Chocolate for Two (12 page)

A couple hours later we pulled up in front of the Breakers.

“Are you kidding me?” I whispered under my breath. When Jake’s mom had first mentioned the name
Breakers
at dinner on Friday, I had thought
quaint surfside inn
. I clearly should have changed my expectations after seeing her house last night, but for some reason I hadn’t done so.

This was no “quaint seaside inn.”

Think more like “sprawling oceanside resort.”

“You ready?” Jake asked me as we got out of the car.

I saluted, then reached for his hand. “Let’s do it.”

I soon learned that the Breakers is widely considered to be the poshest hotel in Southern Florida. It looks straight out over the Atlantic Ocean—and straight out of a movie. After strolling through countless gardens and courtyards, a Mediterranean-style beach club, and multiple oceanfront pools, followed by visits to multiple fitness centers, a deluxe spa, several boutiques, restaurants, and bars, then topped off by tours of a couple tennis courts and an
enormous
golf course, I was wiped out. Talk about luxury.

An hour or so later we said good-bye to our guide in the ornate lobby, which was adjacent to an open-air courtyard. The tour leader had mentioned that many couples hold their wedding ceremonies in the courtyard instead of the church on the adjacent property. When he was gone, I tilted my head back and admired the Italian Renaissance architecture.

“So, what do you think?” Jake said, now that we were finally alone.

I looked at him. “Honestly?”

“Honestly. If it’s too much, you can tell me.”

I sighed and tilted my head backward again. “I think I want to live here,” I whispered to a painting on the ceiling.

He laughed. “But can you see us getting married here?”

I sighed. “I don’t even want to
know
what that would cost.”

He shook his head. “My parents would take care of it.”

I looked at him. “What?”

“My parents want to pay for the wedding.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. We both knew my father couldn’t afford to help.

Jake put his hands on my shoulders and turned me so that I was facing him. “The only question you need to answer is, ‘Do you
want
to get married here?’”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Do I want you to become my husband here?’”

He laughed. “So noted.”

I sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. “I really wanted a small wedding this time…but…” My voice trailed off.

“But what?”

I took his hand and led him over to a plush couch. When we sat down, I told him about my conversation with his dad at the dock.

After I’d finished, I put my hand on his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that your mom almost died before you were born?” Jake knew I’d lost my mom before I ever got to know her. Why hadn’t he told me that he nearly had too? It didn’t make any sense.

He didn’t reply.

I kept my hand on his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me, Jake?”

Finally he looked at me. He brushed a loose piece of hair out of my eyes and hesitated before speaking.

“Because she lived.”

“What?”

“Because she
lived
, Waverly. Your mom died, and mine lived.”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

Oh.

He scratched the back of his head. “I just didn’t see the point of telling you…when it would only remind you of what you lost. I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“
That’s
why you didn’t tell me?” I felt a few tears slide down my cheeks.

He nodded and wiped them away. “I would never want to do anything that would bring you pain.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Plus it happened before I was born, so it’s not like I was traumatized or anything. I thought it would be extremely selfish of me to compare my situation to yours.”

I felt more tears on their way as I was overcome by what I felt for this wonderful person sitting next to me.

I gazed over at the open courtyard, so sunny and airy and bright that it looked…alive.

I turned to face Jake.

“Your dad really named his boat after Father McMillan?”

He nodded. “He’s a good man.”

“He’s that important to your family? Like really important?”

“To my parents, yes. To me and Brett and Nat, he’s like…a favorite uncle.”

I pressed my palms against my eyes.
Uncle. Brother. Sister. Mother.
They were all things I’d never had. Growing up I’d had my dad, and I didn’t doubt that he’d done the best he could to raise me on his own, but sometimes trying to understand what it was like to be part of a traditional family was like trying to imagine having a third arm.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and took Jake’s hands in mine.

“Let’s do it. Let’s get married here. By Father McMillan.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Waverly, are you absolutely sure that’s what
you
want? I don’t want you to do this for me.”

I looked at the courtyard again. “If we can have the ceremony here and not at the church, then yes, that’s what I want.”

He gave me a brief look that indicated he wasn’t entirely convinced, but then he smiled. “My mom is going to flip out.”

I smiled back. “I know.”

“Okay, then, let’s do it.”

I stood up to leave, but he caught me on the way. He leaned over and whispered into my ear. “And you wonder why I’m so in love with you.”

I blushed and reached for my purse, unsure what to say.

As we walked hand in hand back to the car, I tried to ignore the churning I felt in my stomach.

“You want something to eat?” Jake gestured toward the crowded food court.

