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“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re one in charge,” I admit, feeling a pang of hope overshadowed by guilt for dragging him into my mess. “And I know why I need this to happen—”
“And why is that?” he interrupts me.
I pause before answering, not know if I should tell him the truth or not. But after everything I’ve been through, honesty, is all I have left.
“I need this article to gain exposure. Plus, it was explained that I would get a small sponsorship percentage if I used certain vendors or featured their brands. I need the money to pay back a loan and eventually expand my business to include a wedding venue at my family’s farm.” I give him the least complicated answer I can. I don’t explain that my dad owes a mountain of medical debt from my mom or that I also have student loan debt because after my mom got sick, I wanted to spend every moment I could with her. After she died, I was too depressed to finish school, and I lost my scholarship. I moved home and never looked back.
I shake away the sadness. “But what about you? Why is this article so important? I’m essentially a nobody and your family owns the magazine. Why risk it… why not just buy your way out of this?”
“Like I said, it’s… personal.”
I raise my brows at him expectantly.
Beau leans back in his chair and exhales. “Fine. Long story short, Blissful Bride was my mother’s magazine. The thirtieth-anniversary edition will be coming up at the end of September. If I don’t…” A ragged sigh escapes his lips. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, so please, no matter what happens after this meeting, don’t share what I’m about to tell you.”
“I swear.” I mark and x across my chest and a teeny tiny smile plays on his lips.
“Anyway, if I don’t publish a sensational issue and wow the readers, the board, and the sponsors… it’s going to be the last issue.”
“What!” My startled cry catches him off guard. “You can’t let that happen.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m trying my damnedest to make sure it doesn’t. I need to prove to my grandfather that I’m not a total screw-up.”
“I grew up reading it. My mom loved it. I have almost every issue,” I confess.
It’s his turn to be surprised.
“What are the chances.” The corner of his mouth tips up. “So, what do you say, Sunny?”
His eyes crinkle.
I’m trying hard to separate last night and today. Mr. Penthouse from Beau Montgomery. But when he looks at me like he is now, with so much damn hope, I feel like I hold all the power. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
“So… if we did this, how would that even work?”
His half smile turns into a full-blown grin, and it’s directed right at me.
“The same way it was going to work with your ex. When they approached you, what parameters were set for the story?” He goes into full business mode.
“They liked the idea of a wedding planner planning her own wedding. Sentimental, they called it, reminiscent of the first-ever issue, which was, uh, your—”
“Mom,” we say at the same time, and he drops his head. My heart aches for him because it’s a loss I’m all too familiar with. I reach across the table and cover his hand with my own.
He gives me a kind smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Unsure what to do, I pull my hand back and place it in my lap to keep myself from reaching for him again and continue.
“I guess they weren’t planning on having an anniversary issue, or something else fell through—they didn’t really tell me. All I know is it was pretty sudden.” If he knows, he doesn’t elaborate.
“And how were you selected?” His hands steeple under his chin as he watches me intently.
“Last month, I was at the bridal expo in Charleston, celebrating with my cousin Briar about a huge wedding booking and my recent engagement, and we were having some drinks at the hotel bar,” I start.
“I’m sensing a pattern here,” he chuckles, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Ha ha, very funny. Do you want to hear the story or not?”
“Please continue.” He holds his hands up defensively, then pretends to zip his mouth closed and tosses an imaginary key over his shoulder.
