# Chapter 22: Moonlight Promises and the Truth Behind RISE
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 22 of "Seduced By My Ex's Divorce Attorney audiobook free". This chapter is a beautiful turning point—one of those quiet, intimate chapters that sneaks up on you and then hits you right in the heart. There is forgiveness, a wedding, a dance under the stars, and a dock confession that finally lets us see the woman behind the firecracker exterior. So grab a cup of coffee, get comfortable, and let's dive in together.
We begin in the soft aftermath of the night before. She turns on her side to face Roarke, and he asks the question that has clearly been weighing on him: “Us? Are you actually going to give this a go?” His expression is full of doubt, as if he has spent the whole night wondering whether she would wake up and call it a mistake. She slides closer, reaching around him, wanting his warmth. She touches her lips to his jaw—that chiseled movie-star jaw of his—and tells him, “I forgive you, Roarke.” Not because he needed forgiveness for representing Todd. He owed her nothing back then. But she is putting the past behind her, and she wants to try. Her only request is truth, always. She admits that trusting him is a huge step for her, even if he thinks she is tough. Roarke smiles, rolls her onto her back, and promises, “You can trust me.” He seals it with a kiss, and for the next hour, she loses herself in him completely. It is passionate, tender, and clearly a new beginning.
Then we jump to the wedding. Allie and Wyatt actually make it through the ceremony without a fight. Roarke hands his sister off to what appears to be a genuinely great man. No one objects, no one is late, and the reception is halfway through with no hiccups. The barnyard is gorgeous—grass lit by candles in mason jars, strings of tiny lights, and huge bouquets of magnolias on every surface. She spots Roarke in his tuxedo, two glasses of champagne in his hands as he talks with Sean from high school. She stands to the side, admiring the man who is quickly consuming all her thoughts. Soon he strolls across the grass and hands her a champagne glass. She barely gets a thank-you out before “Heartbeat” by Carrie Underwood begins. Roarke takes her glass, sets it down, and leads her to the dance floor. The makeshift floor sits beneath a star-filled sky, with extra twinkle lights wrapped around the giant trees, making it feel like a scene from a movie. He pulls her close, tucks their hands between their bodies, and wraps his other arm around her waist. Only a few other couples are dancing, and she is sure everyone is watching them. But Roarke does not seem to care. He holds her close and softly sings in her ear. For a man who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest in Chicago, he is letting these people see him fall for the woman in his arms.
She wonders if he is falling for her. She thinks so. But doubt creeps in—the fear of not being enough, the thought that they are rushing, the question of why she is picking him when she could find someone else. Still, she cannot deny her attraction to him. He got her faster than she predicted, but she honestly wants to give them a try. After all, what girl does not want someone to love her for her? Even if she protests that she is not looking for love. She shelves those thoughts and scans the gathering. She notices Allie a few feet away, poking her finger into Wyatt's chest. “I hope there’s not trouble in paradise already,” she says. Roarke follows her gaze and shakes his head. “That’s just them. They’re hot and cold.” They dance in silence for another minute before she asks a question that has plagued her since she started developing feelings for him: “Why did you decide to become a divorce attorney?”
He glances behind her, and she is not sure who or what is there, but she would bet it has something to do with his answer. He says there are a lot of reasons. One is the money. He knows it sounds bad, but he was a poor kid from a poor town. He scraped by to earn his degrees, sometimes working three jobs. He knew he could not defend criminals and be a defense attorney, and with the divorce rate rising every year, he felt it was a safe bet for a successful career. He waits for her response, but she does not really have one. She grew up never worrying about money. She worked for her father, who made her the businesswoman she is, but she never had to punch a clock. Her rent was paid, groceries delivered, and once her trust was released, it sat in a bank account in case the stock market plummeted. Roarke teases, “Not so noble now, right?” He admits he still holds resentment about his dad leaving his mom and him behind to fend for themselves. That would be reason number two. He draws back, studying her eyes. She cannot judge him because he has lived a life without everything she took for granted. She simply says, “Okay,” and rests her head on his shoulder, her face cradled into his neck. His cologne does crazy things to her libido. He teases her about no longer fighting him on anything now that he has given her a few orgasms. She tells him not to get used to it.
