“I know. Which makes it doubly pathetic.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d go find Matt and tell him to return your cat.”
“Maybe I’m not cut out to be a crazy cat lady.”
Willow chortled. “I’m sure you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a cat.”
“Good point.”
“Just don’t create a scene, okay? Laurie deserves a wedding completely unmarred by any sort of drama.”
Matt was seated at Dad’s table. This meant he had to endure his father’s endless shop talk during the wedding reception. That might have been much more interesting if Matt felt comfortable raising the issues Arwen had discovered during her research into the fines levied on Scott Anderson. Her memo had been sitting in Matt’s desk drawer for several days. He wanted to do something about it, but he didn’t know exactly what.
Raising the issue with Dad was a waste of time. His father wasn’t interested in the firm’s pro bono cases. For the most part, those cases were all losers—both legally and financially. And besides, the Dogwood Estates case was pretty much a done deal. The apartments had been sold, and the residents would eventually be evicted.
Arwen’s memo had nothing to do with Dogwood Estates, per se. She’d uncovered potential wrongdoing within the county government, but it wasn’t the firm’s job to police the government.
So he sat and smiled and listened to his father talk like the good son Dad wanted. His butt was numb by the time Mom finally intervened and literally demanded that Dad dance with her.
Finally free, Matt wandered off to the bar for a beer and then skirted the room looking for Courtney Wallace. He’d seen her a few times, dressed in her little black dress. And he was looking forward to proverbially tugging her pigtails. When he couldn't find her, he strolled out onto the terrace, coming to a stop when he saw Willow and Courtney deep in conversation.
Over the last few days, he’d knocked on Courtney’s apartment door several times, but she always seemed to be out. What the hell was she up to? Going out with all of her Match.com daily matches? Checking out potential sperm donors? What?
He wanted to know.
And that desire threw him for a loop. What was happening to him? Was he turning into the nosy next-door neighbor?
He hung back in the shadows, waiting until Willow got up and walked away before he headed in Courtney’s direction. But he didn’t get far before Brandon Kopp came stumbling down the walkway from Eagle Hill Manor’s main building. His shuffling gait said it all. The guy was drunk out of his mind.
Matt altered his trajectory and intercepted Brandon at the edge of the terrace. He was pretty sure no one at this wedding wanted to see him, especially the bride.
“Matt, hey, buddy, ’s’up?” Brandon slurred.
“Did you drive here on your own?” Matt asked.
“’Course I did. Brought the Camaro. Now, step aside. I need to kiss the bride.”
Brandon attempted to walk past, but Matt grabbed his friend by the shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
“Let me go.” Brandon unsuccessfully attempted to shake Matt off.
Instead Matt pulled him into a semi-embrace, turned him around, and marched him off in the direction of the gazebo. “The bride’s already gone,” he lied. In fact, the bride had just tossed her bouquet. The newlyweds were almost ready to leave the reception.
“Damn,” Brandon huffed.
“But good news. I owe you a hundred bucks.”
“What?”
Matt stopped on the footpath and released Brandon while he dug in his pocket for his money clip. He pulled off two fifties and slapped them into Brandon’s hand. “You’re right. I was unable to seduce Courtney.”
“I told you so. Didn’t I tell you so?” He laughed like a braying jackass. And then he shouted at the top of his voice, “Matthew Lyndon thinks Courtney Wallace is an ice queen bitch.”
Damn. He should have walked Brandon all the way back to the parking lot. Courtney didn’t need to hear Brandon’s drunken profanity. And the small, anguished sound she made broke his heart. He wanted to strangle Brandon right on the spot.
But he didn’t get the chance because the bride and groom stepped out onto the terrace, clearly ready to make a run for the honeymoon suite at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Downtown DC, where they’d be spending the night before getting on a plane to Mallorca for their honeymoon tomorrow.
“Come on, Brandon, let’s get out of here,” Matt said, pulling his friend down the footpath.
But Brandon dug in his heels. “Laurie?” he said in an utterly dejected tone as he stared toward the terrace where Andrew and Laurie stared back in shocked silence, their getaway route blocked by their worst nightmare.
The horrible moment seemed to spool out in slow motion until Courtney sprang into action, barreling down the walkway, grabbing Brandon by one arm and issuing the order, “Let’s get him out of here.”
Matt knew a command when he heard one. He grabbed Brandon’s other arm, and between the two of them they dragged Brandon off toward the lawn and the gazebo, clearing a path for the bride and groom.
Brandon wailed once, but when they got to the gazebo, he fell to his knees and hurled.
Once Brandon’s father had retrieved his drunken son, Matt pulled Courtney into the gazebo. The situation was hopelessly romantic. A stand of honeysuckle growing along a nearby fence perfumed the air, and fireflies sparked above the lawn. A thin sliver of moon hung in the midnight sky.
Courtney wanted to escape. But Matt insisted that she sit down and talk to him.
“I’m sorry about what Brandon said. It’s not true. And it’s not what I think.” Matt settled his back more comfortably against the gazebo’s bench and took a gulp of his long-necked beer. The darkness hid his face.
“Okay. But be honest, what do you think?” she asked bravely. A small part of her wanted to know, while the rest of her was certain the truth
