Page 112 of Whisper Sweet Nothings
“Sure, I can get that set up for him.”
“So, when do you want to propose?” Winnie asked.
“Yesterday.” Bridger laughed. “I’ve been ready to marry her for a while now. But I know this is an important part of it for her, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“Yeah, it’ll be something she remembers forever,” she said. “What are her favorite things?”
“Decorating. Books. Flowers. And me.” He continued typing on the keyboard like he was writing a novel.
“Okay, that’s easy enough.” She laughed. “What about making a backdrop out of book pages that we string between the trees in your backyard. You’ve already got the perfect setting out there. And on the backdrop, you could have large letters that say ‘Marry Me.’ You could have floral arrangements sitting in large baskets all around it, and you can have candles and lights if you do it in the evening.”
He looked up at her. “I like this. How do I make a backdrop out of book pages?”
“I can make it for you,” Winnie said. “I’m sure the girls would help me.”
“And I’ll order a bunch of flowers. But how the hell am I going to get this set up without her seeing it?”
“With help,” I said, shaking my head with a laugh. “We get the girls to take her out during the day, and we’ll help you set it up, and then you can meet her for dinner, and we’ll get the candles and lights ready before you get home.”
He nodded. “This could work.”
“It’ll work. And she’s going to love it,” I said.
“I can be hiding before the proposal and then come out and take photos for you during the proposal. She’ll want to have keepsakes from this special day.”
“Oh. I wouldn’t have thought of that, but you’re probably right. Thank you. Can we pull it together by next weekend? I’m sick of waiting.”
Loud laughter bellowed from me. “Patience has never been your strength.”
“Agreed.” He stared at the screen as he typed some more on the keyboard. “I’m going to clean this up and organize it a bit.”
“Thank you so much,” Winnie said. “And we can absolutely pull this together by next weekend. I’ll get to work on thebackdrop today. I’ve got plenty of books I can use to make the backdrop.”
“Just let me know the cost for anything you do, and I’ll get the flowers ordered today as well.”
“You’ve still got all those lights from Easton and Henley’s wedding wrapped around all your trees, and we can all help you set up lanterns with candles in the yard around the backdrop as well.”
“All right. We’ll do it next weekend. Saturday night.” His fingers froze on the keyboard. “What the fuck.”
“What’s going on? Did it freeze again?” Winnie asked, scooting closer to Bridger so she could glance at the screen from where she sat between us. “What is this? His poetry?”
“This isn’t fucking poetry,” Bridger hissed, turning the screen so both of us could see it.
The laptop had a file named “The Taylor Tea,” with endless docs inside labeled by date, which appeared to be weekly.
“Oh my gosh,” Winnie whispered as she leaned over and opened one of the docs. And then another. And another. “Uncle Oscar is the author of ‘The Taylor Tea’?”
“Fucking Oscar. I should have known. The dude is the pulse of this town. He’s at that restaurant every damn day, just listening to all the conversations.” Bridger threw his hands in the air. “And it’s been a fucking dude the whole time? I thought it was a woman writing that bullshit.”
“I mean, the guy is aNew York Timesbestselling author. He knows how to tell a story.” I had to laugh, still stunned by the revelation.
Winnie’s eyes were wet with emotion as she looked between us. “I think he misses writing, but he doesn’t want to write books anymore. He found an outlet that makes him happy. And he never wanted anyone to know who he was even when he was a famous author. His anonymity was so important to him, soI’m guessing this was a way to have an outlet without anyone knowing it was him.”
“So he just gets to spread gossip about all of us, and we’re supposed to keep it a secret? Why would we protect him for calling everyone out?” Bridger was on his feet now, pacing in little circles in front of the table.
“Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I know you hate that column, but from my perspective, it’s done good things for this town,” Winnie said as she sniffed a few times, her eyes were wet with emotion. “It’s something most locals look forward to every week. I mean, your family reads it every Sunday at dinner together. Lulu wakes up and can’t wait to pull it up.”
“Why are you upset, beautiful?” I asked her, pulling her close to me and wrapping my arms around her.