Then he asks why she started RISE. She says it is a long answer. He says they have time. A few more couples join the dance floor, and another slow song begins. She stares up into his eyes and wonders if she can trust him. The angel on her right reminds her that he has trusted her with seeing where he came from. She warns, “You’re going to think I’m a spoiled brat.” His hand leaves her hip and cradles her cheek. “Never. Come on.” He nods for them to leave the dance floor. A few minutes later, they are ducking through trees and shrubs hand in hand. Roarke carries a bottle of champagne in his free hand. They walk until they reach a clearing and end up at a dock. The moon casts a mirror image on the soft ripples in the lake. A few fishing boats are tied up along the dock—nothing compared to the yachts that filled the marinas she grew up around. The wooden planks whine as they sit down and hang their feet over the edge, their shoes laid at their sides. Roarke opens the champagne bottle, and suds explode out, dropping into the lake. “Crap, usually I’m better at that,” he says. She laughs and her head falls to his shoulder. “I kind of like it that you’re not as perfect as you appear.” His eyebrows crinkle. “I’m far from perfect.” If she were an honest woman, she would tell him that to her, he is perfect—other than the part about representing her ex, but she is trying to see past that. She teases him about seeming like he has seduced a lot of women, always a gentleman in public but knowing his way around a woman’s body. Even in the moonlight, she spots the slight flush to his cheeks. He says he is glad his act is working, but there is not an enormous list of women in front of her if that is what she is asking. She is not sure if she is asking, but jealousy still tinges her thoughts. Did any of them hold his heart?
He changes the subject, reminding her that he snuck her out here so she would tell him about RISE. He hands her the champagne bottle. She takes a sip and hands it back. “You trying to give me liquid courage?” she asks with a chuckle. He says he always aims to make her as comfortable as possible. She rolls her eyes and calls them “get in my pants” lines. He holds his hands up. “I don’t mean them to be.” Then he asks again, “So, Firecracker, why did you start RISE?” No matter how much she tries to push the conversation in a different direction, he sets them back on the path. Embarrassment flushes through her, and she takes a deep breath. She grew up with expectations. Her mom had her in etiquette classes and always tried to instill the belief that she should stand in the shadow of the man she married. As she grew older, her fellow debutantes married into wealth similar to their parents. They stood behind the men they married and learned how to throw the best cocktail parties and how to please their husbands by making them look good in the eyes of the people around them. Roarke says she does not seem the type. He entwines his fingers through hers, and the familiar flutter in her belly stirs. She explains that he met her after the fairy tale had torn at the seams. She was not the first of her friends to be cheated on, but she was the first one who left. She credits her dad. After all, she was the only one of her friends who got an education in business. Most of her girlfriends clung to their mom’s teachings about finding the right personal shopper and the best place for brunch. Her mom always tried to get her to fill that role, but she never had much success. She was much closer to her dad, a doting father. As she grew up, she started to realize her mom had very little interest in her.
Roarke shares that he still remembers the first time he figured out his mom had a drinking problem. “The telescope from a kid’s perspective can be gentle,” he says. She nods because he is right. “Yeah, it can be like a punch to the gut when you finally realize what’s been there all along.” She says they do not need to dig into her childhood issues. She takes a sip of champagne and sets the bottle beside her. The psychologist her mother hired when she was sixteen because she was acting out delved into that enough. After she found out about Todd’s cheating, something snapped inside her. Her mom’s response was that men will be men. Her response was to hire a private investigator to find out if her father had someone on the side. The thought of her father not being the man she thought he was might have torn her apart more than seeing Todd with his mistress. Roarke asks, “And?” She shakes her head. “Nope. He was clean. He only goes to the golf course, the club, work, and home. My father has always looked at my mom in awe, like he can’t believe she’s his. If I couldn’t believe in that, I’m not sure I’d ever stand a chance to believe in love again.” But while her mother was convincing her that it might have somehow been her fault that Todd did not stay faithful—that maybe she was too moody or the fact that she did not organize a thirtieth birthday party for him sent the wrong message—she even suggested she read books on sex. Roarke kisses her neck and tells her she has no problems in that area. He still gets hard remembering her beneath him. Todd is a bastard who let the perfect woman slip through his fingers.
She smiles at his kind reassurance, but any doubts about what she could have done to save her marriage left the minute she filed for divorce. She takes another swig of champagne, the bubbles tickling her throat. Her dad told her to cut off Todd’s nuts. He said he would pay for the lawyer, but ultimately the decision was hers. If she decided to stay with Todd, he would respect her choice, but he did not have to be cordial to him. The funny thing is that she almost felt relieved that she could end the marriage and not be seen as an ungrateful brat who did not know how good she had it. She hated all the dinners at nine at night when Todd was just getting home, always being interrupted by his co-workers or his beeper. She hated the way she was expected to not have an opinion on anything of importance. By the end of their marriage, he was already sleeping in another room, using the excuse of his schedule. She did not want to be married to Todd, but she felt trapped in that life.
