The Fiance Dilemma (The Long Game #2)

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I snorted at my phone before typing a response.

JOSIE: It’s the leg thing for me.

MATTHEW: I wanted to show you the shoes.

JOSIE: Oh. I just thought you wanted to brag about your foot pop.

MATTHEW: You asked me what I was wearing tonight.

JOSIE: And I love the effort and enthusiasm in your answer.

I also loved how those dark olive-green dress pants looked on him. And the cream-colored long-sleeved polo shirt. And oh, the glasses. I didn’t dare ask him if he’d wear them tonight, but I wanted him to. I wanted to demand he would. My teeth caught my lip. I hit play again.

Matthew materialized on my screen, walking backward, away from the phone. His hands slipped into his pockets, gaze cast down. He spun, showcasing his side. Little pause. Then his back. A strange breath left me at the sight of those shoulders in that old-school-looking shirt. My fingers itched to pause and take a screenshot just so I could save that in my gallery, but my favorite part was coming. The one-, two-, three-second pause and… Foot pop.

Ugh.

I hadn’t been expecting a fit-check video when I asked what he was wearing tonight, but I wasn’t going to complain. Maybe I’d even demand one from him every day from this point on.

Fingers snapped right in front of my face, making me flinch.

“If you don’t stop giggling at that screen, I’m going to regurgitate my A.B. and I’m not in the mood to wait for you to make a new one. It takes you the longest time.”

I blinked at Bobbi. Specifically, the dark sunglasses she was wearing indoors. “What in the world is an A.B. ?”

She raised the cup in front of her and gave it a quick shake, at which I frowned. “Christ, Josephine. Do you spend any time on the internet? Like at all?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you were referring to your coffee, I was calling that a Sharkie.”

“Aw,” Bobbi deadpanned. “You named a drink after me. I’d be moved if this was some Hallmark movie where the coffee shop owner teaches the badass boss bitch city lady—with amazing fashion sense—how to open her heart so she can start to live, laugh, love her life. But luckily, this is real life. And that’s not on our meeting minutes.”

It was easy to let that slide and not take offense, frankly. I felt like I’d lived exactly through that with Adalyn. “I’m not the Hallmark coffee shop owner you paint me to be.” I smiled at her. “You know the mayor of town has power, right? I could make your job much harder if you cross me.”

Bobbi studied me. “Wow, Blondie must have banged the shit out of you this week.”

My jaw fell to the floor. Then I scoffed. “He did not.” Bobbi’s brows arched. “He just banged me the appropriate, normal amount engaged couples bang.”

Her face turned into a grimace. And I… well, I laughed, even if still flushed a little. If Matthew had heard me saying that he would—

“Yikes,” she said, feigning to shiver. “Noted. I won’t bring that up again if you’re going to get all starry-eyed. I really can’t stomach more of that. Can we move on with our meeting?”

I tipped my chin up. “This is not a meeting. You ambushed me at work and demanded I tick boxes on some checklist.”

“I’ll write that in the minutes,” she deadpanned.

“I have more suggestions if you’re interested.” I snatched the rag from my apron’s pocket and folded it meticulously. “Like… Annoying wedding planner had father of the bride invite county to wedding. Without telling her. Or annoying wedding planner demands coffee is prepared in under two minutes, claiming life-or-death situation. Or annoying wedding planner drives bride insane while wearing sunglasses indoors.”

Bobbi gasped. “I’m not just a wedding planner.”

“If you say so.”

She brought her sunglasses down her nose. Dark eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t like this newfound surge of… defiance.”

Defiance. The word now reminded me of Matthew too.

“God,” Bobbi groaned. “People in love are too self-centered. I’m trying to have breakfast here, besides a meeting. Can you stop looking like that and focus?”

“Coffee is not a meal.” I rolled my eyes at her, but a part of my brain lingered on a few specific words. “And I don’t know if I can focus, honestly. I’m not happy about how things were handled. This is… my wedding. Not yours to announce on a whim.”

“Listen,” she said. And I couldn’t tell exactly what it was about Bobbi, but I could tell something had just changed. “I’m sorry. I—” Her lips pursed. “Don’t look so shocked. I really am sorry. But I had to act fast because I knew they were dropping something bad that night, all right. I have contacts at Page Nine. I was tipped off about that editor’s submission. I knew it’d be a video, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Every wedding has a videographer. And you had four of those, so that makes four potential threats hanging over our heads.”

“So you assumed the video had to be of me?”

