“I can take you home,” I offer. “If you need to go, I’ll understand.”
“No,” she returns, heading toward the bathroom and removing her shirt before she gets to the door. “I’m going to shower.”
While Brooke’s busy, I grab my phone. I’m hopeful for word from my dad, but the only text I have is from Tate.
Tate 06:47 p.m.: Have you thought about running away?
The answer is yes.
Fuck. Yes.
Chapter Sixty
How long does it take for your heart to forgive you?
Brooke
-
“Man, Willow looks good. How old is she, anyway?” Sam questions, holding the tub of popcorn to her chest, not looking at any of us as she voices her curiosity. She’s studying the screen as if the breaking of my heart isn’t being broadcasted for the world to see.
“Forty, maybe?” Addie answers.
My mind is numb. My heart is crushed. My spirit is broken.
The weariness I’ve succumbed to continues as Kylee’s face is plastered across the screen, showcasing her plastic smile. The other girls I came to know during my time there are all sitting behind her in high-rise chairs. Ryleigh is smiling, though it’s not real. Emilee is scowling in Kylee’s direction, not caring that the cameras can see her. The others are sitting straight, not offering so much as a glance to the audience.
“He looks mortified,” Addie observes. “As in, he’s about to throw up.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Sam counters. “Kylee is the devil in a dress. Why did the audience choose her, anyway? I mean, really. The woman is awful.”
“She’s going to hurt him,” I whisper between us from my middle seat on the couch. “He doesn’t want this.”
“No, honey,” Addie replies, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her. “He doesn’t.”
“Oh God. I’m such a witch,” Sam breathes, sitting up and freeing her hands. She turns to me and says, “The wedding is next weekend. I’m getting married, and yet I’m sitting here watching the man you love marry someone else.”
Smiling, though it’s small, I reply, “This doesn’t change anything about your big day, Sam. No way. Everything that’s happened happened for a reason, right?”
Shaking her head, she returns, “No, Brooke. Everything that’s happened is shit luck. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” I tell her, reaching for the remote and clicking the television off. “What’s done is done, and if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to be alone, if that’s okay.”
Patting my thigh, Addie eases my sadness, if only a little. “For what it’s worth, he picked you. I know that probably doesn’t make any of this okay, but it’s the truth. He loves you, Brooke. Take at least some comfort in that.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t allow them to fall. Taking heed in Addie’s truth does help. Not much, but it does.
“I’ll be fine. You two go on home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“We have the final fitting in the morning. If you can’t make it—”
Cutting Sam off, I advise, “I’ll be there, I promise. And by the time the sun comes up, I’m going to be back to the person you remember.”
She doesn’t believe me. Neither of my friends do.
“If you’re not the old Brooke, that’s okay,” Addie jokes. “I like the new girl. She’s crazy.”
“You’re crazy,” I retort.
Sam isn’t deterred by my façade. “I’m so sorry,” she says, pulling me in for another hug.
“Go home. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
An hour later, I’m still sitting in front of the television. It’s not on, but I haven’t found the motivation to move. Not because I don’t have a thousand things I should be doing, but because why bother? My mind is heavy, and my heart is breaking.
Pulling out my phone, I check for messages to find only one. It was sent from Brock right before the show began.
Brock 06:51 p.m.: I love you. Don’t give up on me.
Letting the tears finally fall, I run my fingertips over the screen, as if I can feel his doing the same.
Then I type my final response before blocking his number from my phone.
Me 07:48 p.m.: Congratulations, Brock. Be happy.
After I’ve blocked his number and removed him from my contacts, I shut the phone off completely, lay it down, close my eyes, and pray he doesn’t find me in my dreams.
Chapter Sixty-One
Who the hell is Leah Wilson?
Brock
-
“You’ll stand here, and Kylee will meet you as soon as the music starts,” Jerry explains, pointing to the door my soon-to-be wife and forever she-devil will enter.
Over the past two days, Jerry has transformed from an uptight assistant to a complete head case. He’s been popping antacids like Skittles, and clutching the same bottle of thick, pink liquid as if it’s the last bottle ever made to be sold.
“I’m ready, Jerry,” I reassure him again. Looking around the decorated area where I’ll pledge my oath as a husband for as long as I have to, I ask, “Where’s Clive?”
I wouldn’t let anyone from home come to witness my demise. The live broadcast will hurt them enough. I would find some comfort in Clive’s company, though.
