Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Shortly after their escapade in Skipton’s dungeons, Winnie and Matthew headed straight for York. Despite feeling guilty still for the redness lingering on Matthew’s cheek, Winnie had enjoyed every minute of their drive.
Matthew had taken a longer route to the city, showing her more incredible views of Yorkshire’s greenery before they finally reached York. Together, they headed to the bed and breakfast just on the outskirts of the city where they parted for their separate rooms and agreed to meet downstairs for dinner shortly after.
Winnie took a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and replaced the wellies with a pair of red heels, having been reassured by Matthew that they were finished with stairs and muddy puddles—at least for now.
Truthfully, were it not for the small blisters now forming on her heels from the rain boots, Winnie would have probably worn them throughout the night. They were comfortable, sensible, and produced more compliments than Winnie had received in her life.
In those boots, she was no longer Winnie Knox. Instead she was Winnie: Gaudy Wellies Wearer, and she loved it.
Unfortunately, the city called for something a bit nicer, and those floral attention-getters just did not match with the sleek black dress she’d changed into that night for dinner.
As she peered into the mirror, she made to pull her hair back into her typical bun, then paused. Wasn’t there something different she could do? Something a little less boss-y? Besides, if she wasn’t supposed to think about work, why did she have to look like work?
She dug through her toiletry bag, finding a claw clip inside before twisting her hair up loosely and allowing a few tendrils to frame her face.
There. Now she didn’t appear so fierce.
But as she closed and locked the door behind her, Winnie wondered if she’d put in a little too much effort that evening. Hair, lipstick, clothing. Was she trying to draw too much attention to herself? What if Matthew still wore what he had before? She’d look like a try-hard.
Fortunately, her worries were set aside when she saw him standing at the base of the stairs waiting for her, wearing slacks and a striped button-up shirt, though his curly mane was only slightly tamed.
He caught sight of her as she stood at the top of the stairs, a smile growing on his face as his eyes settled on her heels. “Got tired of those wellies, did you?”
She smiled. “I figured I’d go for something a little more subtle tonight.”
He looked her up and down. “Then you probably shouldn’t have worn that dress.”
Her heart skipped a beat in response.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak as the two of them headed out the door.
Winnie did everything she could to distract herself from Matthew—from his compliment and from the way his slacks hugged his thighs to his ability to make her not only feel heard but also seen .
That was all easier said than done until they reached the inside of the city, where Winnie was shocked to discover that York was, in fact, surrounded by a large wall. Matthew explained the history as they walked down the streets, both sides of the small roads lined with countless shops, their windows boasting of Christmas décor, antique books, and hand-crafted teapots.
It reminded her of New York in a way, but this old York held a definite magic to it, a magic that she was sure came from how ancient the city was and the history it held. Instead of towering, metal skyscrapers, York overflowed with quaint shops, overhanging signs, and cobbled roads, and Winnie fell in love with England just a little bit more because of that.
As for her time with Matthew, she felt as if she were living in a dream. The last thing she wished to do was return to reality tomorrow, to her job, to her stress, to her decision to stay or to go.
But then, who was she kidding? How could she ever choose to leave now, after all the work Matthew had put into helping her?
Instead of telling him her decision, however, she kept silent about it throughout their dinner at a nearby pub, centering their conversation around more trivial matters—matters that didn’t cause her to fear failing again. Because, frankly, she was enjoying this frivolous time with Matthew, so much so that she didn’t want the evening to end when their meal did. Fortunately for her, he appeared to want the same, suggesting a walk around the city walls instead of going to bed, which Winnie readily agreed to.
“I thought you said no more steps,” she said as they climbed the twenty-or-so up to the top of the walls.
“Quit your whinging,” he’d said with a smile, then he motioned for her to precede him up the stairs.
At the top of the thirteen-foot walls, Winnie marveled at the pink and purple sunset across the city, lighting up the glass windows of the minster, the brown tops of the terraced homes, and the trees that popped up across the city like green flowers blossoming from stone.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Matthew asked, motioning to the sights. “New York doesn’t hold a candle to the real York.”
Winnie had to agree.
They continued on, and Matthew took to sharing more facts about the city as they walked along the fortifications.
