Miss Match

by Lindzee Armstrong

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Antonio held Brooke close, nuzzling her neck. She buried her face in his shoulder and held him closer. Light poured in from the floor to ceiling windows in his studio apartment, illuminating the space where they stood. The sun felt like summer on her skin, and the smell of turpentine and oil paints was familiar and safe. Brooke wanted to stay in that sunlight, basking in the comfort of Antonio’s embrace, forever.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

  Brooke tightened her arms around his neck. She needed to leave for work. She’d only stopped by Antonio’s for a moment to wish him luck on his business trip to San Diego. But she didn’t want to let him go. “I’m going to miss you too.”

  He captured her lips with his own, pressing a hand against her back to urge her closer. She tried to focus on the kiss, to be present in the moment.

  Antonio pulled back. “You’ve been quiet. Is everything okay?”

  Brooke knew she should tell him what had happened last night with Luke. But if she told him, he would never let her see Luke again. And I probably shouldn’t. She didn’t know if their friendship could ever recover from what had happed. But she wanted it to.

  “Brooke?”

  She blinked. She’d been lost in thought again. “Yeah, sorry. I’m stressed about work.”

  “Have you had any luck finding another date for Luke?”

  “There are plenty of willing candidates and I’m trying to find the right one. I don’t want another disaster like the football game.”

  Antonio kissed Brooke again. “You’ll figure something out.”

  Brooke glanced at her cell and groaned. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for work.”

  Antonio let her go. “I should be going too. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  At work, Brooke scoured the list of potential matches the computer had populated, looking for the one that would be just right for Luke. Maybe if she found him a girlfriend, their relationship could go back to normal.

  Why, Luke? Why did you have to say you love me?

  She wished she could rewind time and go back to the days of denial. Life had been so much easier then. So much simpler.

  Brooke scanned the list of qualifications for Bachelorette #1. She loved cats … definitely not the girl for Luke, despite a seventy percent compatibility rating. Brooke closed out her profile and began reading the next one. She loved the bar scene. So not what Luke needed right now.

  Brooke stopped on the profile of Michelle. She looked sweet and wholesome, an elementary school teacher who loved football and had a passion for Star Wars. A white personality, so she probably wasn’t competitive. Brooke kept reading, but she already knew that Luke would go on a date with this woman. Hopefully that weekend. Charlotte was annoyed Brooke hadn’t already scheduled a date for Friday.

  Brooke walked over to Raine’s cubical. Raine looked up from her computer. “Hey, Brooke.”

  “Hey. Do you have a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  Brooke perched on the edge of Raine’s desk. “I looked through Michelle’s profile, and I think she might be a good match for Luke.”

  Raine nodded. “Okay. What qualities is Luke looking for?”

  “He needs someone who isn’t only interested in his celebrity status. Someone who is calm and can balance out his more bold personality.”

  Raine nodded. She turned to her computer and pulled up Michelle’s profile. “Michelle isn’t the celebrity gossip type. And she definitely isn’t the type to drink when nervous.” She flashed Brooke a grin. “I think they’d be a great match, and the computer agrees. Sixty-nine percent compatibility. Let me call her right now and see if she’d be interested in a date. When were you thinking?”

  “Friday night hopefully.”

  “Yeah, we need to give the press something new to talk about.” Raine picked up her phone and dialed a number. Brooke’s stomach tied in knots as she listened to Raine’s side of the conversation.

  A few minutes later, Raine hung up the phone. “Michelle’s excited to meet Luke and looks forward to the date. I told her I would call her back in a few hours with more details. What did you have in mind for Friday?”

  “Something cultural. Maybe the theater?”

  “Michelle would love that. Broadway’s The Lion King is in town right now. I know Charlotte had a few tickets set aside in case a client wanted to go.”

  “That sounds great. Let me call and confirm with Luke, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Raine nodded, and Brooke walked back to her desk. Now she’d have to call Luke. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to act. Usually after he broke a rule, she ignored him for a few days, he apologized by buying her chocolate, then they went to the movies or something and pretended the whole thing had never happened.

  Act natural, like everything is normal. That’s what you told him you’d do, right?

  Brooke swallowed. “I’m calling Luke,” she told Zoey.

  Zoey gave her a sympathetic smile. “Finally found a good match for his next date?”

  Brooke nodded.

  “Just hurry and get it over with, quick like a Band-Aid.”

  “Yeah.” Brooke picked up the phone and dialed before she could talk herself out of it.

  “Good luck,” Zoey whispered.

  “Hello?” Luke said.

  Brooke closed her eyes, the cadence of his voice washing over her like warm sand. “Hey, Luke.” How would he respond? What would he say?

  What did she want him to say?

  “Hey.” His voice was cautious. But it held a warmth, too. One that made her insides squirm.

  Brooke grabbed the framed photo of her and Antonio from its place on her desk and slid it closer. She forced herself to take in his dark curly hair, his stubbled jaw. His kissable lips. “I’ve got another match for you. Her name’s Michelle. I’d like to set up a date for Friday. Will that work for you?”

  “Sure,” Luke said. “I should be able to get off work by six.”

