Page 17

Before

The gossip about Will and me dating was the subtle, whispering kind at first. When I would walk by the moms at the club, I could hear them say “that one” under their breaths.

Or as soon as I approached, voices fell silent as if they had just been talking about me.

But what started as soft sidebar talk only grew as Will and I started seeing each other regularly.

When we met for coffee at the Farmers’ Market one Saturday morning, curious eyes followed us.

When he took me to a play at the Annie Russell Theatre, I could see people craning their necks to get a better view—not of the stage, but of us.

The stares weren’t necessarily unkind, but they were loaded with questions.

Or maybe just one question: What was someone like Will doing with someone like me?

He was one of the city’s most successful names, and definitely their most eligible bachelor.

They all glowered at me like I had stolen their prom king.

“You’re making a scene,” I said to Will in a hushed voice one night while we were grabbing a late-night glass of wine on Park Avenue.

We were facing each other, sitting on two barstools, and I had my knees tucked in between his.

Despite my teasing, we weren’t doing anything to draw attention.

About half the bar was watching us anyway.

“Me?” He put his hands on the outsides of my legs. I was wearing jeans, and the feeling of his hands running over the fabric gave me goosebumps. He leaned in and nipped at my ear while one hand slid subtly up my thigh as he whispered, “Have you seen you?”

His warm breath sent a shiver down my spine. And his hand sent heat pulsing elsewhere.

We had been dating for about a month, and we had fallen into a little rhythm.

Dinners Friday or Saturday night, Sunday coffees or a walk around Park Avenue.

On weekdays, he was tied up with work, but he would text or send flowers just to say he was thinking of me.

Every time he called, I got this dreamy feeling.

It was all so heady and new. But I kept his contact name as Hot Mean Lawyer in my phone as a reminder not to get too far ahead of myself. We were just having a good time.

Still, it was weird having our good time scrutinized under the unforgiving microscope of small-town gossip.

Especially when, everywhere we went, people seemed to know Will.

Mia’s old teachers, his old clients, the judge that swore him in when he was admitted to the Florida Bar—we couldn’t go anywhere without someone stopping by to say hello, reminiscing about some story from a hundred years ago, or asking about Mia and Constance.

And with Will being Will—polite, kind, decent Will—every stop-and-chat conversation would inevitably trigger him to introduceme.

“This is my friend Nora,” he had said to Mia’s piano teacher one morning in Winter Park’s mini–Central Park.

“She’s awfully young to be a friend,” the little old lady had mumbled as she walked away.

Will just laughed, but I knew that every introduction could become fodder for more gossip. And on this particular night at the wine bar, we had already been approached by Will’s dentist for a “quick hello,” which included a twenty-minute story about the dentist’s new Grady-White.

“I don’t think I’m the problem here,” I teased, taking a sip of my wine. “Before I started going out with you, I was essentially invisible.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I’m just saying if the legal work dries up, you could run for mayor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a chuckle. But he didn’t seem fazed.

“Don’t you ever worry what all of these people say to your ex-wife about this?”

“Constance knows about you.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“After I bumped into the Lawtons on our first date, I thought it would be best to give her a heads-up that I was seeing someone. I wanted her to hear it from me.”

Noble. Obviously…But he’s “seeing someone”? That sounds like more than just having fun.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “People are going to talk. Let them.”

People weren’t just talking. They were shooting daggers at me with their eyes. Whether I was teaching their kids to swim or checking them in for an afternoon at the museum, the country club moms glared at me like I was a predator—a threat to the natural order of their world.

“You told her that you were seeing me or that you were seeing ‘someone’?” I asked. He frowned, failing to see the difference. “Will, I know women. My mom’s been married four times, and there’s never been an ex-wife in history who didn’t have an axe to grind with the new girl.”

“Constance isn’t like that.”

I remembered Mia’s warning from the pool the day we met. “You don’t understand, my mom is crazy.”

But doesn’t every teenager think their mother is certifiable?

“Maybe she’s not, but her friends could be. Everyone has at least one crazy friend,” I said. “I just want to know if there’s a Chanel-wearing, Birkin-swinging mafia out there calling for my head.”

“You’re not really afraid of my ex-wife, are you?”

“Just tell me you didn’t give her my name specifically. Tell me you said, ‘I’m seeing someone from the club.’ Or something equally untraceable.”

“All I gave her were your fingerprints and social security number.”

“Perfect.”

“You said it yourself, the moms at the club are already giving you dirty looks. It was all going to get back to her either way.”

“It’s different if someone else tells her who I am. It’s less…”

Serious.

He reached for my barstool and tugged it toward him. We were inches apart now, inches away from truly making a scene. “Maybe we should get out of town for a little while.”

“Like witness protection?”

“Like, let’s go to Miami or New York.”

“Or Helsinki.”

“Seriously.” He lowered his gaze to mine. “Let’s take a trip. You and me.”

I considered that for a minute. A trip would be raising the stakes. It would be a next-level, capital T Thing. Traveling together exposes all the inefficiencies in a relationship—which, arguably, would be a problem only if this was actually a relationship. But since it wasn’t…

“What is that face you’re making?” Will searched my face with downturned lips.

“Oh, it’s not a face. Sorry, I was just—”

“Worrying if we can endure a trip together?” The twinkle in his eye when he was gently teasing was enough to melt me. “I think we’ll manage just fine.”

A trip. Hot Mean Lawyer wants to take me on a trip…

“Okay. Let’s go to New York.”