MARRIED TO MY EX FATHER IN LAW

WILLOW

Willow Hart steps out of the taxi in front of Ocean's mansion and takes a moment to just look at it.

She hasn't been here in years. Five years, to be exact. Five years since she walked away from the best thing that ever happened to her because she was too scared to handle the reality of loving a man like Ocean Moretti.

The mansion looks the same. Imposing. Beautiful. Exactly the kind of place Ocean would own.

She pays the driver and stands on the sidewalk with her luggage, gathering her courage. She flew in from Paris this morning after hearing the news from an old mutual acquaintance. Ocean got married.

Ocean. Married.

She couldn't believe it at first. Ocean swore after his wife died that he'd never marry again. Said he was done with that part of his life. That was one of the things that made their relationship work, actually. Willow wasn't looking for marriage either. Just companionship. Partnership.

Until she realized she wanted more and got scared and ran.

But now he's married. To someone. And Willow needs to know who. Needs to see with her own eyes what kind of woman finally got Ocean Moretti to change his mind about marriage.

She walks up to the front door. Rings the bell.

A young woman answers. One of the household staff, probably. She's pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Ocean. Willow Hart. He'll know who I am." The woman looks uncertain. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But tell him I'm here. He'll see me."

The woman hesitates, then nods. "Wait here, please."

She closes the door, leaving Willow standing on the front step like some kind of salesperson. Willow tries not to feel insulted. The staff doesn't know who she is. Doesn't know that she used to live in this house. Used to share Ocean's bed. Used to be the woman he turned to when he needed someone.

The door opens again. This time it's Ocean himself. And god, he still takes her breath away.

He's wearing dark jeans and a black sweater. His salt-and-pepper hair is slightly messy like he's been running his hands through it. Those gray eyes are as sharp and intense as ever. He looks older than when she last saw him, but somehow even more attractive. More distinguished.

"Willow." His voice gives nothing away. "This is a surprise."

"Hello, Ocean. It's been a long time."

"Five years."

"You're counting."

"I'm aware of time passing. That's different from counting." He doesn't invite her in. Just stands there in the doorway looking at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you got married. I wanted to congratulate you in person."

Something flickers across his face. "You flew from Paris to congratulate me?"

"I was planning to visit London anyway. The marriage news just made it more interesting." She smiles. The smile that used to make him smile back. "Can I come in? Or are you going to make me stand on your doorstep like a stranger?"

He considers for a moment. Then steps aside. "Come in."

She walks past him into the foyer. Everything is so familiar it hurts. The marble floors. The artwork on the walls. The grand staircase leading upstairs.

She used to belong here.

"Let's talk in my office," Ocean says, leading the way.

His office looks the same too. Dark wood. Leather furniture. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The massive desk where she used to sit on the edge while they talked late into the night.

"Drink?" he offers.

"Please. Whiskey if you have it."

He pours two glasses. Hands her one. They stand there on opposite sides of the desk like negotiators instead of former lovers.

"So," Willow says. "Marriage. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Things change."

"Apparently. Tell me about her. Your wife."

"Why?"

"Curiosity. I think I'm entitled to that much, don't you? After everything we were to each other."

Ocean takes a sip of his whiskey. "Her name is Lola. She's twenty-three. We got married three months ago."

Twenty-three. Willow tries not to react to that number but she knows her face must show something because Ocean's expression hardens slightly.

"Twenty-three," she repeats. "That's quite an age gap."

"Twenty-six years."

"And you married her anyway."

"I did."

"Why?"

"That's personal."

"Ocean, I'm not here to judge. I'm genuinely asking. You swore you'd never marry again. What changed?"

He's quiet for a long moment. Then he says, "She needed protection. Marriage was the best way to provide it."

"So it's not a love match."

"I didn't say that."

Willow feels a sharp twist in her chest. Not a love match but he didn't say it wasn't. Which means there are feelings involved. On his side. Maybe on both sides.

"Where is she? I'd love to meet her."

"She's resting. It's been a difficult few months."

"I can imagine. Marrying Ocean Moretti would be difficult for anyone. Especially someone so young." Willow sits down in one of the leather chairs without being invited. "Is she handling it well? The life, I mean. Your world isn't easy for outsiders."

"She's handling it fine."

"Good. That's good." Willow crosses her legs. Studies him. "You look tired, Ocean. Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"Willow." His tone is patient but firm. "Why are you really here?"

She could lie. Could keep up the pretense of just passing through London and wanting to say hello.

But Ocean always saw through her lies. One of the things she both loved and hated about him.

"I made a mistake," she says quietly. "Leaving you. I've regretted it every day for five years."

"And now I'm married."