“They’re the longest city walls in England,” he said. “They were built in seventy-one AD, but only a small degree of stonework remains from actual Roman origin. It’s pretty amazing, though, that in the medieval times, there were already the four gatehouses that allowed traffic inside and out of the city.”
He continued for a few more minutes, then abruptly stopped with an averted gaze. “Sorry. I could obviously go on for hours about this stuff.”
“Oh, please, don’t apologize. I love listening to you talk.”
Their eyes met, and only then did she realize how ridiculous her comment had sounded, like she was fawning all over him.
“The history is fascinating,” she quickly corrected.
He nodded, though his eyes lingered on her. “No, it’s the accent. I’ve heard it can make anything boring sound entertaining.”
That was true enough. She could listen to him read Minnie’s owner’s manual, and she’d still swoon at the sound. Still, she didn’t want to risk sounding like she was throwing herself at him. She’d better tease him again. That was always the safest option.
With a shrug, she responded. “I guess that could be true. For some people. I mean, I prefer Finn’s. Northern Irish, right? But yours is nice, too, I guess.”
“Northern Irish? Over my proper English?” Matthew scoffed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“Whatever suits your pride. Now tell me more about these walls.”
Matthew swiftly obliged. With bright eyes, he continued his happy instruction, and Winnie listened with as much enthusiasm as ever until they paused on the path with the perfect view of the minster .
Matthew took a moment to catch his breath, and unfortunately, Winnie’s mind took the silence as an opportunity to wander.
There they were, walking around an ancient city’s walls with Matthew—basically breathless with how happy he was speaking of the history of the city, revealing his passion every minute—and Winnie…heartless, passionless, lifeless Winnie.
“See, now I’ve talked too much,” Matthew said. “I can see the will to live fading from your eyes.”
He’d said it as a joke, but it struck a little too close to home.
“No, it’s not you,” she said, trying to pull up her spirits like she would a pair of tights, both nearly impossible to accomplish without a strong sense of determination.
“Can I ask what it is, then?” he questioned.
Winnie hesitated. She didn’t like to voice these things aloud. It made her seem vulnerable, which she wasn’t supposed to be. But then, wasn’t that what she wanted—to be seen as human, to be treated with kindness and patience? Who was better to speak with this about than Matthew?
Winnie moved to the edge of the wall, leaning against the elbow-length height of the stone. Drawing a deep breath, she shrugged to play off how deeply her feelings really ran. “It’s nothing. I was just thinking about what you said that first time in the assembly hall. When you’d asked why do something if there wasn’t heart or passion involved.”
He joined her by the wall, leaning against it as well. “What about it?” he asked softly.
She chewed on her upper lip. “It just stuck with me, that’s all. Because…I don’t really know what it’s like to do something with my whole heart. At least, not anymore.”
“So, you’re worried about the festival?” Matthew asked, filling in the gaps she couldn’t voice aloud. “If you can put your heart into it to have greater success?”
She nodded, responding in a heavy sigh. “Pretty much. ”
He pulled his gaze to the view before them, a calming light coming across the city and quieting the busy streets.
“You haven’t failed at much, have you?” he asked.
She huffed out a laugh of derision, a bitterness rising inside of her she couldn’t silence. “On the contrary. That’s all I do—fail at things. Law school. Culinary school. Medical school. Horseback riding. Becoming a realtor. After all that, I tried business school, which I almost graduated from before starting and failing my own businesses. And now I’m even failing at consulting, which I always thought I was good at, up until two days ago. I am a hot mess with nothing going for me.”
She stopped. With Matthew’s attention focused solely on her, embarrassment flushed over her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“There’s no need to apologize,” he said at once. Then he paused. “Did you really try to do all of those things?”
“Over the years, yes. And more. All of it was a monumental waste of time.”
“I don’t know about that,” he countered. “Failing is good for us. It helps us learn each time we do.”
She looked away. “Not in the Knox family. It only makes you more of an outcast. More of a disappointment.”
Matthew was silent for a minute, and she was about to apologize for being a massive bummer again when he spoke.
“I have a confession to make,” he said softly, staring down at the wall they leaned against.
She waited, wondering what on earth he had to admit to now.
“My dad told me a bit about your family,” he said. “Mostly your own father, who has very high standards as to what constitutes an accomplishment.”