“It couldn’t be of Andrew. I have all of that under lock and key. You’re my wild card, Josephine. You’ve always been. But you know that, and the reason why, so don’t make me explain again why those two internet drama queens are so hyperfixated on you.”

I did know why. Clout. Gossip. Drama. Entertainment. More to add to the Underwood saga. Bored people needing something to listen to so they wouldn’t be alone with their own thoughts. It was funny, I supposed, that this had started as a problem for Andrew’s image, and now, it seemed, was only a threat to mine. “It’s three videographers, by the way,” I said. “Duncan and I terminated our relationship weeks before the date we were supposed to get married.”

“I know,” Bobbi admitted. And at this point I wasn’t even surprised by her knowing this. Her head tilted. “And I am sorry for blindsiding you, for what it’s worth. Your little meltdown set us back almost a week.”

A sigh escaped me. “Can you fix it, though? Can you fix any of this? Like you said you would?”

“I am Bobbi Shark, aren’t I?” She pushed the iPad closer to me. “I had them take the video down in less than a day. A good way to continue that is by letting me really handle things now. I am your”—she shivered theatrically—“wedding planner, after all. So. Checklist?”

My gaze fell on the device, but I didn’t reach out for it. Not yet. “On one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“No wedding dress,” I said, to which she frowned. “I’ll handle that.”

I couldn’t stomach looking at gowns. Not for this. Not when it felt like I was going to add a fifth memory to my already large collection. Not after I opened up like that to Matthew and showed him such a crucial part of who I was that no one else knew. And not when that’d mean I’d always have a reminder of something meant to break, hanging off a rack.

We don’t get married but stay friends.

“I’m in charge of that,” I finished. “It’s something I want to pay for myself. And you can stop looking at me like I’d show up to my own wedding wearing a kitchen rag. I have experience with gowns, have I not? It’ll be simple but elegant. I just don’t need anyone to make a fuss. I’m tired of fusses at this point. And Andrew is already paying for… everything.”

Bobbi considered my request for a long moment, then she said, “Works for me.”

“Oh,” I quipped. “And stop calling Grandpa Moe if I don’t answer the phone. He’s a little overwhelmed.”

She shot me a glance. “Fine.”

“Oh. And be nice to Robbie.”

“I don’t do nice,” she deadpanned. “Certainly not to a man who wears a padded vest to a party. With pockets. That he stuffs with things.”

“But—”

“I’ll be reasonably agreeable.” She gave a new push to the iPad. “Now check the list. I want you to mark your preferences on basic stuff so I can get an idea of what to do. Then Blondie will. I’ll collate the two, and then we’ll move to more important stuff. Like choice for the centerpieces. Florists. Catering. Seating chart for the rehearsal dinner and ceremony. It’ll all take place on the farm, I’ve decided. So, is Roberto handling the lighting or should I bring a third party? And before you ask, no, your ring bearer is not going to be that pig. Last time I stepped foot on that farm, I caught him munching at my Hermès.”

I blinked at her, watching her as she took a quick swig of her Sharkie. That bag Pedro Pigscal had been munching at, as she put it, was worth thousands of dollars.

But all right. Good. I could also exercise some reasonable agreeableness. So I took the iPad from her with a smile. And when she offered me a pen, I snatched it, too, my lips tipping even higher.

And I started checking random things off the multicategory lists. Tap-tap-tap-tap I went. Wickedly fast. Wooden accents, mason jars, centerpieces, hors d’oeuvres, Southern sweets, signature cocktails, a band, also a string quartet. Wedding favors? All of them. Types of flowers… tap. Caterer options, tap-tap. I swiped up and down and tapped some more. It took me all of a couple of minutes, and when I was done, I placed the pen beside the device and returned both things to her.

“Gee, thanks,” Bobbi huffed.

I rested my chin on my fist. “I’m quick.” And the wedding wasn’t taking place anyway. So what did it matter what I chose? “Plenty of experience under my belt, huh?”

Bobbi collected the iPad and pen. “So I have heard,” Bobbi muttered, glancing down. “Let’s hope the Build Your Own Sundae station makes this one the charm, huh?”

I had no idea I’d ticked that off. “Nothing says wedding like a sundae.”

Bobbi leaned away from the counter in one swift and elegant motion. “Don’t be late to tonight’s party.” Her lips pursed in thought. “Willa Wang will try to corner you and Blondie. Don’t ask me how I know, but I know. So don’t let her corner you. Understood? Say you’re sick, or make the face from earlier and then pretend to sneak away to have sex. Engaged people get away with that. Or even better, you agree on a safe word with Blondie and use it. But you are, under no circumstances, talking to that woman unless I’m present. Got it?”