"To a girl barely out of college who you married for protection. That's not the same as what we had."

"What we had ended five years ago when you left without a word."

"I was scared. The violence, the danger, the constant threat. I couldn't handle it. But I should have talked to you. Should have tried harder. Instead I ran." She leans forward. "I'm not running anymore, Ocean. I'm here. And I'm willing to try again if you are."

Ocean sets his glass down carefully. "I'm married."

"You said it yourself. It's for her protection. That doesn't mean you love her."

"I didn't say I don't love her either."

That stops Willow cold. "Do you? Love her?"

Ocean doesn't answer. Which is an answer in itself.

"Even if you do," Willow presses, "she's so young. She doesn't understand your world. She can't give you what I can. Partnership. Understanding. Someone who knows who you are and loves you anyway."

"Willow, I appreciate you coming here. I do. But whatever we had is in the past. I'm not interested in revisiting it."

"Because of her."

"Because it's over. It's been over for five years."

Willow stands up. Walks around the desk. Gets close enough to Ocean that she can smell his cologne. The same one he's always worn.

"Tell me you don't feel anything," she says softly. "Tell me looking at me does nothing for you. Tell me you've completely moved on. If you can honestly say that, I'll leave right now and never bother you again."

Ocean looks at her. And for a moment, just a moment, she sees something in his eyes. Memory maybe. Or nostalgia.

Then it's gone.

"I don't feel anything," he says. "I've moved on. You should too."

It hurts more than she expected it to. More than it has any right to after five years.

"I see." She steps back. Composes herself. "Well. I guess that's that then."

"I'm sorry, Willow. I really am. But this is how it has to be."

She nods. Starts to walk toward the door. Then turns back.

"Can I at least meet her? Your wife? Before I go?"

Ocean hesitates. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please. I promise I'll be civil. I just want to see what kind of woman captured Ocean Moretti's heart."

Before Ocean can answer, there's movement in the doorway.

A young woman is standing there. Small, delicate features, long dark hair, big doe eyes that are currently filled with uncertainty. She's wearing jeans and an oversized sweater. She looks like she could be a college student.

This is Lola.

Ocean's wife.

And Willow feels jealousy hit her like a physical blow.

Because even though this girl is young and clearly inexperienced and probably doesn't belong in Ocean's world at all, the way Ocean looks at her in this moment tells Willow everything she needs to know.

He loves her.

Really, truly loves her.

"I'm sorry," Lola says quietly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just looking for Hannah."

"Hannah's in the kitchen," Ocean says. His voice is different when he talks to her. Softer. Gentler.

Lola nods. Starts to leave.

"Lola, wait." Ocean gestures to Willow. "This is Willow Hart. An old friend. Willow, this is my wife, Lola."

"It's nice to meet you," Lola says politely. But Willow can see the wariness in her eyes. The girl isn't stupid.

"Nice to meet you too. Ocean was just telling me about you."

"Oh. Okay." Lola looks at Ocean. Something passes between them. Some kind of silent communication. "I should go. Let you two talk."

"You don't have to leave," Ocean says.

"It's fine. Really." She gives them both a small smile and disappears down the hallway.

Willow watches her go. Then turns back to Ocean.

"She's lovely."

"Yes. She is."

"And you're in love with her."

Ocean doesn't deny it. "I am."

"Does she know?"

"That's between me and my wife."

"Of course." Willow picks up her purse. "I should go. I've taken up enough of your time."

Ocean walks her to the front door. They stand there for a moment in uncomfortable silence.

"For what it's worth," Willow says, "I hope you're happy. I really do."

"Thank you."

"And Ocean? If it doesn't work out with her... I'm staying at the Savoy for the next week. Room 412."

"Willow—"

"Just in case." She leans up and kisses his cheek. "Goodbye, Ocean."

"Goodbye."

She walks out to the waiting taxi. Doesn't look back.

Inside the mansion, Ocean stands in the foyer, watching through the window as the taxi drives away.

Then he turns and goes to find Lola.

She's in the kitchen with Hannah, but she's not really participating in the conversation. Just staring at her tea.

"Lola."

She looks up. "Is your friend gone?"

"She's not my friend. She's my ex."

"Oh." Lola looks back down at her tea. "She's beautiful."

"So are you."

"She's sophisticated. Age-appropriate. Probably understands your world much better than I ever will."

Ocean walks over to her. Tilts her chin up so she has to look at him.

"I don't want her, Lola. I want—" He stops himself. Because he can't finish that sentence. Not yet. Not when there's still so much distance between them.

"You want what?" she asks softly.

But he just shakes his head. Steps back.

"Nothing. Never mind."

And the distance between them feels wider than ever.