Willow In the weeks that follow, I barely see Reid except when I sit in on the board meetings, and even then, Reid and I clash. Seth has been helping me with a few things regarding the crucial case as well. The Simons case is finally going to court, and everyone is on edge even though we have a good case. Michael called for a final meeting with everyone, including Mel and me, on the morning of the opening arguments. The Sawyer PA was Seth’s sister, and she joined us as well. Michael clears his throat when we all file into the boardroom. “Good morning, everyone. Today is the day; everything we have put into this case will bear its fruits from today forward. I have faith in all that you have done, and I want to say thank you to all of you and let’s get these bastards.” He says, and applause follows. Michael indeed was a leader; we all look to him when it comes to cases like this. When we all file out, Michael asks Reid and me to stay be

Willow What exactly did I see? Reid and that woman seemed pretty cosy in the restaurant; were they together? If so, why did he need me as a date for his brother’s wedding? God, this is bothering me so much. I barely got any sleep last night because of this, and now I’m entering our offices, feeling dead. My hopes that today wouldn’t be as eventful as yesterday were bashed when I saw what was on my desk. A bouquet of pink asiflorum lilies. I stand there, staring at the flowers as if in a daze and slowly walk towards it as I spy an envelope. Who could have sent these and knew they were my favourite flowers? As I think these words, I groan aloud and pick up the envelope, knowing who sent them before even seeing the name. I hear a whistle behind me, “Wow, these are beautiful! Who sent them? Came the voice of Mel as she walked up to me. “You don’t want to know,” I say while shaking my head and opening the envelope to see a

Reid I watch Willow down another glass of champagne and grab her wrist. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss Creed,” I tell her, but she snatches her wrist back and puts a finger to her lips. “Shhh, Missster bossyyy,” she says through slurs and hiccups. Sighing, I pulled her towards the exit, knowing she would soon be making a fool of herself in front of very important people. “Where are you - Where are you taking me?” She asks, looking around, but I decide to remain silent because I knew she would only argue with me. Even in a drunken state, Willow is unfailingly argumentative; if not more so. How did I not notice that she had been drinking too much since her editor put his slimy hands all over her? Clearly, this was hitting her harder than she had let on, and the mere thought of it pissed me off. Even though we were in a fake relationship, I should have defended her honour on that stage. Was I that much of an asshole? I

Willow When I put down my coat and bag, I remove my cell phone and dread looking at it; Mel would have blown up my message box by now. But with a sigh, I unlock my phone and prepare myself: 17 Messages and 5 Phone Calls. “Fuck sakes, Mel,” I say mumble as I walk to my room to strip last night’s clothes off. When I scroll, I realise that it wasn’t all from Mel: Matthew Greene commented on his dress that I wore to my literal debut, and Michael sent me a congratulatory message along with an ominous “Let’s talk on Monday,” Huh? The rest were from my best friend, of course. “Brunch tomorrow, the usual?” I look over at Bootsie lounging on my bed, so much for her missing me; the bitch barely lifted her head when she saw me. I sent her a text, to which she responded with a heart and thumbs up. I bet she’s trying really hard to control her curiosity and is probably pissed off at me for not contacting her sooner. Oh, well, it wasn’t lik

Willow Reid hasn’t started his car yet, so we remain sitting in silence. I know what was running through his head because I was thinking the same: he was about to kiss me, and I would have let him. I’m pretty sure this changed things between us as we were bordering on the line we were not allowed to cross. Should I wait for him to speak first? Then he sighs and starts the car. “I was wondering,” he begins when turning into the winding road leading away from his parent’s place. “If your parents abandoned you in a park and you grew up in an orphanage, who named you?” I look over at him and chuckle, so that’s what he’s been thinking about? “It’s a stupid story. The park bench on where they found me was next to a willow tree. The plaque on the bench said that a Creed family from New England donated it.” I say, recounting what the orphanage matron had told me. He turns his head and smiles at me, “That’s not a stupid story a