I swallowed. “Got it.”

Bobbi whirled on her heels, then stopped herself.

She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Oh, and please tell the maid of honor and best man to reach out. They didn’t confirm attendance for tonight and I still don’t know what kind of party they’ll want to throw you, if any, but the good strippers will be booked on such short notice. And Andrew is not paying for the cheap ones, yeah?”

And with that she left.

Leaving me to deal with the implications of what she’d just said.

In my attempt at protecting Adalyn, I’d also kept her from things she should have been otherwise involved in. I hadn’t even asked her to be my maid of honor. I… hadn’t even known that they weren’t coming to Andrew’s wine tasting. I hadn’t even talked to her in the past few days.

My heart sank.

God. Was I driving away my sister, too?

In a not-so-shocking turn of events, Willa Wang had cornered us.

Bobbi was going to give us so much crap for this. I’d been hoping she’d pop out of thin air like she always seemed to be doing, then whisk us away and save the night. But she was nowhere to be found.

This was bad. Worse than what I’d expected, or Bobbi had implied. Willa Wang had a recording device, the kind you saw in old movies. Did she know there was an app for that? The tiny charcoal-colored device she’d clicked the moment we’d taken a seat was making me feel like we were being interrogated.

That, and her questions.

Matthew had been batting those away as Willa pitched them. And there’d been many. We were just missing the little mound of sand beneath our feet at this point. Which was a strange thought considering I knew very little about baseball.

My fiancé shifted by my side, his arm coming up behind me and resting on the back of my chair. We were sitting on the patio, if I had to pick a name. I wasn’t sure the kind of estate Andrew was renting had a patio. It felt more like a big expanse of greenery and gardens. Several. I was pretty sure there was a gazebo past the line of trees around the area where we were sitting, where most of the guests were gathered now, and I was betting all of Josie’s revenue this month that there was a fountain somewhere.

The evening was warm, or warmer than it should have been, perhaps, much like the days preceding this one, but there was a bite to the air. The kind that had you keep a jacket at the ready. I’d left mine in the car just in case, and when Matthew’s hand grazed the back of my shoulder blade with his thumb, I couldn’t be more grateful for having left it there. I glanced at him, taking notice of how absolutely delectable he looked. His outfit looked even better in person, and when I’d come out the door to find him leaning on his car, I’d had to bite my tongue so I didn’t beg him to wear those exact pants and that exact shirt every day of the week.

And by the way? I’d been right about the glasses. I—

Willa cleared her throat, snagging me back. “Thank you, Matthew,” she said, even though she was looking at me. “That was another fascinating story about Boston-based sports. But I’m also interested in hearing about you, Josie.”

So that’s where the baseball metaphor had come from.

I snickered. “I think I’d like to hear more Boston trivia. It was really cool to hear that the sinking of the Titanic overshadowed the first big win the Red Sox ever had. I wonder if there’s more Matthew can tell us about the Sox.” The man beside me huffed out a surprised laugh. “Actually, I don’t think he was done with the story about the wall. I’d love to hear why it’s called the Green Monster. What came first, the fact that it was green or the name? I’ve been wondering since he mentioned it.”

Willa let out a puff of air I interpreted as a sign of frustration.

The truth was that after Willa’s first—and very personal—question directed at me, Matthew had been taking all of them. And the man possessed the ability to bring any topic of conversation to sports. Specifically, Boston-based sports. It was truly outstanding, really. Oh, and he was really bad at masking his clear distaste for the New York Yankees. Which I’d found… adorable. It was probably the only sports-related thing I could name that Matthew didn’t love.

“It was very generous of Andrew,” Willa said in that tone I was beginning to think she used when her patience slipped. “To extend the wedding invitation to everyone in town. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I answered, my back going ramrod straight. The soft weight of Matthew’s hand disappeared, and I ignored the goose bumps its absence left. “It really is. We’re so grateful that he’s offering to cover all costs, too. As I’m sure you know. It’s a big guest list now. Big catering effort. Lots of glasses to fill and skewers to have at hand. No one thinks of skewers, but they’re important.”