Roarke grinds out that he hates himself for representing that prick. He takes the champagne bottle from her and tilts it to his lips. She explains that is the reason she had to start a foundation where girls learn to know they have a voice. They can speak their minds and have their own thoughts and beliefs they can own, and no one should be trying to silence them. She shrugs. She sees so many of her friends whose happiness lies in the mood of their husband. She might never have a daughter, but she does not want any girl to live a life like that. You would think the world was over gender bias, but it is not. Roarke says, “Just when I think I couldn’t be more attracted to you.” His hand lands on her cheek and he turns her to face him. He wants to promise her something because he knows trusting him is hard for her. He told her he does not break promises. Ever. He promises to never speak for her. He will never order for her at a restaurant. Her opinion is always welcome, even if they do not see eye to eye—which, let’s be honest, is going to happen. He promises to value her as an equal, always. If they walk in this relationship together, it will be side-by-side—not with him leading and her following. A tear wells in her eye because he is the first man she opened up to after her divorce, and his response could not be more perfect. She gives him a soft smile. “I never knew such a soft teddy bear was hidden under the grizzly bear facade.” He leans in closer. “You never wanted to find out. But I’m glad you did.” He presses his lips to hers, and his tongue slides along the seam of her mouth. She does not just give him access to her mouth—she opens the entire vault and lets him into her life, consequences be damned.
The next morning—or perhaps another day soon after—Victoria mumbles as she passes her in the hallway, “You’re glowing again.” She runs to answer an early morning phone call. “Am not,” she protests. “Are too,” Victoria shoots back. They bicker like two siblings telling their mom the other spilled Coke all over the carpet. Victoria answers the phone, “Good morning, RISE. Oh, hi.” She peeks into Chelsea’s office. Chelsea is pale with a sheen of sweat on her face. “Not a good morning. Ask me at lunch.” She laughs and steps away, giving her space. Pregnancy seems downright awful to her, and she is not even privy to how scared Chelsea and Dean must be about the health of their baby since Chelsea has a rare condition that decreases her odds of a successful pregnancy. Victoria whispers, covering the receiver, “It’s your dad.” Then Victoria tries to talk golf with him. “Uh-huh. A handicap of thirteen? That’s great. You must really be in the zone these days.” She smiles at Victoria’s failed attempt. “Oh yes, ’course, sorry. I’ll just pass you over to Hannah... Anytime, I’m sure he’d love to. Hold on one second.” Her office line rings, and she picks up. “Are you that desperate to talk to someone you choose to torment my assistant with your golf handicap and try to lure her boyfriend out?”
And that is where Chapter 22 leaves us—on the edge of a phone call with her father, with her heart lighter, her relationship with Roarke finally out in the open, and her past no longer holding her prisoner.
Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter is a warm, emotional breath of fresh air after so much tension. I loved seeing Roarke and the heroine finally communicate like adults. The dock scene is intimate without feeling rushed, and the way she explains RISE makes her character so much richer. The wedding setting adds a dreamy backdrop, but the real magic is in the quiet promises they make to each other. Roarke’s vow to never speak for her or order for her at a restaurant is simple, but it means everything given her history with Todd. The chapter balances romance, vulnerability, and humor beautifully. The final phone call with her dad is a perfect little cliffhanger that makes you want to keep listening. I am giving this chapter a strong rating because it delivers both emotional payoff and forward momentum.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
Next Chapter Prediction
The next chapter will likely pick up with the phone call from her father. I suspect he has heard something about Roarke—maybe from town gossip, maybe from Victoria’s slip—or he simply wants to check on his daughter after noticing she is “glowing.” There may be a tense but loving father-daughter conversation, possibly leading to her father wanting to meet Roarke. Meanwhile, Chelsea’s high-risk pregnancy will probably become a bigger source of worry, and Victoria’s odd phone behavior might hint at a romantic subplot of her own. I also would not be surprised if Todd resurfaces, trying to cause trouble now that she is moving on. But after the promises on the dock, I think she is finally strong enough to face whatever comes next—with Roarke at her side.
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