by K Leigh
“What, his urge for a genuine connection?” I snort. “Definitely.”
We stare at each other in silence for a moment, both refusing to look away.
The realization of what she’s claiming hits me full force. Would my parents have lied to me my whole life? And Aunt Natalie and I have always been close. Best friends. Yet she hadn’t ever mentioned Matt to me or anything about her summer with him. Doubt slithers into my mind, taking hold of me. Could they really have done this, even down to changing my birthday?
The elevator interrupts our staredown and Antoinette’s face pales as heavy footsteps hit the foyer.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He enters the sitting area, eyes widening at my presence. “Oh, Lia. You both missed my speech?” The disappointment etched in his features reminds me of his confession about his parents. Never having time for him, buying him whatever he wanted in order to keep him busy.
“Prescott, we got to talking and lost track of time. Girl talk, you know.” Antoinette giggles.
I clench my jaw at the use of his first name. Those two syllables seem like a prison cell to me, trapping him in a web of all the things he despised about himself.
Then again, he made the choice. Why should I feel empathy for him?
“I better be going, Miss Cunningham.” I nod toward Matt. “Mr. Rochester.”
“Did you see the rest of the exhibits? There’s a gorgeous painting you should view before you go. Or, you come back tomorrow?”
“I’m just in town for the day.” I make a disappointed face, gathering my purse and camera bag as I stand.
I hurry toward the elevator, my heart pounding in my ears. I repeatedly jab the button to call the elevator, taking deep breaths. Fiddling with the strap of my bag, I wonder how such a well-off business has such a slow elevator.
“Lia.” Matt rushes to my side at an easy pace. “What’s the deal? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. My apologies if I did so.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “I just needed some air. You didn’t do anything.”
The elevator beep announces its arrival.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks. “I just…you seem upset.”
“I’m fine. I just have a long bus ride ahead of me,” I respond, holding the elevator button so it won’t escape again.
“The bus? Where do you live?” He seems appalled at the thought, and to be honest, my family would be too. It’s quite late, and there could be unsavory company. I have pepper spray, though.
“A few hours south,” I reply.
“At least let me walk you to the bus stop. I promise I’m not trying to be a weirdo, but it’s already dark. I can’t have it on my conscious that I just let you head out on your own so late at night.”
“Fine,” I agree. It is getting late and I’d rather not be alone in the big city. Matt might be a stranger, but his company’s better than none.
“Antoinette, I’ll be back,” he calls behind him. We step into the elevator and I don’t glance back. I can feel the daggers Antoinette’s staring into my back.
We make conversation as we walk, Matt filling me in on all of the sights we pass.
“How old are you again?” Matt asks as we make our way down the sidewalk.
“I just graduated high school. I’ll be eighteen at the end of the summer.”
“Oh, man.” Matt throws his head back with a belly laugh. “What an amazing age. The summer after high school changed my life forever.” His smile fades into a somber expression, the streetlights only illuminating his sadness.
“It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure,” I agree. “I spend most of my time working, though.”
“Working?” he asks.
Hesitantly, I reply, “My family and I have a wedding venue. My aunt and I are the photographers.”
“You take photography seriously, I see.” He jerks his head backward. “This company isn’t my dream job. More of an obligation. Photography has always been my passion.”
“Matt, you should follow your dreams.” We come to a stop in front of the bus station and I dig in my backpack for my ticket. “You only live once. You have to do what makes your heart happy.”
Hiking my bag up on my shoulder, I hold my hand out to his. “It was nice meeting you.”
He shakes it slowly, watching me with a peculiar expression. “You as well, Lia. Safe travels.”
I wave to him from my seat on the bus, turning away as he becomes a blurry object.
I didn’t ask him any of the things I had traveled here to find out. Antoinette’s presence ruined the whole trip. After her accusations about my parentage and remarks that I was only here for his money, I want nothing more than to go home.
I think she’s full of shit. I know in my heart that her claims are untrue. I think you have a sixth sense about those types of things. And Matt really seemed like he felt like a prisoner in his own life. Stepping into his exhibit was like stepping into another time and place. His safe haven, if you will, surrounded by pictures I’d never seen, but read about.
The entire bus ride home goes by in a blur as I wallow in my disappointment. Even my quick walk home is over before I know it.
Sneaking back into the house is something I’ve never done before. I’ve never had to do it. I’ve always been honest about my comings and goings.
“Have a good day?” My dad greets me from the kitchen table. He sits with his hands folded, two empty mugs in front of him.
Dropping my bag on the couch, I make my way to the kitchen and slide into a chair. He grabs the decanter on the table and pours steaming hot chocolate into our mugs.
The sweet aroma reminds me of my late-night talks with Natalie. As if he read my mind, he says, “I know this is your thing with Natalie, but it felt like the right thing to make.”
The mug warms my hands as I take a sip. I feel his eyes on me as I swallow. My dad knows me. He knows when I’m up to something.
“So, what did you do today?” I interrupt the silence.
He blows on his drink before taking a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “Made some excellent hot chocolate, for one.”