Willa blinked. “Your speech at the farmers’ market was so moving,” she said then, patting her chest. “One could tell it came right from the heart.” Her eyes fluttered closed, as if she was remembering something. “Oh yes. A piece of our soul. And potentially, the start of a new beginning. That was my favorite part. Beautiful words, really.”

I’d been trying not to think too much of it, but in hindsight, my words had probably been a little more revealing than I’d intended. I peeked down at the recorder, unease swelling in my gut. Matthew’s hand fell on top of mine, engulfing it as it rested on the white linen covering the elegant garden table.

“Why, thank you, Willa,” I said with a smile. Of sorts. “Mmh, you know what? I’m sorry, but I can’t get that story about the wall out of my head.” I turned to Matthew, brown eyes already on me. “I think I might be into baseball. Who would have thought?”

I knew from the way Matthew looked at me that he was gauging my words. The urgency behind them. The urgency I was sure was making my smile look wonky. Bobbi had been right: we needed a safe word. I would have used it right now.

Willa cleared her throat, just like she’d done the dozen times she’d been about to intercept a change in topic.

Without thinking too much of it, I brought Matthew’s hand to my mouth, much like he’d done a time or two in the past. I brushed my lips over the back, widening my eyes at him with a wordless sign.

It didn’t work.

Matthew was so taken aback for a second, the look in his eyes so… dazed, that my attempt backfired. For both of us.

“I—I’d love to take you home to Boston,” Matthew said, voice rocky. We both realized Willa was talking. But we weren’t looking at her. He brought our hands to his lap, and I would have probably flushed if I wasn’t so surprised by his words. “All this talk about the Sox is making me a little homesick.” He laughed, but it was strained, maybe even filled with longing. He turned to face Willa. My eyes remained on his profile. “I guess that’s why I can’t shake the idea of taking Josie to a game. Putting her in a jersey. Watching the sunset from the stands. Grabbing an Italian sausage from a cart outside Fenway. And walking back home after the game to catch dinner at my folks’. ”

His eyes creased at the corners. My heart stopped.

“Ma would give us shit for snacking, but nothing has ever stopped me from polishing off her shepherd’s pie.” His thumb caressed the back of my hand. “She’d love to have someone to gang up on me with.” His throat worked. Mine tightened, emotion sending the organ in my chest for a sprint. “She’d fall in love with Josie at first sight. Try to steal her away from me.”

I started shaking. It wasn’t cold; there wasn’t a runaway gust of wind breaking through the evening and hitting my skin. It was longing. An intense kind of yearning. At his words. And God, I wanted them, I realized. I wanted that. To reach out and grasp it in my hands. Make it true.

Only I… I wasn’t going to. I didn’t even know how much of that he really did mean. And that was probably why I felt so rattled inside. Fenway, the Italian sausage, the shepherd’s pie, it wouldn’t be mine. Not in the way he meant, not now, and certainly not after this. Boston might have been in the cards, perhaps, at some point. In some strange and parallel reality where we weren’t doing this.

We don’t get married but stay friends.

“So they haven’t met?” Willa asked. Matthew stiffened. I did too. “Josephine and your mother, they haven’t met?”

Whatever I’d been so occupied yearning for vanished. This was exactly why we needed a safe word.

“Not in person,” I rushed out. “We’ve met on FaceTime. Which is perfectly normal these days. As Bobbi said, remember? At least for me, it is. I love Pam and Paddy, they’re wonderful.”

“Do you have plans to meet soon?” Willa fired back before I could so much as relax after saying that. “Surely before the wedding, right?”

I blinked, my stomach sinking. I didn’t have an answer for that. I… Did Matthew’s parents know about December first? Did they know the truth? Was he lying to them, too? God. I couldn’t believe I didn’t know that. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked or assured Matthew he didn’t need to lie to them. I’d never want him to. And if he had, and they thought I was that person all over Page Nine, then I couldn’t even begin to fathom what they thought about me. How had I not asked? How—

“They’re on a trip,” my fiancé answered, his voice stern. Dry. What did that mean? “They packed up all their stuff, sold the house, and are now traveling the country in an RV. A realization of their retirement dreams.”

Willa pulled her notepad and pen out and scribbled something.

“Tell me about your mother, Josephine.”

My attention bounced back to the journalist.

“Liz,” Willa insisted. “You must miss her at times like this.”

“I miss her every day she’s been gone,” I heard myself say. My voice was strong, but only because I was used to switching that on when I talked about her. “I’ve been loved, though,” I added. Long fingers interlaced with mine, and the comfort they brought me didn’t help with how hard my next breath was. “I was very fortunate.”