“He’s on his way,” Jerry promises. “There have been some...” Pausing, he looks to the sky while curling his top lip. “I’ve heard there are some ends to be clipped before we can officially start. Matt invited last year’s couple back tonight to start things off. We have time.”
“Ends to clip?”
Nodding, he brushes me off with, “No worries. Everything is set.”
Scanning the area, I notice that not only is Clive missing, but also Matt and Willow. To be honest, the only people around is Taylor, the one man makeup brigade, and Kate.
Kate’s standing by the door, leaning against its jamb, and watching me closely.
“I’ll be back. Sit tight. There’s a bar across the way.” Jerry points to a gazebo. The bartender on duty looks as bored as I am stressed. “Have yourself a stiff drink, Brock. It’ll most likely be your last as a single man.”
Hearing him put it like that, my stomach twists.
“Thanks,” I reply, walking around him and toward Kate.
Once I approach, her curious gaze finds mine. She’s up to something. The sweet face I’ve come to appreciate in the midst of all this shit appears both full of mischief and excitement. I don’t share in either.
“Kate,” I call. “Where are the other girls?”
Still smirking, she answers, “Wardrobe.”
“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” she states simply. “Brock, Kylee is awful.”
Smiling for the first time today, I reply, “She is.”
“She’s evil,” she adds, looking down. “Do you know who Evan chose?”
Evan’s happy nuptials follow directly after mine. I don’t know who he chose, nor do I care in the least.
“I have no idea.”
When Kate’s eyes come back to mine, her expression softens. “I heard something.”
Intrigued, I ask, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I heard Matt in his office this morning. He was yelling at Willow.”
I don’t particularly care for Willow, but knowing she may be getting her ass reamed, I don’t like Matt now either.
“I think the show is in for another twist.”
Shit. I’m so tired of these ‘twists.’ “What?”
“I’m going to congratulate you now in case I don’t see you later.” Kate’s small body shakes with her giggle. Women make me suspicious. Lifting her hand, she waves. “Good luck, Brock.”
As she walks away, I turn in the other direction to go see about that drink.
“Brock, you got a minute?” Matt pulls my attention away from Taylor, also saving me from another round of last minute face powder. Taylor huffs and rolls his eyes, but steps back.
“What’s up
?”
His jaw tightens. Through clenched teeth, he hisses, “We have a problem.”
What now?
“I didn’t do it,” I clip. “Whatever it is, I had nothing to do with it.”
Nodding, relaxing only a little, he assures, “No, I know. But—”
Before he can finish, an extremely irate Kylee bursts through the door, wearing only a white silk robe and a pair of god awful fuzzy slippers. Her hair is in rollers, her makeup half done, and her expression is furious. Not for the first time, I wonder how someone can look as she does but be so insecure she thrives to bring others down.
“Matt!” she shrieks, coming at us in a rapid pace. “Matt!” she calls again as he keeps his gaze on mine before rolling his eyes and turning around.
“What the fuck?” I ask, now standing at his side. “What’s happening?”
Leaning closer, he advises, “Let me handle this.”
When he turns to Clive, who I finally see smiling ear to ear and coming up behind Kylee, Matt nods. Clive bends to grab his camera, props it up on his shoulder, and starts to tape.
“I thought tonight was supposed to be live?”
“Oh, it will be. But we’ll want this for later.”
Matt’s sudden feigned relaxed state causes my pulse to quicken.
So, really. What the fuck?
“You had no right to do that!” Kylee snaps, getting in Matt’s face once she’s close.
I step back, wanting in no way to be a target of her fury.
Pointing her finger to his chest, she claims, “What happened prior to any of this was none of your business.”
“It absolutely was my business,” Matt replies, as if bored. “You lied, Kylee. You signed that contract.”
“Lied?” I pipe up with vested interest. “Lied about what?”
Kylee turns to me, smiling sweetly and aiming to look innocent. “Nothing,” she answers. “This is all just a small misunderstanding.”
I like misunderstandings, those that could potentially free me from this mess, anyway.
“Matt,” she addresses calmly. “I need to talk to you.” Looking to me, she speaks, but her words are still for him. “I need to talk to you in private.”
“We have nothing to talk about, Kylee. It’s done. Over.”
“Over?” I question.
Jesus Christ, what’s over?
Turning in place, Matt nods to me. I don’t know what that means, so I probe, “Matt, what’s happening?”
