Chapter 7

• ASHTON
• Six months ago, in the dead of night, Willow Walsh burst into my room in a flurry. Her face was smothered in an avocado mask, and her brunette hair was twisted up in a pink towel.
• "Tony?" she whispered urgently.
• I was still awake, so when I heard her breezy voice, I quickly switched on my lamp. Willow's eyes fell upon the girl nestled under my covers. Both of us completely naked.
• Willow winced. "I'm sorry. It doesn't matter," she said, ready to leave.
• In a hushed tone, I pleaded, "Wait." I jumped out of bed and hastily put on my boxer briefs. "Willow," I called out as I sprinted towards the door. The girl from the one-night stand drowsily called my name, and I reassured her, "I'll be right back."
• I purposely left the door slightly ajar, hoping to discourage her from taking any pictures of my bedroom.
• Willow was waiting for me in the middle of the staircase. Rodney, stationed at the top, was engrossed in a game on his cellphone. He had been guarding my room that night, granting me a significant amount of personal space without acknowledging my presence.
• "Willow?" I stopped on a stair just above her.
• "Go back," she emphasized. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I just had a sudden..." Willow gestured with both hands, indicating her body and the world around her. It was rare to see her at a loss for words.
• Confusion clouded my face as I shook my head repeatedly. "You had a creature escape from your small intestines?" Okay, I wasn't accustomed to Willow resorting to mime.
• A faint smile tugged at the edges of her avocado mask. "And you still wonder why you're never the first choice for charades."
• Yeah, fair point.
• She took a deep breath. "I had a sudden epiphany," she confessed.
• "About what?" I stood there like a statue. The thought pierced my lungs: she's moving out.
• We had been inseparable since birth, growing up together as kids and teenagers. In Philadelphia, where we lived, there weren't countless actors and celebrities to divert attention away from us. We weren't in Los Angeles or New York. Our families were the only shiny toys in the store window, the only animals in the zoo.
• Growing up in the public eye, we found it hard to connect with many people. So naturally, we formed a tight bond. As adults, there was always an expectation that we should move on somehow, but I never understood why that meant we had to move on from each other.
• I wanted Willow to be a part of my life. She was the one who claimed that the three months we spent apart in college—me at Harvard and her at Princeton—were the ‘darkest, most miserable days’ of her life.
• Glancing briefly at my cracked door, she whispered, "I had an epiphany about my future. You know, those midnight moments of contemplating life."
• I knew exactly what she meant. When we were sixteen, we used to sneak into the Haynes girls' treehouse at night and have deep conversations for hours about our identities and our roles in the world. We discussed who we were on the inside and outside.
• Our attention shifted as two calico kittens crept up the stairs. Willow picked up Warren and let his brother Cooper scamper away. She owned five cats: Warren, Cooper, Snicker, Olivia, and Princess Betty. I didn't mind them or even the strays she occasionally took in. They brought joy to Willow's life.
• "I can't continue doing philanthropy for much longer," she said after a brief pause.
• That statement hit me with a rush of emotions, but I pushed them aside, feeling a heavy emptiness settle within me.
• Since she turned eighteen, Willow had been working as the temporary CFO for J.H.W. Philanthropies. I knew the day would come when she would leave, but I let the thought fade away in my mind.
• She would always be by my side.
• Except forever always comes to an end.
• "It's been almost three years, Tony," she said, trying to kiss Warren without getting avocado on his calico fur. He wriggled out of her arms. "Charity work was just meant to be a temporary stop for me. It's what you're good at. It's what you truly love." She emphasized the word ‘love’ from the depths of her being. "But for me—"
• "You don't have to convince me. I know it's not your passion," I interrupted, wishing it could have been, but I wouldn't selfishly plead for her to stay.
• Because she would, out of loyalty. And I wouldn't trap my best friend.
• Willow lowered her voice to another whisper. "We have been incredibly privileged, and the thought of wasting any moment or opportunity we've been given feels like a perpetual failure."
• "No," I snapped, growing concerned about where this conversation was heading.
• "It's true," she continued, fighting the urge to scratch her face. Her mask seemed to bother her as she kept crinkling her nose. She tilted her chin up and looked directly into my eyes. "I can't sit idly by and be the woman nobody expected me to be."
• My jaw tightened with frustration. The weight of expectations placed on the girls around me was unbearable. The media bombarded them with impossible standards, demanding that they be role models, successful, beautiful, and strong even before they reached puberty. All I wished for them was to find happiness.
• Willow interrupted my thoughts. "Before I begin," she said, "let me clarify that my revelation has nothing to do with math."
• "Thank goodness," I replied.
• As a child, Willow had loved math. She had even joined mathletes as a teenager, and people had speculated about her pursuing a career in the field. But it had never been her true passion. Still, on social media platforms like Twitter and Tumblr, people had constructed an entire future for her based on her fondness for math during her school days.
