She carried Louie’s Spider-Man cake over to the stairs. Her body was still humming with memories of all the sexy things she and Zane had done earlier while the cake was baking. “Tell Mommy I’ll put the cake in the kitchen.”
Louie bolted toward his bedroom, and Bridgette’s voice sailed down the stairs. “Mommy’s right here.”
Her sister appeared at the top of the stairs, looking cute in a pair of white capris and a peach tank top. Her strained smile cut straight through Willow.
“Where’s your new fiancé?”
“He should be here soon. He had to pick something up. Do you have time to talk?” She inhaled a lungful of guilt. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call last night, but it was a hard night.”
Louie collided with Bridgette’s legs in full Spider-Man garb. “My Spider-Man cake!”
Bridgette took his hand, slowing his little legs down as he descended the stairs. A pang of sadness nipped at Willow. She remembered what Bridgette had been like before she’d lost the love of her life. She could have been the poster child for rebellious, wild risk takers. At nineteen she’d gone against their parents’ wishes and quit college to run away and get married to a drummer. Six months later she was pregnant, and almost a year after that one tragic car accident forever changed her and Louie’s lives. The old Bridgette would have let Louie sprint down the stairs or slide down the banister. Willow adored Bridgette, but she missed the part of her that she had buried alongside her husband.
Willow crouched for Louie to see the cake. She could only see his eyes through the Spider-Man mask, but they were as wide as hard-boiled eggs.
“Wow! Can I have a piece?”
“When Mommy says it’s time.”
“What do you say?” Bridgette reminded him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Auntie Willow!”
Willow pointed to her cheek. “How about some sugar, sweetie pop?”
He gave her a loud, smacking kiss and took off running toward the playroom. Louie was the epitome of a rainbow-layered birthday cake, full of sweet happiness inside and out.
“Now that’s more like it.” Willow rose to her feet. “Kitchen?”
Bridgette followed her in.
Willow glanced out the glass doors to the yard, which was decked out with all things Spider-Man, from the tablecloth to the pi?ata hanging from the big oak tree. Helium balloons were tied to the backs of all the chairs around a long table.
“Want a drink?” Bridgette asked.
“Only if it’s a stiff one.” She set the cake on the counter.
Bridgette arched a finely manicured brow. “Trouble in paradise?”
“It’s not like that.” Willow leaned on the counter, eyeing the cake. Zane had helped her frost it, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. Can you imagine if we really had the ability to create webs like Spider-Man? I could tangle you up and never let you go. His tease had led to more sexy talk about being tied up, which had led to messy, frosting-covered kisses—and that was after they’d already made love on every possible surface.
“From the look on your face, I’d guess you meant something else by a hard night.”
Willow laughed and felt her cheeks heat up.
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. But Zane Walker?” Bridgette whispered his name. “I’m still getting over the shock of him being your first.”
“I told you three years ago.” She’d spilled her secret after too much wine, when Zane had texted twice to razz her about the Jets losing, since he was a Giants fan, followed by, Come see me. I’ll show you how a real baller plays.
“It was very traumatic for me,” Bridgette teased. “I mean, he used to spend the night at our house all the time. Don’t you remember lying in the hallway spying on him and Ben when we were like seven and eight? After you told me, I started to imagine all sorts of crazy things about you two and wondering if I missed hundreds of secret make-out sessions.”
“I assure you, you did not.” Much to her chagrin, of course. She’d fantasized about exactly that time and time again when she was a teenager.
“Not even when you were tutoring him in math?”
“Not even then.”
Bridgette wrinkled her brow, eyeing Willow’s ring. “So you go away to cater an event and come back engaged.” She pulled Willow’s hand closer, inspecting the ring. “That’s gorgeous.”
“It’s gaudy and awful,” she corrected her.
“Well, it’s not you, but I think it’s stunning. How could I not have noticed you’ve been seeing him? Why would you keep that from me?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Willow worried over breaking her promise to Zane, but while it was hard to lie to her family, it was impossible to lie to Bridgette.
“What do you think? No one else knows he popped your cherry,” she teased.
“The engagement isn’t real, but he wants it to be.”
“Holy shit,” Bridgette whispered. “You’re lying to Mom and Dad? Why?” She opened a cabinet and dug around, withdrawing a bottle of wine.
Willow reached for wineglasses.
“Mugs,” Bridgette said. “Covert operation with the little one around.”
Two mugs of wine later, Willow had told her the whole sordid story. “And now I’m in this state of limbo. And you can’t tell anyone this is fake.”
“This is a lot to process.” Bridgette twirled a lock of hair around her finger, a nervous habit she’d had for as long as Willow could remember. “You never knew you were his first?”
Willow shook her head. “I told you how he was that night. He was so in control. Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. I never would have guessed that he’d never done it before. And when we were together last night? One epic orgasm after another, like my body has been saving it all up for him. No one—absolutely no one—has ever made me feel like I do when we’re together. And it’s more than just the sex, you know? I can be myself with Zane. Good, bad, whatever. And the way he looks at me . . .” She shivered and held her arm up for Bridgette to see. “Goose bumps, Bridge. Goose bumps just from thinking about him.”
“That’s how it was for me and Jerry. And just for the record, I don’t want to hear about epic orgasms. I’m happy for you, but my girl hasn’t been touched since Jerry died, and she’s a little jealous.”
They both laughed. “I’m sorry. But . . . oh my God. I can’t lie. It’s magical. We’re combustible. Just like it was all those years ago, only different. Better. Because now we’re adults, and . . .” She paused, still unable to believe what she was about to say was the truth and not a silly fantasy. “This feels real, and he wants it to be. But I’m scared shitless of getting hurt again.”
“You were young, and you made up all those stupid rules.”
“I told you about the rules?” She must have had way too much wine that night, because she didn’t recall sharing those details with her sister.
“Let’s see. No feelings, no talking about it after the fact, no looking at each other differently, no blackmailing, and he was to let you walk home alone. For the record,” Bridgette said, “I’m still impressed that you did that and no one found out. But I can’t help wondering. Do you ever wish you hadn’t set up those rules?”