I manage, squeezing her hand gently. "Thatmeans a lot. And it helps, being able to talk about it with someone who understands."

"Always," she says softly. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you."

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles as I navigate the final turn toward The Plaza. "I know," I murmur against her skin. "Same goes for you."

Willow is more than a friend to me. She's swiftly become something much deeper than that. She’s… everything. But if she's already positioning us as friends, already pulling back before this night is even over, maybe I've been misreading all the signs. Maybe what feels like forever to me is just temporary to her.

The thought sits heavy in my chest as the bright lights of The Plaza come into view. Whatever happens after tonight, whatever Willow wants us to be, I'll take it. Even if being her friend is all she'll allow, it's better than losing her completely.

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