Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Whitney let Matthew lead her down the path to the gardens.
“I want to show you one of my favorite places on the grounds. Even when it was hot and muggy, I could sit or play for hours under this tree until my father finished for the day.”
They walked quietly. “Back, then,” he said, “this seemed like the biggest tree in the universe. I’ve grown a little since that first visit. It’s not quite as impressive as my memories, but this is a really special spot to me.” He reached for her hand.
She pressed her fingers into his palm as they stepped off the path.
“This way.” He stooped to clear the huge sagging limbs of the tree.
Whitney was in awe of the massive tree, spreading her arms as wide as she could hug and it didn’t compare. “This tree is so big around, how many rings do you think there’d be if it were chopped down? It’s got to be old.”
“I bet one of the arborists on staff could tell us.” He dropped the canvas picnic bag from his shoulder and pulled a thin sheet from the side pocket.
She helped him spread it out on the ground.
“Are you sure we’re not going to get into trouble?” She looked around nervously as he began to unpack the contents. They were a little concealed, but not completely, and it seemed a bit like trespassing to her. “Can we just camp out right here in the middle of the garden?”
“Sure. Sit.” He patted the grass next to him.
She sat and lifted her hair from her neck. “It’s got to be ten degrees cooler in the shade. Feels good under here.”
He took a bottle of sparkling apple cider from the basket and handed her two short, plastic, crystal-cut cups.
“That’s the cider you were telling me about?” A gentle breeze swept between them.
“It is.” Matthew reached for the bottle, but as soon as he began to remove the cap, it unexpectedly flew off, sending a stream of sparkling cider into the air and splattering Whitney and their lunch.
Matthew sat there in shock. “That never happens! I’m sorry.”
Whitney sat wide-eyed, her hands in the air and mouth agape.
He couldn’t believe it. It was a sticky, fizzy mess.
Then Whitney started laughing and lifting the cups. “Is there any left?”
“Not much.” He tipped the bottle, managing to split a respectable bit of it anyway.
Matthew unloaded the rest of the contents and spread them out. “Looks like most of the food survived.”
“What is it with us and getting wet? First a random storm, and now a cider explosion.”
“I have no idea, but it’s beginning to make me wonder too.” Just as he’d promised, he’d packed all the sandwich fixings they needed and even some pickles. A cheese board tucked into the front pocket of the canvas tote served as their platter.
He assembled the sandwich, then cut it into four pieces for them to share.
While nibbling the sandwiches, they enjoyed the lush scenery around them.
“So are you going to give me the down-low on this big creative process for our dates now?” she asked.
“As good a time as any. Each time we come back, you spin the doohickey as you called it?—”
“Technical term,” she corrected.
“Yes, of course. So you’ll spin to see which number on the map we’ll visit on each subsequent visit.”
“What if I land on one of the numbers we’ve already visited? Like if I spin a seven again next time?”
“Oh, well, you can earn another spin. It just costs a kiss.”
“I see,” she said, not looking displeased with the prospect. “You know, I’m smart enough to know the more often we come, the more likely it is that I’m going to have to have to respin for me to get one of the numbers we haven’t already hit.”
“I’m counting on that.” He chose his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all week long. That respin clause is pretty creative, isn’t it? What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She looked dismissive. “What if you’re a horrible kisser?”
“I’m not a horrible kisser,” he insisted.
She shrugged. “Occupational hazard. I’m an attorney. I don’t believe anything without proo?—”
He stopped her mid-sentence by pressing his lips to hers. They melted into one another, him pulling her bottom lip into his mouth, and ever so gently kissing her.
His heart pounded, and her sweet scent made him dizzy.
She didn’t pull away, and he couldn’t let go. He let his hand fall to her shoulder, then skimmed her cheek.
Gentle, yet eager, the kiss fired off feelings and excitement that felt so right.
Taking a deep breath, he looked into her eyes for a sign that she’d felt the same thing he’d just experienced.
Intensity lingered in the air.
She blew out a breath. “That was really nice.”
He cleared his throat. “Exhibit A, counselor.”
“Well, Mural Guy, this exhibit provides irrefutable evidence supporting your argument in the area of adept kissing and directly corroborates my hopes in this case.” She paused, biting down on the edge of her bottom lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss like that.”
“Maybe it was the cider?” he teased.
“I don’t think so.” Her cheeks reddened.
