Willow’s eyes mist up. “And still no leads on who did it?”
My brother had been mugged. He’d also been stabbed, possibly for fighting and refusing to give up his wallet. The cops aren’t really sure, but the case is cold and unsolved. Not having justice meted out to his killer is another source of pain.
I shake my head. “It appears to be a random incident, a classic mugging gone wrong. His wallet and watch were missing. His shirt was ripped, so they think there was a struggle. No witnesses. No other leads.”
“Fuck,” she mutters as she stares glumly into her wineglass before she focuses back on me. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m dealing,” I assure her. “And Dax has been great by letting me stay here.”
“Yeah,” she drawls. “Not sure I saw that one coming. I mean… Dax isn’t the most dependable—”
“But he is,” I rush to defend him.
Chuckling, Willow holds her hands up. “Let me finish there, sassy pants. I merely meant he’s not the first person to notice there’s a problem. He’s just so damn busy and always traveling. But once he does see something, he’s the first to act.”
“He caught me at a low point in New York,” I admit, thinking about how I’d dissolved into tears in his arms when he sort of strong-armed me into telling him all my woes. “And you’re right… he definitely springs into action. He didn’t give me much of a choice but to come here with him.”
“He’s a caveman,” Willow commiserates. “But I think it’s good for you. You shouldn’t be alone, and there’s nothing our family wouldn’t do for you. Especially Dax.”
Including marriage, I think, but then decide to change the subject. “What about you? I can’t even keep track of your travels anymore.”
Willow’s eyes light up, a clear indication she’s still madly in love with her job. “I’m getting ready to head to Kosovo. It’s been twenty years since the war, and I got a contract to take photos of some of the survivors with updates on what they’re doing now. The only downside is the reporter assigned is a real douche. Thinks he knows everything and will try to control my shots, but still… it’s going to be an epic news piece.”
“Wow,” is all I can say because I’m not even sure where Kosovo is or what really happened there. I give a small shake of my head in awe. “You’re such an adventurer. Don’t you ever get nervous about all the places you travel to, not to mention the ones that are actual war zones?”
“Not really,” Willow says with a shrug. “I mean… if I think about it too much, then I’m sure I’d have some moments, but I just try to focus on the job and trust the people around me to keep me safe.”
Tables are turned again as we try to get updated. Willow asks, “Are you still dating that guy—what was his name—Pete? Pablo?”
“Paul,” I supply with a laugh. “And no. That fizzled.”
I turn the tables away from my love life, since digging deeper could potentially reveal I’m a married woman now. “What about you? Are you dating?”
“Not sure what I do is called dating, but I had an extended booty call relationship with another photographer going for a while. Biggest dick I’ve ever seen. Like to the point of being uncomfortable at first, but then he had a mouth that would get me loosened up and it was the best dick I’d ever had—”
My mouth drops wide open, and I stare at Willow in abject fascination. We’ve never talked sex before. Maybe it’s because she felt I was too young, but now we’re in penis size and oral sex territory, and it’s all very new to me.
Stopping midsentence, she blushes. “I’m sorry… was that too much information?”
I shake my head hard and fast, wanting to hear more.
For comparison purposes, that is.
Grinning, Willow leans forward. “I’m talking easily nine inches. I mean… it was actually frightening the first time I saw it, but then he assured me he knew how to use it. Well… he did, and really… it’s sad. Because he was so boring and utterly dull, except in bed. I’m not sure I can keep that going. I need my brain stimulated, too, you know?”
I really don’t know. I’m still stuck on exactly how large a nine-inch penis is while wondering how big Dax’s is, because it seemed pretty monstrous to me. My hands involuntarily separate as I measure an approximate distance that might be nine inches. Willow laughs as she watches me.
“Nine inches, huh?” I say in amazement as I study the distance between my palms.
“It doesn’t all fit in,” she clarifies.
“Wow,” I say in amazement. “You really are an adventurer.”
The doorbell rings, and I jump up to grab the pizza. When I return to the kitchen, Willow has refilled our wineglasses and is searching around for plates.