Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Matthew left North Carolina at dawn.
Cameron had dropped Adalyn off with Grandpa and me, and then booked himself on the same flight as Matthew.
The thought of him tagging along eased me. It made me a little less anxious as I counted down the hours to noon—when Filthy Reali-Tea would be on air with the man I loved and had asked to tell the world every secret we have shared.
Time had trickled slowly, and although Adalyn had been around, Josie’s Joint remaining closed hadn’t helped. Not that the alternative was an option. I couldn’t face everyone without Matthew. It didn’t feel right. And he’d made me promise I wouldn’t. So I’d hung a sign and let everyone believe we were working through our feelings.
We were, in a way.
Because Matthew was going on that podcast to tell my story. Ours. And it filled me with as much relief as anxiety. I also had this gut-feeling, my gut-tummy-drop feeling, that something was about to go down. That whatever plans we’d spent making that night wouldn’t necessarily work. But it could be just my insecurities or fear talking. It could be just me.
Because I did believe that sometimes love was enough.
And some other times it conquered the world.
It depended on how much magic was in the air that day.
“Do you have any of those kale chips around?” Adalyn asked from the threshold of the kitchen. “I’m craving something green.”
“Huh. Matthew finished them.” Adalyn’s mouth fell. “But I have olives. Peas. Brussels sprouts?”
She sighed. “I’ll take the olives I think.” Her expression turned hesitant. “Are you doing good?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Just a little anxious. I wish I’d gone with him. He got all gruffy and scowly when I suggested it, and I conceded because I think a part of me was scared to go. But that was probably selfish.”
She padded the distance between us and gave me a squeeze. “You’re the best person I know,” she whispered before releasing me. “You’re not selfish. And there’s no way on earth that Matthew would have let you board that flight. Neither would Cam, actually. It’s been incredibly hard to keep him from stomping into Page Nine to take matters into his own hands all this time. I’m a little worried they secretly plotted doing that in fact.” She sighed. “So let’s just hope we don’t need to bail them out for something stupid tomorrow. Now tell me where the olives are, I’m getting cranky.”
I chuckled, although it came out a little strained. “Top cabinet, left.”
The doorbell rang and we separated, her disappearing into the kitchen and me jogging over to the door.
A set of blue eyes behind a stern expression welcomed me. “Oh,” I mumbled, surprised. “Hi, A—”
“I’m sorry,” he said. Or more like the words left him.
My body stumbled back a little, the weight of those two simple words hitting me harder than I expected. “That’s…” I swallowed. “Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t be thanking me.” Andrew shook his head. “Listen, I…” he trailed off for an instant, hesitating. “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. I think it’s clear from the way I’ve acted. The truth is that I don’t know how to be around you. I don’t know whether you hate me or are skittish because you don’t trust me. But I do know I’ve done enough to deserve both. That’s why I’m here.”
I frowned, not really understanding what he referred to. There was so much to unpack. So much to ask and to say and to discuss. “I don’t hate you,” I told him. “But you’re right, I don’t trust you, either. Trust is something you earn. Not through video calls or turning a person into an agenda item, or unilaterally deciding you’re moving closer to them. And I… I wasn’t brave enough to say that earlier. But I am now.”
His expression opened up, as if finally receptive to what I was saying. Receptive to who I was.
“I wanted a relationship with you,” I continued. Embracing that surge of courage I’d found in my words. “I don’t blame you for the mess I made, and I also owe you an apology for lying. I’d love to say that it’s fine because it was well-intentioned. But it wasn’t. It isn’t fine, and while I have a lot of work to do on myself, I think you should also do that.” Emotion rose, attempting to clog my throat. I pushed through. “I wanted you, Andrew. As my dad. But I’m realizing you don’t owe me that. I’m wondering whether wanting that relationship was a mistake. I’m realizing I no longer want to bridge the gap to you. So until you decide to do that, I’m not sure I want to keep in touch with you. It’s… too much. And I’m sorry. But—”
“But nothing,” Andrew interjected, voice softer than ever. “You don’t need an excuse or to justify yourself. The mistakes that have led us here are mine. Eloise wanted to protect you, and I can’t say I blame her.” His head shook, and my chest tightened at the mention of Mom. “You’re not a misstep.”
My lips parted, my emotion coming out in a single breath.
“You’re not a regret, Josephine. I’d love to say that my biggest regret is allowing the circumstances to define how we met, but I’m the only one to blame for that. I see that now.”
I pressed my lips, just so nothing would come out. Just so I would stay strong and not break the promise I made myself to give us space to grow. Whether that was in the same or different directions.
He pulled something out of his jacket.
“These are my responses,” he said, gaze cast down on the stack of letters he held between us. “To the letters your mother sent me while you were growing up. I wish I could tell you some big tale about star-crossed lovers, but we were far more pragmatic than that. I never cheated on Adalyn’s mother. It wasn’t an affair. It was just two people feeling lonely one night.” He sighed. “It all… unraveled quickly, and I was selfish enough to convince myself I had a say in more than just my life. It’s all in the letters. I think that’s why I never sent them.” He took a step back. “Read them. Burn them. Feed them to the press if that’s what you think I deserve. They’re yours to do with as you please.”
