CHAPTER 10 Ford Bradley
Winston Manor
Lindsay and Devon hired Tatum immediately when they checked out her Instagram page dedicated to the work she’s done, and she spends the week learning the atmosphere here in Tampa while I work hard at practice.
When I get home each night, she’s curled up on the couch watching some show about weddings.
She pauses it, sits up, and fills me in on her day, and she listens and asks questions as I talk about my day.
It feels like everything I want out of life—you know, except the sex part. Or the no-sex part, as the case may be.
What we have is intimate and close, but there’s a clear line in the sand separating what we have from romance.
Still, the base is there. The bones. The foundation. It’s strong, and maybe that’s why it hurts so much that we can’t go any further than where we are.
It’s Monday afternoon, and I just got off the phone with my lawyer when I walk into the kitchen, rubbing my forehead. She’s there, too, refilling her giant water bottle, a purse slung across her body and sunglasses perched on her head, holding her hair back from her face.
She glances up at me when I walk in. “I’m off to view a couple venues. I don’t have appointments or anything. This is more of a vibe check, a pre-appointment visit if you will. Want to join me?” she asks.
It wasn’t really on the list of things I want to accomplish today, but I also don’t want to pass up the chance to spend a little extra time with her.
With that in mind, I nod. “Sure, I’d love to.”
I drive and she navigates, and every passing moment I spend with her shows me just what a powerful team we are. We arrive at the first venue, take a quick tour, and meet back in the car. She shakes her head. “It’s a no from me.”
I tilt my head and, out of curiosity, ask, “Why?”
“The carpeting.”
I chuckle. “The carpeting?”
“People want these grand photographs of their wedding. Every moment captured. I can’t have Lindsay and Devon walking into their reception on that hideous carpet.”
“So put down a red carpet or something,” I suggest.
She shakes her head. “We’re not going for a cheesy vibe, Ford.”
I hold up both hands. “What’s cheesy about a red carpet? Devon’s a celebrity.”
“Devon’s an athlete, and it seems to me that red would be the competition’s color. Right?”
“I suppose so,” I say, thinking of the other team in Tampa Bay.
“It’s not the vibe we’re looking for. Next up is the Lowell House.”
“Lowell House?” I repeat as she punches the address into her phone to pull up a map to get us there.
“Lindsay wants simple and elegant. This is near downtown, very elegant, coastal and cosmopolitan at the same time.”
“Let’s do it.” We head to Lowell House, which is actually a gorgeous venue that Tatum puts directly at the top of her list.
We view a few others, and it’s really kind of amazing to watch her at work. She knows as soon as we pull into the parking lot at one place that it won’t work because, according to her, “This parking lot can’t accommodate the number of guests they want.”
We navigate next to a place right on the water, Winston Manor. It’s a gorgeous mansion, very Florida with its stucco exterior that could use a fresh coat of paint but otherwise looks pristine.
When she tries the handles on the large double doors, they’re locked.
She glances at me, and I try them, too—and I find the same, as if she didn’t just try it to find it locked.
“Maybe try the doorbell?” she suggests.
I push the button, and it’s one of those ones with a camera. A voice comes through a speaker I hadn’t seen.
“Be right there!”
A woman who looks to be in her eighties opens the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Tatum Barker, and this is Ford Bradley. How are you today?” Tatum asks, clearly nudging the woman to share her name, but she doesn’t.
“I’m fine, dear.”
Tatum clears her throat. “We are interested in viewing the manor for an upcoming wedding.”
“Oh, dear. You’re a lovely couple, but I’m afraid I have some terrible news,” the woman says.
Tatum and I glance at each other, not bothering to correct her assumption that we’re the couple who wants to get married here as we wait for her to spill it.
“Unfortunately, we’ve had to close our doors to future weddings.
We’re in the process of trying to find a buyer, but everyone we’ve talked to wants to gut it and turn it into a mansion.
Winston Manor has been in the Winston family for four generations.
It’s hard enough to sell it. To imagine someone gutting it simply guts me.
I won’t do it.” She shakes her head adamantly.
“Oh, that is terrible,” Tatum says, peeking past the woman into the space. “You wouldn’t consider allowing me to host a wedding here? One final dream day for a beautiful couple before you sell it?”
She sighs heavily. “I’m too old to host another wedding, I’m afraid.
” She clearly missed the part about Tatum being the host. “I’m the last Winston generation.
I never had any children, and I have nobody to leave the manor to.
I want it in good hands, so I’m working quickly to find the right buyer.
That’s taking up all my time right now.”
“What are you looking to sell it for?” Tatum asks quietly. She keeps her gaze focused on the woman rather than glancing at me.
“Five million dollars, contingent on a clause that this plot of land cannot be rezoned to residential.”
Holy fuck. That’s a bargain for this place.
She must not be trying very hard to sell it.
Tatum clears her throat. “I’m a wedding planner, Ms. Winston.
I have a vision to buy wedding venues and create dream weddings for my clients.
It feels like fate that I came here last today after viewing disappointing venue after disappointing venue only to fall immediately in love with this one before even stepping foot inside.
Would you allow us to come in and take a look around? ”
She looks surprised by the question, but she opens the door.
We step inside and walk around the first floor, which is basically a huge, open space with a gorgeous view out the back, perfect for a wedding ceremony, a reception, or both. And no red carpet—it’s all hardwood floors in here.
The wall along the right side of the room has a set of double doors on it, and the side by the entryway has a beautiful staircase all the way on the left.