“Agreed.” I sip my own through pursed lips, savoring the warmth sliding down my throat. I imagine it seeping into my skin, opening me up to pour my heart out.
“And what did you do today, Lia?”
Lying has never been a necessity for me, and it’s not something I want to start doing now. But the idea of asking my dad if Antoinette’s accusations are true sends a stabbing pain right through my chest.
“I went to D.C. for the day. To visit a gallery.” Deciding to stick with a skeleton of the truth seems to be the safest course of action.
I expected him to freak out a little bit, but his face remains passive. “How did you get to the city?”
“I took a Greyhound.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, but otherwise, shows no change in expression. “Alone?”
“Yes.” I down the last of the contents of my mug, the glass screeching in protest as I move it across the table.
His deep inhalation worries me. My dad has never been the disciplinarian parent; that’s always been Mom’s spot. His displeasure surrounds me in waves, his hands clenched around his mug so tightly I’m afraid it may break.
“Daddy.” I close the distance between our hands, moving the mug a safe distance away and holding his fingers in mine.
“Lia.” He sighs. “I’m not angry. Just worried. It’s not like you to run away, no note, nothing. I know you’re technically an adult, but if something were to happen to you, I could never forgive myself. You’re my baby girl.”
“Am I?” The question spills from my lips before I can stop it.
“What do you mean, are you? Of course you are. No matter how old you get, you’ll always be my little girl.” He wraps both of his hands around mine. “Next time you decide to run away for the day, at least text me that you’re okay.”
“I will, Dad.”
A c
reaking on the stairs startles us both and I turn to see my mom making her way toward us, wrapped in her fluffy robe. She sits beside me, kissing my forehead before leaning back in her chair.
If Natalie had told them about my school decision, they would have confronted me by now. Taking a deep breath, I decide it’s now or never.
As she takes the seat beside me, I open my mouth to spill out the truth of my plans for the fall.
27
Matt
Present
To: Prescott Rochester III
From: Lia Winegar
This could be an awkward email, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t send it. I came to D.C. to see you, not your art gallery. This summer, I found a picture of you and my aunt, Natalie, and a journal depicting your time together. No one in my family has ever mentioned you, so I had to find out what the deal was for myself. I don’t know what happened with you guys and I’m not sure why Natalie pretends like you don’t exist, but I think you should see her again before you marry Antoinette. I’ve attached the link to our website.
Lia
The first time I saw Natalie, she didn’t see me, and there’s still something poetic as fuck about that. She always claimed I was more important to her than she was to me, but that’s ridiculous.
When I pulled into the parking lot that day, I was pissed. My parents and I had been arguing about eligible bachelorettes for me to wine and dine when I returned home. I wanted nothing more than an escape, and there she was. Leaning back in the chair, staring out over the lake as if she could see a world invisible to the rest of us.
When I pull into the driveway of Journey’s Farm, I’m struck with a familiar pang. The winding pavement isn’t all that different from the gravel parking lot, but I don’t know what I’ll find at the end of this path. When Lia emailed me and invited me to visit their wedding venue, I almost didn’t consider it. Then the idea of seeing her again buried in my chest, its roots growing at an alarming rate. After checking out the website, I decided I would visit with the premise of checking out the venue for my bride. It wasn’t truly a possibility, though. The photos of Natalie’s venue were breathtaking, but Antoinette would never want to marry on a farm in the middle of nowhere, no matter how popular the venue was in the wedding community.
When I saw the address—Branch Key— the summer I’ve kept a lock on for the past eighteen years came flooding back to me. The temptation of seeing her again was too great to resist.
Locking my car with the remote, I survey the area. I can’t help but be curious about Natalie’s life now. I haven’t seen her in almost two decades. I even refrained from looking her up online or on social media. I wanted to, more than anything. But all I ever brought into Natalie’s life was pain. Hell, it’s selfish of me to even be here now.
But does it really matter? She won’t remember me anyway.
“Hey there.” Natalie greets me from the wraparound porch. She leans on the rail, the blonde in her once completely red hair glistening in the sunlight. “Welcome to Journey’s Farm.”
“Happy to be here.” Ignoring the tightening in my chest, I urge my lungs to work and my heart to keep beating.
Antoinette never elicits this reaction from me. Our arrangement is purely to produce an heir for our families. I refused to marry her for almost two decades, but I finally gave in when my mother begged me on her deathbed. Just my luck, I agree right before I find Natalie again.
I could stand here and stare at her forever, but she’s watching me with an amused smile, and I realize she had spoken.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I refocus my attention.
“What can I do for ya?” she repeats.
“I saw your farm online, wanted to come and check it out. I’m Prescott.” I watch for even the slightest flicker of familiarity, but her smile stays trained in her people-pleasing smile.
“I’m Natalie Winegar. I own the place. Come on up, we’ll chat a minute and then take a tour.”
She motions for me to join her on the porch. The steps up to her are the longest I’ve ever taken in my life, but I finally stand in front of Natalie. I’m so close to her I can smell her shampoo, just like when she showered next to me that first morning at camp.