I blinked at him as I took the stack. At a complete loss for words.
Andrew continued, “I’ll fly back to Miami today. This is not something you should care about, but the book is not happening. It’s what started all of this, in a way. I was concerned with the tabloids smearing that. My name. My legacy. I suppose the dream had always been a byproduct of my ego, like Bobbi said a few times.” He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t really see how much wisdom I could impart any longer either way, don’t you think?”
My lips fell open, but nothing came out. My brain was struggling to process all of that. To deal with the fact that this was the most Andrew had ever told me. The most we’d ever talked. The most he’d shared.
“Thank you,” I finally mumbled. “I…”
I won’t burn the letters. Or publish them. I never could.
That was what I should have said.
But I didn’t. “Matthew’s telling everyone the truth. Today. He’s landing in Chicago as we speak.”
Andrew’s mouth twitched and tipped up, gracing his face with a smile. It was an odd one. Small, and crooked, as if rusty from misuse. It was also a surprise. “Good,” he said. “I won’t bother you for a while. But I’d love to have the four of you over for Christmas. Doesn’t need to be a holiday. Any day you can all spare will do.”
My brows arched.
“Feel free to say no.” He took a step back. Then another one. “I’ll keep trying until you ask me to stop.” His head dipped, giving me one stern nod. “Bye, Josephine. Bye, Adalyn.”
I was watching him descend the porch steps in the direction of a black sedan, barely making sense of his last words, when a hand fell on my shoulder.
“You okay?” Adalyn said, squeezing. “You’re barely blinking, and my brain is saying that’s not necessarily bad, but my hormones are on high alert.”
I shook my head, a strange laugh coming out. “I… I think I’m fine. Yeah, I think I’m starting to see how both our mothers weren’t completely blind.”
Adalyn snorted, but the amusement was short-lived. “He has his moments.” A pause. “It’s about to start.”
My heart plundered, and I hugged the letters to my chest. I still didn’t know whether I wanted to read them, but he’d given me the chance to. The choice.
“Let’s go.”
INTERIOR— FILTHY REALI-TEA STUDIO—DAY
SAM: Hi, hello. This is Sam.
NICK: And this is Nick.
SAM & NICK: And you’re listening to Filthy Reali-Tea.
SAM: (laughs) Wow, look at us. Nailing that for the first time in Filthy history.
NICK: I know, who are we? (chuckles) It must be the pressure of having such a special guest with us today. And let me tell you, if you’re not watching the video recording and are listening, yes, he’s hella cute too. And he showed up with a man that had me gasping for—
SAM: Stop that, Nick. You said you’d stop flirting with our guests. And the guests of our guests.
NICK: I said I’d try.
SAM: Well, try a little harder than that before you derail this train. All right, let’s all ignore Nick being Nick and give a warm welcome to our guest, Matthew Flanagan, who you know as Fiancé Number Five, if you’ve been following The Underwood Affair. Hi Matthew.
(Beat of silence)
MATTHEW: Hi.
NICK: I mean, I do love a man who makes us work for a laugh. So Matthew, hi again, and thank you for being here. You really love playing hard to get, and not just for that smile you’re hiding. When The Boss, who you also had the pleasure of working under, told us you’d confirmed last-minute, it took me a moment to process.
SAM: We should tell our Reali-tiers that Matthew used to be a colleague until not long ago. He was the man you can’t see behind the glass window, making sure everything ran smoothly and things like this podcast had—
MATTHEW: A script.
NICK: (awkward laugh) No need to throw us under the bus here. We like to call that script more of a… guideline. We bring the authenticity, right? There’s no podcast without a good podcaster, and that’s just fact.
SAM: Period. But for legal reasons, all jokes belong to the pod, not us.
NICK: So anyway. We’re super excited to have you here, so we can finally get the real scoop, straight from the source. But first tell us, how are you?
SAM: Heartbreaking news. We were all rooting for you. Well, I was rooting for her, to be honest.
MATTHEW: You weren’t rooting for her. You never were.
NICK: (laughs awkwardly) Hey, I would be touchy too. And don’t worry, we are more than happy to be your emotional support blankie, just grab on to us and tell us how you feel. How did this start? How did it crash and burn? The wedding is clearly off now, but how is the news affecting you? Did you see it coming?
(Long silence)
MATTHEW: I don’t really want to be here.
NICK: Gee. (chuckles) Don’t go around being so mean, Matthew, or I might fall in love with you.
MATTHEW: We had a plan. She asked me to do this. To come onto this and tell her story. Our story. That it all started as a PR issue that wasn’t hers to deal with.
SAM: (gasps loudly)
NICK: I’m sorry, what? Hold on—Are we getting some tea on Rich Daddy? Sorry—Andrew Underwood? Did he hire one of those PR teams and have you guys trained or something? You can tell us. You—
MATTHEW: But there was never an issue. She was never an issue. And hers is not my story to tell. (laughs to himself) I’m fucking done with hearing her name in your mouth. Anyone’s mouth. So you’re going to hear my side.