He leaned in and whispered, “Does that mean you’re okay with spinning the wheel for those future dates?”
“So many times,” she admitted.
“I’m really happy to hear that.” He dropped a playful peck on her cheek. “You are sweeter than any dessert. I can’t believe we’ve lived in this same city for years and are just now finally getting to know each other.”
“Me neither, but it’s been worth the wait.” She took a sip of her cider. “This is really nice.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
A couple walked by. “Y’all found the perfect spot to picnic,” the woman said.
“Thank you. I couldn’t agree more,” he called.
Another couple a few steps behind must’ve heard the comment. “We’re getting married in the Italian garden next summer,” the brunette woman said. “We just booked it.”
The woman who’d continued on along the path spun in delight and raced back to the woman. “You’re kidding. Congratulations. This is the most beautiful place for a wedding. Under the pergola?”
The bride-to-be squealed, bouncing with unbridled enthusiasm. “Yes! It’s been my dream since I was a little girl.”
“Congratulations,” Matthew yelled to her. “If I hadn’t exploded our bottle of sparkling cider, we’d celebrate with a cup with you.”
“It’s the thought that counts. Thanks!” The girl waved, hugging her fiancé’s arm and beaming as the two women continued to chat.
Whitney slipped her shoes off and wiggled her toes in the cool grass. “That’s sweet. They are so excited.”
“Pretty special,” he agreed.
“I wish I’d brought your list with us,” Whitney said. “I’m so curious about all the other things here now. I had no idea this place was so sprawling.”
“Does that mean you’re looking forward to coming back?”
“Definitely.” She leaned in, and the moment was quiet and special until all of a sudden someone shouted Whitney’s name.
“Whitney Winters!”
Whitney shot straight up. The brunette who just a moment ago had announced her upcoming wedding plans jogged up the path toward them.
“I thought that was you,” the woman said. “I hoped you’d still be here. It took me a minute to put your face and name together, and then it was there. How are you?”
It could’ve been her brain was still in almost-a-kiss heaven, but Whitney didn’t recognize the woman. She pushed her hair back behind her ear, a nervous habit, and hoped her memory would kick in. “Yes. Hi.”
“When we walked by I told Joey—Joey, I think that was my divorce attorney.”
Whitney wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, it seems things are going your way.”
“Yes. As I mentioned, we just booked the venue. This is my fiancé, Joey.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Joey looked embarrassed, and she felt for him. She was struggling with the moment as well. She glanced over at Matthew, who seemed to have already figured out she was clueless as to who the person was.
Matthew climbed to his feet and reached for Joey’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Whitney’s friend, Matthew. Congratulations.” They shook hands. “Who is your beautiful bride-to-be?”
Joey’s love for the woman was easy to see. “My fiancé, Brooke Daniels.”
“Nice to meet you, Brooke.” Matthew cast the tiniest side glance toward Whitney.
Whitney loved that he’d done that, and without a cue. “Brooke, that is so exciting. Congratulations.” Happiness overcame her, because the Brooke she remembered looked tired and not nearly as young and vibrant during her divorce, and that was a few years ago.
She hugged Joey’s arm tight. “I’ve never been this happy. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
“How long have you been together?” Whitney couldn’t help herself. The words slipped right off her tongue.
“Three years. We’ve been through all the seasons. I took my time, trusted the journey. Whitney, you were so much more than just a divorce attorney. I was in such a rotten place during that divorce. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through it without you.”
“You would’ve been fine. And look. You’ve found true happiness.”
“I used to tell Joey when we first met that if it weren’t for you, we never would’ve met.”
The comment made the sandwich she’d just eaten drop like a rock in Whitney’s gut.
“She did,” he agreed.
“No. Really. It wasn’t me. This is your journey. Your path.”
Brooke said, “If it hadn’t been for you getting me out of that marriage, I would’ve never been free to meet someone like Joey.”
“Well, ours wasn’t like the author who met her fiancé in your office,” Joey clarified. “But I did first meet Brooke the night she was celebrating getting her divorce papers. I saw her with a group of ladies sitting across the room, no idea she’d just gotten divorced, and thought to myself, that woman is my future wife.”
“It was so random. I wasn’t interested in ever getting into another relationship after that divorce. Plus, I didn’t know he was in town on business and leaving the next morning. We danced all night long?—”
“And then I left town to go back home,” Joey said. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about her.”