  He’s still working regularly? Brooke shook her head. She couldn’t reconcile this new Luke, who really was the old Luke, with the Luke she’d become familiar with over the past few months. “Great. There’s an eight-thirty showing of The Lion King. I thought you could go to the play, then take her out for dessert afterward.” One of Tamera’s complaints had been she didn’t feel like she had a chance to talk to Luke, and Brooke was determined not to make that mistake this time.

  “Okay.”

  “Right. I’ll get everything arranged and let you know. I’ll call you back in a few hours.”

  “Bye, Brooke.” Then, more quietly: “I love you.”

  Brooke froze. Her hand tightened on the phone receiver. “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. And I will keep saying it until I convince you to believe me.”

  Brooke slammed the receiver down.

  Zoey crossed one leg over the other. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

  Brooke looked around to make sure no one was nearby before answering. “He said he loved me.”

  “So? He does.”

  “But he shouldn’t say it.” Brooke blinked quickly. “I told him I wanted things to go back to normal. Why doesn’t he understand that?”

  “Why should it get to be all about what you want?” Zoey turned back to her computer. “Luke has feelings too.”

  Brooke’s heart thudded to a stop, then hammered in her ears. She slowly picked up the phone again and dialed the ticket office for the theater. She needed to give them Luke’s name so they’d know who was picking up the tickets. Was she being selfish to deny Luke’s feelings?

  No. He’s wrong to try to break up my wedding.

  “Box office, how may I help you?”

  Brooke sat up straighter in her chair and pushed Luke out of her mind. She had a date to arrange.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It was a long three days without Luke or Antonio. Luke didn’t call, didn’t text, and their only intera
ctions were Toujour-centered. Brooke tried to forget about Luke, forget about his declaration. She tried to focus on Toujour and planning her wedding and her nightly chats with her fiancé.

  It wasn’t working.

  Brooke wandered into the kitchen Friday morning, feeling her shoulders droop and the bags under her eyes. Zoey sat at the bar, sipping a cup of coffee.

  “Morning,” Brooke mumbled.

  “You look awful. Sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Brooke slumped into a chair and watched through bleary eyes as Zoey poured a cup and set it in front of her.

  “Something new got you losing sleep?” Zoey asked.

  Brooke shook her head. “I keep hoping I’ll wake up and realize it was all a bad dream, and things are still the same between Luke and me.”

  “But they aren’t. And it isn’t what Luke wants.”

  Brooke laid her head on the table. “Men suck.”

  Zoey laughed. “Luke’s date with Michelle is tonight. Maybe he’ll fall madly in love with her and solve all your problems.”

  Brooke’s stomach twisted. She knew Zoey was joking. But Brooke didn’t want that, either.

  “Are you going to tell Antonio?”

  “I can’t.” The words caught in Brooke’s throat as they forced their way out of her mouth. “I know I should, but I love Luke too much to let Antonio know he has feelings for me. Because if Antonio knows, he’ll want me to stop hanging out with Luke. And Zoey, I know I should, but I can’t. There’s got to be a solution to all of this that doesn’t involve me losing Luke or Antonio.”

  Zoey leaned forward, bracing her arms on the counter. “Are you happy?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a simple question—are you happy? When you forget about the stress of Toujour, and Antonio and Luke not getting along, and the wedding, are you happy with your choice?”

  Brooke stared into her mug. It scared her to death that she couldn’t answer that question. She sipped her coffee and stewed.

  Brooke finally had enough clients at Toujour that she stayed busy for most of the day. Her excitement at seeing Antonio again grew as the end of her work day drew closer. By the time Brooke left at seven, she felt a lot better about things. It would be a tense and awkward few months with Luke. But once the wedding was over, everyone would get used to the new status quo and things would calm down.

  Brooke practically skipped up the three flights of stairs to Antonio’s studio apartment. He opened the door, and she flung herself at him. He laughed, holding her tight and kissing her until she gasped for air. She savored the feel of his stubble against her cheek, his arms around her waist. This was right. This is what she wanted.

  “You’re right on time,” he said, pulling her inside. “I just got back a few minutes ago. I picked up takeout on my way home.”

  “What did you order this time?” Brooke asked, taking off her coat and tossing it on the worn couch pushed against one wall.

  “Mexican—your favorite. It’s a peace offering since I didn’t cook. I’ll come over to your place later this week and make you a real meal, promise.”

  Brooke grinned. Antonio was a fabulous cook, but he refused to do it in his tiny kitchen. “Sounds like I’m getting the better end of this deal.”

  “I do what I can. Let me set the table, then we’re ready.”

  Brooke helped get the food on while they discussed how Antonio’s business trip had gone, and soon they filled their tortillas with Mexican rice and beans. “So how did things go with matchmaking this week?” Antonio asked once their burritos were made.

  Brooke swallowed. She hoped her face didn’t show the guilt she felt. “Good. We’ve had over a hundred new clients sign up this week. Luke’s on another date tonight.”

  “I hope he can save everyone’s jobs. I know Zoey enjoys working there.”