Our eyes meet and her gaze falters for a moment as she looks into my eyes, but she shakes her head and moves on. “Have a seat. I’ve got some lemonade if you’re thirsty. Or sweet tea.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” The chair shrieks in protest as I scoot it back and she takes a seat in front of me.
“So, you must be getting married.” She stretches her legs out with a wince, and I wonder if she feels pain regularly. I wonder if she’s fallen in love, if she has any kids. Her ring finger is bare, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t found some semblance of happiness.
“That obvious?” I chuckle, silently reprimanding myself for getting distracted again.
“Yeah, you looked lost wandering up the driveway,” she comments. “No bride with you today?”
“No, she had some obligations.” I shrug. “I volunteered to check out a few places.”
“Have a date set yet?” Natalie pulls out her phone. As she swipes the screen, I catch a glimpse of her screensaver, a photo of Lia in a graduation robe. I had gathered they were close.
“She wants a Christmas wedding. Early December.” Not what I want, but then again, what do I care? It’s all for show anyway.
“Oh, that’ll be lovely.” Natalie begins typing on her phone as we talk. I’d be offended if I hadn’t seen her open a document. “I have one Saturday left in December.”
“You’re booked that far in advance?” The surprise in my voice annoys her. I see it flash across her face before she masks it with a calm smile. The feisty side of Natalie almost emerged, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have enjoyed it.
“Yes, sir. People come from all over the country to our venue. I’ve even had a few international weddings.” She doesn’t seem boastful, just proud of her accomplishments. I’m proud of her as well. And it’s selfish, but I want to take a bit of credit. I helped cultivate her photography skills, after all.
“How about that tour?” Natalie pushes her chair back from the table. “Let me put these dishes away and grab my keys.”
I rise to my feet as she does, and for the first time since arriving, I notice her plate and the remnants of a sandwich.
“Grilled cheese?” I ask, noting the perfect brown edges.
“It’s my house specialty.” Her giggle echoes in my mind long after her she disappears inside the house.
Making my way over to the rail, I lean against it and survey Natalie’s farm. The barn, the pond, the ridges of the honeymoon cabin’s roof; all of it even more beautiful than it was on the website.
The crunching of tires on gravel distracts me as a pickup truck pulls in beside my car, a construction company logo emblazoned on the side. It occurs to me that Natalie had seemed to be waiting on someone, and as the towering man ducks out of his truck and stops short at the sight of me on the porch, I connect the dots.
His footsteps seem to thunder around me, and when he stops beside me, I realize he’s over a foot taller than me.
“Hey there.” He offers me his hand, a friendly smile spreading across his face. “I’m Leo.”
“Matt,” I say without thinking. I haven’t been Matt in years. I didn’t even introduce myself to Natalie as Matt. I take his hand, trying not to cringe at his tight grip. “I’m touring the venue.”
“Oh, you won’t find a better place than Nat’s,” Leo responds. The comfort with which he says her name sends my stomach into knots. My throat suddenly feels dry and I wish I’d taken Natalie up on that lemonade.
“We’re looking at a Christmas wedding.” I tuck my hands in my pockets. “Well, my fiancé is. I’m just here to nod my head in agreement,” I joke, and Leo laughs with a shake of his head.
“I know what you mean.” His glance to the door of the house doesn’t escape me.
; “How long have you two been married?” I ask, the words burning my tongue. Can he hear my bitterness? Because I can taste it.
“Oh, we’re not married.” Leo’s face flushes. “Just old friends.”
“I just assumed, I’m sorry,” I reply. Although, I’m really not sorry. I’m exuberant. Which is selfish, really. And wrong. Natalie isn’t mine anymore—if she ever was in the first place.
“No harm. Most do.” Leo claps my shoulder and my knees nearly buckle. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of his strength. He seems like a gentle giant, but I’d bet anything he can get fiery.
“Sorry it took me so long.” Natalie steps out of the house, the door clanging shut behind her. “My niece had a million questions.” She notices I’m not alone on the porch. When she sees Leo, her face lights up. “Leo! I wondered when you’d be here. I’ve got your grilled cheese ready.”
She motions to both of us to follow her, so I find myself trailing behind Leo and Natalie into her house. I can’t help but look around. I want to see how she decorates, if her photographs are hanging on the walls, what book is by her bed.
Okay, that last one may be a bit much.
She grabs a to-go box from the kitchen table. “Four grilled cheese sandwiches, just the way you like them.”
Leo takes them, holding the box to his heart with a serene expression. “Nectar from the gods. Thank you, Nat. My mom will love them.” He turns from Natalie and sticks his hand out to me. “Good luck on the tour, Matt. It was nice to meet you.”
A loud crash causes both of us to jump. Looking over, Natalie stands over a pile of broken glass that was once her sweet tea decanter.
“Sorry.” She shakes her head, leaning on the counter to brace herself. “It slipped out of my hand.”
“I’ll help her clean up before we look around,” I reassure Leo, who was about to set his box back on the counter. “You better get those to your mama while they’re warm.”
“No, she won’t mind.” He moves gracefully despite his size, reaching beside the refrigerator for the broom and dustpan. “Help her sit down.”