“He came back a few times that year. Then he flew me up to see him.”
“And I finally got my transfer to the Richmond office.”
“That’s when things came together. We knew.” Happiness floated among the words.
“We knew,” he echoed, and they got lost in each other’s gaze for a weirdly uncomfortable moment.
Whitney processed the continuing congo line of lovers who seemed to think they got lucky because of her.
Brooke wriggled in excitement. “Are you going to be on the show too?”
“What show?” There was that sinking feeling in her gut again.
“The local network affiliate is doing a show. They invited us, well me, to come and share our story too. Ours isn’t nearly as good as Kally’s, but she’s famous, so probably everything works out better for her.”
Panic rose in Whitney’s chest, making it hard to choke out the words. “This is the first I’ve heard about a show.”
“I’m surprised. They asked if I knew you, and of course I told them you were my attorney and how much I adore you. You got me through the worst time in my life. All of it. I just assumed you’d be there.”
Joey interjected, “Oh, and we’ve got an appointment with you next month for the prenup. Brooke went on and on about that from the day I met her, that she’d never get remarried without one.”
“That’s good. Not saying you’ll ever need it, but it’s the best way to go into the relationship. Sort of like carrying an umbrella to be sure you don’t get caught in the rain,” she teased.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Brooke said. “We aren’t getting married until next April.”
“But we don’t have plenty of time right now. We’ve gotta run.” Joey pointed to his watch. “We have dinner plans with our folks—to share the big news.”
“I’m so happy for you,” said Whitney, and Matthew chimed in with a congratulations too.
“It was fun to see you.” Brooke bounced, hanging on to Joey’s arm. “Thanks for celebrating us.”
“You bet. Best wishes.”
Matthew and Whitney stood looking at each other. She was trying so hard to hold it together. “Matthew, I think I might cry.”
“What? The show?”
“My father is livid over this whole social media thing. Carina and I just assured him everything was fine.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s not.”
“It’s social media. He has to know half of that is people acting up to get attention. It’s not like you broke the law.”
“You don’t understand. Our firm is built on generations of stuffy old men with rules and expectations, and it might not seem like a big deal, but it is. It’s pretty much a miracle he was able to get the partners to agree to let me and Carina restart the family law part of the business. They’re kind of snobby and old school, and they don’t do well with change.”
“I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“I don’t know. Our firm is up for the International Licensing Law Firm of Virginia award this year. It’s a big deal for us, and this mess could ruin it. He’ll never forgive me if this makes the news. It might seem funny and harmless, but it’s not. This is my life. It’s serious to my family.”
“I hear you. I understand.” Matthew placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, look at me. First, I kind of doubt your dad could ever get that mad at you.”
She slowly shook her head. “You don’t know my father.”
“Maybe you should check in with the station and inquire about the the story. See exactly what the angle is. You have a right to know.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” She sighed.
“Maybe you weren’t invited for that segment because they know what a far-fetched premise the whole thing is. Doesn’t Kally Whats-her-name have a new book out? She’s probably working some media coverage. It may have nothing to do with you, except for the part where she thoughtlessly added you into the frenzy by tossing your name into the video.”
“There’s that. I wish. It’s like this just won’t go away.”
“I get it.” He pressed his hand to her arm. “No one is going to think you’re some kind of modern day matchmaker. You’re an attorney handling a divorce. It’s a process, and then people move on. You’re not doing weird marriage voodoo and handing out a secret potion.”
“Who would’ve believed ten years ago that people would be making drunken videos and posting for the world to see? It’s anyone’s guess what they’ll believe, or remember.”
“Good point, and that could work in your favor. It’s name recognition, even if they don’t remember why or where they heard your name.”
She nodded, trying to smile, but the worried look on her face was hard to hide.
“I know one of the anchors at that affiliate,” Matthew said. “Let me call him. Maybe he can give you some advice.”
“What would I say? Hello, I’m Whitney Winters, and I was a trending hashtag. Can we chat?”
“That actually sounds way sexier than it is.” He stepped closer. “I don’t know what else to suggest. The way I see it, I sort of owe you. That’s the second outfit of yours I’ve ruined since we met.”
She relaxed, looking a little less panicked.
“Start dialing,” she said.
With no hesitation, he pulled out his phone and placed the call. “Hey, Daniel. It’s Matthew McMahon. Yeah, I’ve been good. I need a favor…”