  Brooke bit her lip and looked away. I love this job too, Antonio—my dream job. She focused on the glittering city lights visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I selected this date very carefully. I think it’ll go well.”

  “Have you thought any more about Italy?”

  Breathe in. Breathe out. “Yes. I’m still not sure.”

  “We could do Christmas in Paris.”

  Brooke swallowed hard. “Maybe. This sweet pork is amazing tonight. I wonder if they did something to the recipe.”

  And just like that, the subject changed. They both avoided bringing up moving, Toujour, or Luke for the rest of the meal. Instead, they talked more about Antonio’s business trip and their plans for the week.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Brooke said when they finished eating.

  Antonio nodded, throwing the plates in the trash.

  “Can I grab your laundry before I forget?” Brooke asked. Antonio’s apartment didn’t have a washer or dryer, so Brooke did his laundry at her apartment. “I’m guessing you are in desperate need of clean clothes.”

  “You’re right. Thanks.”

  “I can’t stay too late tonight. Mind if I start sorting it?”

  He shrugged. “If you want. I’ll finish cleaning up down here, then come up.” He swatted her on the butt.

  Brooke weaved her way through easels and tiptoed over the drop cloths that covered the main living space, making her way to the ladder leading to the bedroom loft. She’d always loved the twelve foot high ceilings and exposed brick in this apartment. She quickly scaled the ladder and ducked under a wooden beam before straightening. The ceiling was barely a few inches above her head. This apartment definitely wouldn’t work once they were married, but still, she’d miss it.

  A suitcase sat on the floor next to the unmade bed. Clothes spilled out of it and littered the room. No surprise there. Antonio was messy and unorganized—something Brooke knew would drive her nuts when they moved in together after the wedding. But probably not any crazier than Zoey’s messes. With a sigh, Brooke started picking clothes up off the floor. She had no idea what was clean or dirty. She’d have to wash everything.

  She quickly gathered the clothes from around the room and moved on to the suitcase. She separated art supplies and toiletries from the clothing. She tossed dental floss onto one pile and a shirt onto another. A flash of silver caught her eye, standing out against the black of Antonio’s shirt. She reached for the silver. Her hand stilled, and her heart thudded in her ears.

  A single diamond earring. A present for her, maybe?

  Brooke set it aside, turning back to the suitcase. She pawed through it, throwing clothes and toiletries aside without thought of sorting. If it was a present, there should be a box. A matching earring to complete the set.

  She took a deep breath. Think, Brooke. There’s got to be an explanation for this. Maybe he’d found it at the hotel and meant to leave it at the front desk. Maybe someone had asked him to hold on to it. Maybe he wanted to get his own ear pierced and was nervous to tell her.

  Her hands shook as she again searched the items, looking for something to help this make sense.

  Nothing.

  Her legs buckled and Brooke sank to the floor, staring at the earring. Her mind exploded with the countless fights she’d overheard between her parents over Shandi. Had Antonio really been on business this weekend? Or had it been a cover?

  This couldn’t be happening to her.

  Her mother’s heartbroken voice floated into her head. “All men are cheaters, Brooklyn. They can’t help it. It doesn’t matter how good they have it at home, the grass is always greener on the other side.” She remembered so well those late night chats on her mother’s bed after her parents split.

  Could there really be another woman?

  The ladder creaked, and Antonio’s head appeared. “The kitchen is clean,” he said. Standing straight, his head nearly brushed the loft ceiling.

  Brooke didn’t move from where she sat on the floor. She held up the earring as though it carried some infectious disease. Stay calm. Maybe there’s a logical explanation. “Want to explain this to me?”


  Antonio looked startled. “What is it?”

  “An earring.”

  “From where?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “Never trust a man, Brooklyn.” Brooke laughed, but it was hollow. “I found it in the bottom of your suitcase.”

  Antonio shrugged. “Oh. Maybe it’s Jeanette’s, from the gallery. She wasn’t feeling well one night and I told her I had aspirin in my bag. Maybe it fell in without her noticing.”

  Brooke rose, her heart pounding. He’s lying to my face! She threw the earring at Antonio. “You expect me to believe you let some random girl from the gallery go through your luggage?”

  He caught the earring. “Yes, because that’s what happened. I don’t know, maybe the earring got there some other way. But I don’t know how. Why are you so upset, bella?”

  “Let me make sure I understand this. A girl from the gallery in San Diego had a headache. You told her to go up to your room, paw through your luggage, and find pain reliever. In the process she lost an earring.” Brooke ticked the items off on her finger as she listed them.

  “Five people from the gallery were in my hotel room last night. We had a few drinks and talked business. So yes, when she had a headache, I told her to get the Aspirin herself.” His voice was so sincere, his face so open and vulnerable. Just like when he told her he loved her for the first time.

  Brooke picked apart his argument, looking for a flaw. He could be lying. This could be the forgotten earring of some scarlet woman with whom he’d had a torrid affair.

  Or he could be telling the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d met with contacts in his room on business, and he wasn’t exactly possessive of his personal property. It sounded like something he’d do. She’d blown the whole thing out of proportion.