Winnie wasn’t surprised Mr. Wintour was talking about her and her dad. In fact, she might have already expected such a thing to occur. After all, Mr. Wintour must be no stranger to Dad’s ridiculous criteria.
“That’s why I was asking about your family earlier,” Matthew continued. “I didn’t want to assume that I knew the truth without hearing it coming from your own mouth.”
Despite their topic of conversation, Winnie’s heart softened. How much more admirable could Matthew get?
“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m sorry if my bringing up your family earlier has produced more of these feelings in you.”
“Thank you,” she said, “but you didn’t cause this. It’s been there all along.”
He nodded, looking toward the minster again. “For the record, I don’t think you failed at the festival or at being a consultant. Just because one event didn’t go entirely as planned doesn’t make it out to be a failure.”
“You might be right,” she said, validating his words. But something else chipped away at the peace she’d felt that day, the peace she so desperately wanted to bring back. “But that’s just the thing. I have no real passion for consulting. Sure, I love helping people. I love seeing the growth that comes when good advice is taken. And I love finding creative ways to improve businesses. But all of that is surface level. Definitely not enough to move the dial of passion.”
Matthew nodded, seeming to think about her comments before responding. “Can I ask how you came to be a consultant?”
“I’m sure you can guess. It was my dad’s doing. After all my failed attempts pursuing other career paths, I thought I’d start a few businesses. Each one failed in the end, whether it was selling wholesale on Amazon, opening up an ice cream restaurant, or putting up custom blinds. I found out that I knew exactly what not to do when running a business, so I started reaching out to people, giving free advice here and there about their businesses and finding relative success.
“Anyway, Dad told me about a friend of his in New York who owed him a favor. I was hired and ended up doing a fine enough job because the pressure wasn’t there to make my own business work. Dad saw this, then pushed me to follow the career because it was the first time I’d actually been okay at something he approved of. I didn’t really want to, but it was time I stopped embarrassing my family.”
“Embarrassing your family or your dad?” Matthew asked.
She thought for a minute. “I guess just my dad.”
Matthew laced his fingers together as he leaned them over the side of the wall. “Have you ever tried to embrace your failures, see them for what they are?”
“I know what they are. Evidence of my flaws.”
“No, they’re not,” he returned softly. “Failures are merely stepping-stones propelling you towards the person you’re meant to be. I’m sure you know that a person learns more from failing than by succeeding.”
“Yeah, but it’s a heck of a lot less painful to succeed.”
He cracked a smile. “I’ll give you that.” Then he peered down at her, his features softening. “You ought to give yourself a break, Winnie. Believe in yourself. My dad does. That’s why he gave you a second chance.” He leaned in closer to her, his shoulder and arm pressing against hers. “ I believe in you, too.”
Winnie could hardly breathe, the warmth from his touch seeping through their jackets and swirling around her soul. He was leaning into her on purpose. He was lingering on purpose. Was that to drive home his words? Or did he touch her because he wanted to be close to her—because he felt the same stirring in his heart that she did?
She swallowed, unable to keep her eyes from his any longer. Slowly, she looked up at him, meeting his gaze.
“All you need is to believe in yourself now,” Matthew whispered, his eyes flicking between hers before ultimately settling on her lips.
Moments ticked by. Winnie’s heart sputtered like Minnie’s exhaust.
They were on a business trip.
A business trip.
They were coworkers.
Coworkers .
But the words echoed meaninglessly in her mind now, no longer holding any power over her—Unlike Matthew. The words he’d said to her, the help he’d given her that day, the way he’d made her feel alive for the first time since she was a teenager—all of it had rendered her incapable of withstanding his goodness. She’d never experienced that with anyone before. And she couldn’t keep herself from him any longer. She needed to experience his kiss. She needed him .
In the waning light of the sun, she waited until he finally leaned toward her. Her eyes closed, and she drew in what little breath she could as he inched closer. She could almost feel the soft tickle of his beard on her lips and the gentle breath from his nose on her cheek, as if they were already kissing. So why were they not?
Slowly, she opened an eye, then two.
The hesitation on Matthew’s brow was enough to yank her from the dream that might’ve been the best she’d ever had. She leaned back, snapping her gaze away and pulling their shoulders apart.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she responded. As if he was the only one to blame.
“No, I…” Matthew hesitated, pulling out his phone. “I just remembered, I think the gates close at sundown.”