Page 77 of The Fiance Dilemma

Willa pulled her notepad and pen out and scribbled something.

“Tell me about your mother, Josephine.”

My attention bounced back to the journalist.

“Liz,” Willa insisted. “You must miss her at times like this.”

“I miss her every day she’s been gone,” I heard myself say. My voice was strong, but only because I was used to switching that on when I talked about her. “I’ve been loved, though,” I added. Long fingers interlaced with mine, and the comfort they brought me didn’t help with how hard my next breath was. “I was very fortunate.”

“Maurice took you in, if I’m correct?” Willa asked. “I assume he was the father figure you didn’t have growing up.”

He had and he hadn’t. Grandpa Moe had been in my life long before then. He’d always been the grandparent figure I never had, helping Mom out when she needed a hand, although we weren’t related. But I never considered him a replacement or a way to fill a void I had. Grandpa Moe was Grandpa Moe. When he took me in for those few months, things didn’t really change except for the fact that Mom wasn’t there. But none of that was relevant to Willa’s job. Andrew was. “He did,” I finally managed to get out.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Willa commented.

“Luckily, I have Andrew now.” My words felt funny as they left me, but this was the whole point of everything I’d put myself through. I’d put everyone through. “He’s in Green Oak, generously paying for the wedding”—I took in a breath—“and ready to be a part of my life.”

The hand engulfing mine tightened.

Willa continued, relentless. “Was it hard to go through the motions of four engagements, knowing he was out there?”

Her words bounced in the space between us for a few moments, and I became very still. So much so, I didn’t speak.

Her dark eyes glinted with interest. “How did it feel to stand at the start of that aisle, not once, but multiple times, knowing your father didn’t want to be there for you?”

Matthew stood up, my hand still clasped in his. “That’s enough—”

I tugged at him, bringing his words to a stop. He was such a good, protective man. He made my heart squeeze and burst at the way he’d just jumped. I’d always wanted that. Someone like him. But I wasn’t defenseless. I’d fended for myself for a long time. And as neurotic and naïve and people-pleasing as I might be, I also knew how to stand up for myself.

“Why is that relevant to you?” I asked Willa. “Aren’t you supposed to focus on Andrew’s achievements? His career? All the things he’s accomplished? Why would I matter?”

“Maybe because Andrew hasn’t worked out the courage to talk too much about you yet.” She shrugged an elegant shoulder. But I could tell she was bothered. I could tell she was a woman who wasn’t used to not getting the answers she searched for. “Or maybe because all this buzz online is making me curious abouttheinfamous Josie Moore.The Underwood Affair,as some are calling it.”

My teeth grated together for an instant. “You’re not that different from them, then. Page Nine.” Willa’s easy poise broke. “And if you’relooking for a new direction for my father’s book, I’m not the person to run that by.”

She clicked a button on the recorder with a tight smile, as if I’d just hit the nail on the head. “It’s our pasts that forge the people we are today, Josephine. You’re a piece in Andrew’s puzzle. A fortunate accident, a phase, a misstep… It doesn’t really matter what. I thought you could understand that much, considering you too hid a past.”

I came to a slow, relaxed stand. Feeling my hands shake. “You’re wrong about that.” I moved around the chair and casually inserted myself at Matthew’s side, as if that was something I did every day. As if it was something I was meant to do. I kept my eyes on Willa Wang. “Unlike my father, everything about me has always been out in the open. The only difference is that now people seem to care.” I placed my hand on Matthew’s chest. “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to sneak away from everyone and have aprivate momentwith my fiancé, if you know what I mean.” I winked. “I need the kind of distraction only he can provide after this. And someone told me we might get away with that sort ofthing.”

In a matter of seconds, we were moving, something halfway between a laugh and a grunt rumbling out the chest my cheek and hand were still plastered to.

“Shit,”I murmured. Feeling the weight of what I’d just said with every step we took away from Willa. “Crap. Ugh.Shitballs.No.Hairy stinkingshitballs. That was soooo bad. So super bad. Bobbi is going to have both our heads.”

Matthew’s arm tightened around me. “That was incredibly hot.”

“You get off on people being rude?” I muttered.

“I think you know what gets me off, sweetheart,” he said. Proudly. Loudly, too, by the way.

“I thought we were not doing thesweetheartthing.” I sighed, trying to ignore his answer. “That’s a step backward.”

“Direction is relative.”

I frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“It means what it means.” His hand splayed around my hip, the tips of his fingers catching on the bodice of the dress I wore. My breath hitched. He changed directions, swaying us left. “I’m just praying you were serious about what you said.”

“About what?”

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