SAM: (murmured) What is going on right now?
NICK: I don’t know. (muttered, then clearer) But let’s hear it, then. This is all we’ve ever wanted, by bringing you on. The story beneath the story. The wedding is off now, you clearly are hurt by that. So tell us about that. Tell us your story, Matthew. How everything unraveled.
(Thick silence)
MATTHEW: Josie’s the love of my life. Plain and simple.
SAM: (hesitant) Whoa. I feel you, I mean—
MATTHEW: You don’t feel me, no. Spare no details, she asked me before I left. Let’s dictate how this ends. She meant about her and her story, her reputation, as she loves to call it. As you’ve made her believe. Well, fuck that. I’m going to tell you about mine. I’m for the most part what you would call unserious. I never took much besides this job seriously. I joke about everything because I feel that’s what’s expected from me. There’s one thing I’m always serious about, though. That’s love. When I was little, my grandmother told me that a Flanagan man just knows. She gave me a ring and I kept it ever since. Decades later I got a text from my best friend saying she’d met my soul mate. (laughs with disbelief) This is the second time in a few days that I’m talking about that damn text, but the truth is that I have been thinking of it for a long time. (pauses) It was meant as a joke, a comment you made in passing. But I immediately remembered Gran. I had the suspicion, the inkling of a feeling, that my best friend might be right. Months later, I was fired. From Page Nine, yes. Just because I refused to be a complete hypocrite. Josie thinks it’s because I wanted to protect my friends. But I also wanted to protect her. I knew she’d be dragged into it. It’d be a matter of time.
NICK: (in a low voice) Ah. Can that be cut? I don’t think—
MATTHEW: Life uprooted. My gut immediately screamed at me. A part of me knew where I wanted to go. To her. Before I knew what I was doing, I was calling my best friend. Asking for a favor. (brief pause) The ten hours of driving I spent convincing myself that I was being an idiot. A fool. What was I even doing? Then I finally saw her. In the flesh. And as much as I tried not to build her up in my head, as much as I’d told myself not to be a fool, that there aren’t such things as soul mates, or fate, or love at first sight, there she was. In a fucking face mask, a towel wrapped around her hair and a robe covered in strawberry jam, while she stood in the middle of the strangest fucking situation I’d ever stumbled upon. And I kept looking at her eyes, gut telling me something I couldn’t understand, something I couldn’t quite piece together. I was so fucking tired that night. Dead on my feet. And I hadn’t recognized her, you see. Not right away. I hadn’t immediately known it was her. I was so furious at myself. You have no idea. In an instant I’d gone from having a chance, a clean slate to see if my grandmother’s words were a fantasy or nothing more than words an old woman brought with her from a past life, to having none of that. She was asking me to play her fiancé. To act like we were in love to make some PR shit go away. But the moment I agreed, I knew she’d think all I did was pretend.
I knew she’d push me away. Eventually. I’ve watched enough movies and read enough books to know everything would get too complicated. Too hard to discern what was true from what was fake. Hell, I worked in a world that profited from that. By some miracle, I managed to make her see past that and fall in love with me. I showed her I’m giving chase, I’m not letting her run on me, or push me away. And yet, when she heard that you would tempt me with money or job offers or a raise, I saw it right there. In her eyes. The doubt.
That’s why I’m really here. Not because she asked me to tell the truth and put all of this to rest. But to tell you to show the decency you love to brag about. To tell her, the world, to show her that there’s nothing to choose. There’s no settling, sacrificing, or molding myself to anything. Dear God, this is what those men, what Andrew Underwood, what you two with this bullshit you call entertainment, have led her to believe. That she’s either meant to leave or be left. Goddamn fools, all of them. I’d personally thank them if I didn’t want to break their teeth for not seeing what was in front of them.
Luckily for me, I’m not them. I’m not changing my life for her. I’m not settling. I’m not sitting here and telling you anyone’s story over mine. I’m not choosing her over something else. I can’t because there was never a choice. I don’t give a shit how corny or cliché this sounds, but I knew when I saw her, and I know now more than ever before. I don’t need her to walk down an aisle, wear my ring, or sign her name on a dotted line. She’s my happy. The rest is only important when you need it and everyone should fucking know that.
I only need her. Jobs are replaceable. Careers are fickle. Roots grow anywhere there’s ground. Commitment and love are shown with actions. And I plan on doing that every fucking day of my life as long as I have her.
Easy as that.
(Long moment of silence)
NICK: I… Wow.
SAM: (clears throat) Holy shit. I— That was not planned.
NICK: I did not expect that, no. I— Wait. Matthew. Matthew? Where are you going? We’re not done. We—
MATTHEW: (muffled, then clearer) Josie won’t be happy with me after I get this one last thing out, but as I’ve said many times, she has a class I lack. Duncan Aguirre? If you ever so much as think to use my woman or anyone in our circle in the future for your own benefit, I’ll tell the world where you were on September 15. And who you were with. And yes, I’m talking about her mama, too. I might have principles sometimes, but I’m still a petty man. That’s it. I have a flight back home to catch.