“Maurice took you in, if I’m correct?” Willa asked. “I assume he was the father figure you didn’t have growing up.”

He had and he hadn’t. Grandpa Moe had been in my life long before then. He’d always been the grandparent figure I never had, helping Mom out when she needed a hand, although we weren’t related. But I never considered him a replacement or a way to fill a void I had. Grandpa Moe was Grandpa Moe. When he took me in for those few months, things didn’t really change except for the fact that Mom wasn’t there. But none of that was relevant to Willa’s job. Andrew was. “He did,” I finally managed to get out.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Willa commented.

“Luckily, I have Andrew now.” My words felt funny as they left me, but this was the whole point of everything I’d put myself through. I’d put everyone through. “He’s in Green Oak, generously paying for the wedding”—I took in a breath—“and ready to be a part of my life.”

The hand engulfing mine tightened.

Willa continued, relentless. “Was it hard to go through the motions of four engagements, knowing he was out there?”

Her words bounced in the space between us for a few moments, and I became very still. So much so, I didn’t speak.

Her dark eyes glinted with interest. “How did it feel to stand at the start of that aisle, not once, but multiple times, knowing your father didn’t want to be there for you?”

Matthew stood up, my hand still clasped in his. “That’s enough—”

I tugged at him, bringing his words to a stop. He was such a good, protective man. He made my heart squeeze and burst at the way he’d just jumped. I’d always wanted that. Someone like him. But I wasn’t defenseless. I’d fended for myself for a long time. And as neurotic and na?ve and people-pleasing as I might be, I also knew how to stand up for myself.

“Why is that relevant to you?” I asked Willa. “Aren’t you supposed to focus on Andrew’s achievements? His career? All the things he’s accomplished? Why would I matter?”

“Maybe because Andrew hasn’t worked out the courage to talk too much about you yet.” She shrugged an elegant shoulder. But I could tell she was bothered. I could tell she was a woman who wasn’t used to not getting the answers she searched for. “Or maybe because all this buzz online is making me curious about the infamous Josie Moore. The Underwood Affair, as some are calling it.”

My teeth grated together for an instant. “You’re not that different from them, then. Page Nine.” Willa’s easy poise broke. “And if you’re looking for a new direction for my father’s book, I’m not the person to run that by.”

She clicked a button on the recorder with a tight smile, as if I’d just hit the nail on the head. “It’s our pasts that forge the people we are today, Josephine. You’re a piece in Andrew’s puzzle. A fortunate accident, a phase, a misstep… It doesn’t really matter what. I thought you could understand that much, considering you too hid a past.”

I came to a slow, relaxed stand. Feeling my hands shake. “You’re wrong about that.” I moved around the chair and casually inserted myself at Matthew’s side, as if that was something I did every day. As if it was something I was meant to do. I kept my eyes on Willa Wang. “Unlike my father, everything about me has always been out in the open. The only difference is that now people seem to care.” I placed my hand on Matthew’s chest. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to sneak away from everyone and have a private moment with my fiancé, if you know what I mean.” I winked. “I need the kind of distraction only he can provide after this. And someone told me we might get away with that sort of thing.”

In a matter of seconds, we were moving, something halfway between a laugh and a grunt rumbling out the chest my cheek and hand were still plastered to.

“Shit,” I murmured. Feeling the weight of what I’d just said with every step we took away from Willa. “Crap. Ugh. Shitballs. No. Hairy stinking shitballs. That was soooo bad. So super bad. Bobbi is going to have both our heads.”

Matthew’s arm tightened around me. “That was incredibly hot.”

“You get off on people being rude?” I muttered.

“I think you know what gets me off, sweetheart,” he said. Proudly. Loudly, too, by the way.

“I thought we were not doing the sweetheart thing.” I sighed, trying to ignore his answer. “That’s a step backward.”

“Direction is relative.”

I frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means.” His hand splayed around my hip, the tips of his fingers catching on the bodice of the dress I wore. My breath hitched. He changed directions, swaying us left. “I’m just praying you were serious about what you said.”

“About what?”

Matthew stopped at the bar. It was a lot less crowded now that most guests had drifted toward the trays of charcuterie near the house.

He faced me, and I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline releasing or the fact we were somewhat alone, but I felt my whole body relax. The corners of his mouth twitched, satisfied.

“About what?” I repeated.

His smile turned sly. Dangerous. Enticing. “We’re having that private moment I was promised.”