Gray recovered from their night from hell better than Monty. He felt like an old man every time he moved. Luckily he could sit, so he kept his mind occupied working on documenting their trip.
A few years before, Oliver convinced him to attend a writer's workshop to improve his skills. Not many bestselling authors never spent a day at a university. Thankfully, he had an agent to edit his manuscripts and a friend whose family business was publishing.
As long as he didn't think about Sloane, he could be productive. As Tuesday wore on, he regretted accepting Bea's invitation. His cheek was still bruised and swollen. Bea would notice and ask questions. Just as he was thinking up an excuse so he could cancel, a text came through.
B: Rosa's been cooking all day. I'm wearing jeans.
He had to go but considered testing Bea. Hopefully, it wouldn't get back to his mother. His dilemma was no one in his parents' social circle, including his parents, knew about his tattoo. He always wore a jacket to every occasion. Did he dare wear a tee shirt? The weather decided it for him. It had been in the forties all day, but the temperature was forecasted to dip into the thirties.
He chose an untucked button-down. Maybe he would roll up his sleeves if he felt daring. His list of secrets was long, but his tat was not the biggest. He had imagined showing it to her one day. It was the mark of his broken heart.
When he stepped out of his room, Gray eyed him. "Bea said casual."
"Sure it's not a trap with your old man."
Dread pulsed through his blood until he remembered he wasn't ten years old.
"Screw him if it is."
"It's probably an intervention."
"Hell no. If it is, I'll walk out the door and never speak to Bea again." He felt the vise tighten on his heart. Colorful Bea was on the short list of people who honestly cared about him. "She's hyped up on her magic fountain. You and your effing wish. I'm not immune to kryptonite. It nearly killed me."
"I thought those were my fists."
"I still hurt like hell. I should hate you for beating me up."
"I'm the one with the shiner. I think exercising all night is why you're hurting."
Monty couldn't argue. He looked at his watch. "She's expecting me. See you later."
"I'm only..."
"I know a text away."
Monty enjoyed driving on his own. He didn't need Gray's services, but he rarely did except as a friend. If dinner was like their lunch, Bea wouldn't even be serving wine.
His hostess answered the door with a big smile. Sure enough, she wore a pair of denim leggings with a bright tunic covering most of her thigh.
The older woman appraised him. "You must have flocks of women chasing you."
"Not the one I wanted."
"Daring, why did you wait so long? If only you had cleaned up your act."
Her words turned the vise. Why didn't he? Stupidity? Gray warned him. He had a menu of excuses.
He shrugged. "She was so busy traveling."
"I suppose even a Whitby can't compete with baseball."
"I'd gladly change my name."
Bea laughed. "Montgomery is one of those names that can be a first or last. Whit Montgomery. Your father would have a coronary."
"I'm surprised I haven't caused him to have a few already." On top of a maid. He made a fist.
"Go. You need a new wish. The right girl is out there. You can't go wrong with true love."
"Unless you're Tori Calhoun."
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Even Tori's true love is out there."
"Is Tommy coming home?"
"Doubtful. Now scoot."
The air was chilly. The path of the garden held so many memories. He was the poster boy for 'money can't buy happiness'. In the magical garden, he had always been happy, but he wasn't a boy any longer.
He reached the fountain, surprised it was still running in November. Taking out his electronic cigarette, he took a drag, hoping to push away the nostalgia.
True love. In order to love, he would need to open himself up. Inside was a black swirl of unworthiness. It was the reason he never tried to win Sloane. He had sealed his fate when he was seventeen in the Hayes' playroom.
"Triste Monty."
Startled, he turned. Sofia stood on the path.
"What did you call me?"
"Triste. It means sad in..."
"I know what it means. Although I suspect you speak more fluently than me."
She stepped closer. It was not quite dark. He could see her face looked different. The color painted on her lips shined and black brought out her dark eyes.
She reached her hand up but stopped. "What happened?"
"Would you believe I walked into a door?"
She eyed him. "Did you get drunk because of her, the one you love?"
He wanted to lie to her, but she wasn't one of them. If Bea asked, he would have no trouble lying. "This stopped me."
She reached her hand and gently touched his bruised check. He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched so tenderly - except below the belt. He winced from the pain deep within, not on his cheek.
"What does the other guy look like?"
Big mother. "He has a blackeye."
She scoffed and mumbled in Spanish. "Men are babies."
He laughed. It was true. "What country are you from?"
"Colombia, but I was born here. We're legal."
"I never thought you weren't. I've been to Colombia. It's beautiful. I've jumped at San Gil."
"Jumped?"
"Bungee jumped. It's what I do."
"You do? It's not a job."
He smiled. "It's my pastime."
"Do you want to die!"
He laughed at the irony. "It's safe. Unless there's a malfunction."
"You're a foolish baby, Triste Monty."
Monty couldn't decide how he felt about her nickname. She had practically uncovered his secret pseudonym.
He cleared his throat. "Bea sent me to make a wish."
"Me too."
He thought of Sofia's tender touch. Maybe opening his heart would be worth the risk. He would do as Bea said, even if he didn't truly believe.
He turned to her. "Ready?" She nodded. "Together on three. One, two, three."
They both threw and heard a plunk and a thud. Sofia gasped.
"It's supposed to be lucky."
"Whose was it?"
"Hard to say." He chuckled. "Don't worry, they don't die. Rumor is these fish are older than me."
"Impossible. I am not gullible, Triste."
He laughed. "Goodbye, Sofia. Bea will think I'm lost."
She stood at the edge of the fountain, shining her phone's flashlight into the pool. Too concerned to respond as he walked off chuckling.
Bea hounded him. "Did you make a wish?"
"Yes, I made a wish." He continued mumbling. "I wished you'd leave Bill for a scandalous affair with me."
"I heard you, Montgomery Whitby."
"I just changed my mind. Don't call me by that name." The chill in his voice surprised himself.
"Sorry, darling. Two individuals couldn't be more different." It was her turn to mumble. "Thank goodness."
Monty had deduced Bea was not a fan of his father. Another thing to bond them.
"Mom, we're here."
"Whoa Monty! Aidan, why didn't you wear jeans?"
"I worked all day, Princess."
"Aidan, take your coat and tie off. I promised Monty we weren't dressing for dinner. Sage, you look adorable."
"I don't feel adorable at all."
Aidan pulled off his tie. "That's my son you're complaining about."
Even Monty was caught off guard. "Really? A boy?"
Aidan's smile was contagious as he nodded.
"You don't do that junior thing, do you?"
Sage answered. "No, little Aidan. What happened to your face?"
He shrugged. "I walked into a door."
Aidan said, "Ouch."
Sage stood with her hands on her hips. "I assume you were drinking, but I probably would too in your shoes."
Aiden said, "Princess, you wouldn't fit in his shoes, but I remember you drunk once, in some sexy heels."
Monty watched as Sage's face turned red. Bea jumped in. "Aidan, don't tease. Rosa has spiced hot cider. We're teetotalling tonight."
"You can have a drink in front of me." He took a deep breath. "I have more control than anyone believes."
Bea put his hand on his arm. "I know dear, but we don't drink every night."
Sage said, "I haven't worked since we moved. I'm so bored. Don't you get bored?"
"When I do, I pack a bag and go on an adventure."
Aidan laughed. "You should find Sage's favorite author and travel together. You could marry and take her name and be Montgomery Montgomery."
"Aidan! That's not even funny. Although if you ever meet her, introduce her to me. I love her."
"I wouldn't think..."
Bea said, "Both Sage and Aidan enjoy cooking."
Monty smiled. "I do too."
He felt dread again. His biggest secret was getting closer to being uncovered.