“Right here is where the last wedding had the aisle, with the ceremony taking place in front of the windows,” she says, and Tatum walks the path the last bride walked.
Jesus Christ.
For just a second, I imagine her in a white dress, and I picture myself standing there in a tuxedo by the windows waiting for her.
I shake the vision out, but it’s strange how vivid it is even if it was just for a fleeting moment in time.
Ms. Winston shares the history of the place as we tour the first floor with her, ending up outside in the kind of backyard even I can visualize as the perfect place to hold an elegant wedding reception.
“Winston Manor was built originally in the eighteen hundreds as the home for Martha and Gene Winston, my great-grandparents. When a great gale came through in the late eighteen hundreds, it was one of the few structures that was untouched. They passed the manor to their only son, Gunther. Then the hurricane of nineteen twenty-one blew through, and the home was badly damaged. He rebuilt it, keeping the majority of the framework, but he didn’t want it to be his primary residence any longer, so he created Winston Manor, a place where people could begin their happily ever afters.
He was a romantic who would do anything to please my grandmother, and there was nothing she loved more than a good wedding.
The two of them passed the manor to their only son, Arthur, my father, who passed it to me.
We’ve gone through many renovations over the years, both structural and aesthetic, but the heart of the manor has always been meant for love stories, perhaps like yours.
” She smiles as she nods toward the two of us, and then she heads back inside and through the double doors we hadn’t entered into yet.
We’re taken into a vast and expansive commercial kitchen, already supplied with everything anyone would need to cook up the perfect first meal for the bride and groom.
The entire time the woman talks to us, that same vision keeps popping into my head. Tatum walking down the aisle. Me waiting at the end.
I can’t shake it out no matter how hard I try.
“This is our back-of-house kitchen, and the stairs over there lead up to the office, which is where I was when you rang. Upstairs are the office, restrooms, an owner’s suite, a bridal suite, and a groom’s room.
I also recently had an elevator installed behind the grand staircase because it’s harder and harder for me to get up and down the stairs.
The six-car garage has been converted to a storage space where we keep chairs, tables, that sort of thing.
Would you like to see upstairs?” she asks.
Tatum nods. “Please.”
She nods to the corner. “You’re welcome to take those stairs. Give me a few minutes to meet you there.”
“It’s not necessary. We’ll be quick,” Tatum says.
“Okay, my dears. I’ll be here, then.” She pulls out a chair at a small table in the corner that is probably meant for tastings, and we head upstairs together.
“Oh my God,” she whisper-screams at me once we reach the top of the stairs. A sprawling office stretches in front of us with a couple of desks, but the back wall is all windows, offering unparalleled views of Old Tampa Bay, the northwestern arm of the Tampa Bay estuary.
I had a feeling that’s what she was going to say.
“Ford, this place is perfect. Don’t you think?
” She wanders through the large office and toward another hallway, where we find the elevator at the end of a long hallway that has the suites.
Two on the left look out the front of the manor, and the one on the right is the owner’s suite that looks over the water.
The owner’s suite is huge. She’s right. Everything about this place is perfect.
Especially that vision that is nothing more than my imagination working overtime.
“It’s incredible, right?” she asks.
“It’s more than incredible,” I say carefully.
“It would blow my entire budget for my future plans, but I could put down half with my trust fund and finance the rest. This place would easily pay for itself in a few years. I had a couple of reno ideas for downstairs, and God, this view. Could you imagine the kinds of celebrity weddings I could hold here? It’s not like I can purchase more than one venue at a time.
It’s a great dream to have, a beautiful goal, but I’m in love with this one. ”
“You were in love with the Bradley mansion yesterday,” I remind her.
“I still am,” she says quietly, her eyes flicking to mine.
“But this one’s a third of the price of that one and doesn’t need much work.
I could have it ready to hold a wedding in as little as a month or two pending staff hires, and I could turn it around and start making money immediately to fund my next venue—maybe even the mansion.
Ugh, this place is just so perfect.” She grabs my arm and links hers through mine.
“Tell me I’m not crazy.” She gasps. “Oh my God, Ford, do this with me. Reno this place with me while I’m here in town, help me oversee it when I have to get back to Vegas.
Or even better, make this investment with me.
We could each put up half, and we can figure out logistics to benefit you.
Tax breaks, a great investment, a share in the profits, and all that, but we could also use it for team events.
We could host charity events, luncheons, even team retreats or sponsorship events.
Whatever we can dream up together. You and me, Ford Bradley. ”
Her arm is still linked through mine, and it’s ridiculous. It’s wild. I make smart investments. I’m careful and strategic with my money—barring the money I had to put up last week for my father’s bail.
But this is Tatum Barker.
The woman I’ve been in love with for as long as I can remember. The only woman I’ve ever been in love with despite the fact that I’m knocking on thirty’s door.
This gives me roots in Tampa, where my goal is to play for my entire career, and it gives me a potential project in the offseason and a potential direction once my playing days are over.
I never dreamed of planning weddings after my playing days.
But what I did think about was investing in real estate. I never defined what type of real estate, but event venues could be smart.
Still, none of that matters a single bit when the only thing I can think about is that it also gives me a connection to Tatum.
It gives us something to work on together.
It allows me to continue being with her, and it’s something that we’re setting up that’s just for us, with no Archer on the periphery.
And that’s why I’m not surprised when the words drop from my lips. “I’m in.”