• It was an overwhelming burden for a young kid to bear.
• The fear of disappointing one's parents is already a difficult challenge. But the fear of letting down fans and the world at large is an impenetrable wall that many of my loved ones have crashed into, myself included.
• Willow took a deep breath, preparing to reveal her epiphany. "I realized tonight," she began, "that I've spent nearly all four years of my 'college experience' without any ambition. It's been lackluster. I need drive." She clenched her fist, as if summoning the spirit of Joan of Arc. "I need a challenge." Her eyes flickered with determination. "My parents thrive on ambition, but I feel empty. I need to find a career path before I graduate. No more aimless drifting. I come from a line of strong individuals."
• There it was.
• The truth that loomed over her.
• Her parents had been born with a clear sense of purpose. Her mother had started her own fashion company at fifteen, and her father had built a multi-billion-dollar empire called Walsh Inc., dealing in paints, magnets, and diamonds, by the age of twenty-four.
• In Willow's mind, she wasn't even the slow-paced tortoise in the race. She hadn't even entered the damn race yet.
• She craved ambition.
• I made a silent promise to myself that I would assist her. Since then, we had been engaging in various activities together, hoping to ignite even the slightest hint of inspiration within her. We tried flight lessons, roller derby, and most recently, cake decorating.
• The sound of bells fills the air as Lennox holds the door open to a pristine bakery in the heart of the city. I nearly reach for the doorknob before him, but he beats me to it.
• "I'm just faster than you," Lennox teases, a hint of laughter in his voice as my scowl deepens.
• "On land, maybe," I retort. "And so much more humble too." I know he only lets me enter the bakery before him because it's empty, having been bought out by Willow for a couple of hours.
• A few weeks ago, Willow's bodyguard retired, and Perth assigned a new one to her—Seth Parker, a twenty-year-old with a promising future. He's the youngest member of the team, and he's earning his stripes by starting on Willow's detail.
• I don't know much about Seth, except that he's a former professional boxer, Brazilian-American, and his older brother is another bodyguard at San Francisco International Airport. Seth's lack of experience doesn't bother me; everyone has to start somewhere. However, I do find it odd that Lennox is training him. From day one, Lennox has disregarded my rules as a bodyguard. He's hardly the ideal role model.
• Seth stands by the bakery's sprinkle rack, strategically positioned near the store window to ensure optimal entrance security.
• And where Seth is, Willow can't be far behind.
• I leave Lennox at the front of the bakery, stealing a quick glance back before continuing inside. I only allow myself one look, not half a million. Lennox rests his knee on a small wooden stool, engaging in a quiet conversation with Seth. He gestures towards the entrances and exits, probably offering him advice or guidance.
• I venture deeper into the bakery, and my face lights up the moment I spot my best friend.
• With her hands confidently placed on her hips, Willow surveys the menu on the artistic chalkboard as if her entire future hinges on this one decision.
• Her long, frizzy brunette hair is adorned with pale blue cat-eye sunglasses. Willow is as unique as her style: mint-green pants, frilly Victorian sleeves peeking out from a zebra-print sweater, mismatched sequined heels, and a watermelon-shaped purse. No one can imitate or replicate this girl.
• She is one-of-a-kind, and I will never let her go. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I love her more than words can express.
• Approaching her swiftly, I catch her gaze, and her own smile mirrors mine, taking shape on her face.
• In a smooth and elegant French, I greet her, "Bonsoir, ma moitié," [Hello, my better half.] as I press a gentle kiss on each of her freckled cheeks.
• Her eyes, a dazzling shade of deep blue, peering from beneath her long lashes, meet mine. "It's just you and me, old chap."
• Simultaneously, our arms wrap around each other. I pull her closer, embracing her in a warm and comforting hug.
• As I hold her, a sense of relaxation washes over me, as if I've finally returned home.
• You're familiar with Willow Walsh, the eldest of seven Walsh siblings. A twenty-two-year-old girl with a fondness for pastels, an affinity for cats, and a welcoming nature that invites you into her life like an old friend. You've watched her Instagram videos of failed attempts at French toast, her excitement over trying on a new pair of pants, and her passionate readings of classic literature.
• You're the one who encourages her to pursue a career as a math professor and advocate for women in STEM. You're the one who probes into her love life, curious to know if her relationships are serious.
• She's my best friend, my other half. We were born just a month apart, but she possesses a brilliance that far surpasses mine. Loyalty flows through her veins like an innate quality. She would give up every moment of her day for the people she cares about.
• But let me make one thing clear: If you dare to harm her, I won't hesitate to break your kneecaps and make you pay dearly. Consider yourself warned.