I grinned and nodded like a bobblehead doll. “Given the ladylike weekend I’ve just had, I’d
kill
for some fries, extra ketchup, and a beer—large, please.”

“How about I get the beers and you get the fries, and I’ll meet you at our seats?” He handed me a ticket.

I saluted. “Sounds like a plan.”

We split up, and soon I had a large carton of fries in my hand. I looked up at the signs as I made my way through the arena, trying to locate the correct entrance to our section.

I made my way down the stairs to our seats, which were practically on the court. Jake was already there and handed me an enormous beer as I sat down. The players were being introduced in the middle of the court, surrounded by cheerleaders who were dancing to extremely loud music. I leaned over to Jake and shouted. “These seats are amazing! If a fight breaks out, there’s a good chance one of us is getting a broken schnoz!”

He laughed and took a sip of his beer. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“I’m serious Jake, maybe we should have brought rain jackets.”

“Rain jackets? Why?”

“Because once these guys start running up and down the court, we’re totally going to get sprayed with sweat.”

I did my best to watch the game, but eventually I lost interest and pulled out my phone to text Andie. I’d long ago given up texting McKenna, whose inbox was basically a black hole.

Wedding date set. Feb 18, Palm Beach. Probably fancy.

A return text popped up a few minutes later.

WHAT. THE. EFF?

I laughed and typed a quick reply.

CHANGE. OF. HEART.

She pinged me right back:

WHO. ARE. YOU? WHERE. IS. WAVERLY?

A flurried exchange of messages followed. I did my best to convince her—and myself—that I was thrilled about the plan. In the most decorative language I could think of, I also told her about the ritzy engagement party, the ritzy Breakers Hotel, the general ritziness of Palm Beach.

I was about to press
SEND
on my latest message when a new one popped up on my screen.

It was from Scotty Ryan.

Sweetheart, you’re on national television, on the network that employs you. Will you please get your pretty nose out of your phone and at least PRETEND to watch the game?

I dropped my phone into my lap and hoped my jaw didn’t drop noticeably too.

Oh, frick.

I looked up and around me.

I’m on TV?

This game is on NBC?

I smiled and started to clap, but then I noticed that the court was empty for a time-out. I looked up at the clock.

The game was almost over, and the score was tied.

Oops.

When I arrived at the staff meeting at
Love, Wendy
the next morning, my head was still a thousand miles away. I’d only been out of town for three days, but given how much had happened in those seventy-two hours, it felt more like three years.

I walked into the empty conference room carrying a latte and bagel from the breakfast cart right outside our building. I was early, so I sat down and pulled out my phone to scroll through my messages, trying to catch up on everything. Despite the chaos inherent in juggling two nontraditional jobs, I enjoyed having an unconventional schedule. I don’t know if it was attention deficit disorder or just an allergy to boredom, but I couldn’t tolerate the idea of doing the same thing day in and day out. I was scattered and often exhausted, but I loved my life.

I was reading an e-mail from Paige when Justin Wagner, our new producer, walked in. A few months earlier, NBC had brought him on to replace Scotty Ryan, our original producer (and good friend of mine), who was taking on an expanded role at the
Today
show and was now focusing full-time on that. Justin was a Brit who had spent most of his career in London. While Scotty had embraced a democratic approach to planning, Justin was proving to be the complete opposite. In other words, our “planning” meetings amounted to his updating us on what he had already planned. I was beginning to wonder why we didn’t just call them “briefing” meetings. Not that I was complaining.
The meetings were short and painless, and he was extremely friendly and professional.

“Good morning, Waverly.” Even the way he walked seemed straight out of the Academy of Efficiency. I wondered if he ever just kicked back and took a nap on the couch.

I set my phone down on the table. “Hi, Justin. How are you?”

He took a seat across from me and interlaced his hands. “I’m well, thanks for asking.” He glanced at the door, then lowered his voice. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here early. I need to run a few changes by you.”

I stiffened.

A few changes?

I nodded, trying to appear calm. “Sure, what kind of changes?”

Before he could reply, Wendy walked in.

“Good morning, Justin, Waverly.” She gave us each a polite nod.

“Hi, Wendy,” we both said. I wondered what kind of mood she was going to be in today.

She smiled and put a hand on Justin’s arm. “Justin, my dear, I need to talk to you about something before the meeting, in private.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I began to stand up.

She shook her head. “No, no, of course not.” Then she looked at Justin. “Could we just pop into my office for a moment? It won’t take long.”

“Sure, no problem.” As they left the room, he caught my eye and mouthed the words,
We’ll talk soon
.