“Brock, to make up for this, we’re inviting you back next year. If you’d be willing to come back, that is.”
“Come back?”
“No!” Kylee screams. Her hair is starting to fall from its rollers. Her hands shake at her sides, and her usually flawless face turns a nasty shade of putrid gray.
“Brock, you’re not getting married.”
Blinking twice, I find his words impossible, but hopeful.
“I’m not getting married,” I confirm for myself, tasting the promise and savoring its meaning.
Coming up from behind Kylee, Willow appears just as angry. Her face is pensive, her posture rigid.
“Kylee, let’s go now,” Willow demands. “You’re done.”
“I’m not done!” she shrieks. “I’m getting married!”
Her face has contorted to utter fear. The woman I once thought had too much confidence looks downright terrified not to be getting what she wants. If all this is right and I’m not marrying this lunatic, I dodged one hell of a fucking bullet.
Slowing her roll, Kylee’s entire demeanor morphs from anger to defeat.
Turning in place, Matt and I watch Kylee being led out of the area, not only by Willow, but also two overly enthused security guards. When one reaches to grab her arm, she fists her hand and pulls herself from his grasp. Turning in place, she levels her eyes to Willow and hisses something I miss.
Matt and I stand and watch as she loses a slipper on her way, but doesn’t look back to claim it. Thank fuck I’m not her Prince Charming anymore. I’m not touching the damn thing.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was...” Matt stops, smiles, then covers his mouth with his hand. “That was desperation. Her name isn’t Kylee Simmons. Her given name is Leah Wilson.”
“Leah Wilson? As in the ex-cheerleader?”
What?
I watch a lot of sports, baseball mainly, but I had heard the story of a rogue cheerleader out of Seattle who’d been jailed a few years ago for stalking a player in his home. She’d approached his wife and children on several occasions, going so far as to applying for a job as their nanny, even though the position was never posted.
“This will make headlines, I think,” he justifies.
“You hope,” I correct. “And headlines will—”
“Will help Willow with her ratings,” he finishes.
“Son of a bitch,” I mumble.
“So, you’re free. I hope you consider coming back next season. The viewers at home loved you. They’ll feel sorry for you after hearing about this.”
“I’m not coming back, Matt.” I don’t have to think twice. He knows this, I’m sure.
Confirming, he replies. “Well, then. You’re free to go get your girl. Give my best to Brooke, will you?”
Hell yes, I’m going to get my girl.
Shaking his hand, I smile the first true smile I have since I left her in the first place. “Good luck, Matt. Tell Willow the same.”
I don’t wait for his response, but rather turn in place to ask Clive for a much needed ride out of this crazy town and all the madness that dwells within it.
Chapter Sixty-Two
My dad is a traitor.
One week later...
Brooke
-
“Are you sure you don’t want another drink?” Sam asks, grabbing the chair next to mine before taking a seat. Elbows to the table, her hand holding her chin, she tells me, “I’ll have the bartender make whatever you want.”
Brushing her sweet offer away, I advise, “I’m okay. I’m not staying too much longer. When do you throw the bridal bouquet?”
“Soon.”
Sam’s wedding was beautiful, the reception fun, and finally the evening is almost over. I studiously completed all of the maid of honor duties. I spent all morning prepping with the others and doting on what a beautiful bride Sam made, along with gloating about how gorgeous her groom was. I stood at her side in the mirror, reassuring all her last minute doubts, while ignoring the pangs of jealousy and heartache in longing for what she had.
My family showed up in the nick of time. My brother was wearing a suit, my dad a nice shirt and khakis, and my mom wore her Sunday best. I nearly broke.
It’s been a week since Brock left a felon at the altar before Willow made the announcement of ‘complications which caused the season for Brock to come to an end.’ The reporters have been relentless toward Kylee and her past life’s indiscretions. Some went as far as to personally ridicule the audience’s chosen bride for Brock.
I’ll admit, the image of Kylee Simmons sporting orange prison gear, if only for the term of ninety days, made my broken heart smirk in rebellion.
When Addie came storming into the inn after seeing the episode, her intent was to give me the inside story. Adamantly, not wanting to hear a word about it, good or bad, I pushed her away. She was startled at my reaction, citing this was good news, great news, and that I should be excited. She went on to counsel me about calling Brock at once, then book a flight to wherever he was. But, in truth, after the last few months of drama and heartache, I had nothing else to give.
And I still don’t.
“You look sad,” Sam comments, running her hand through the back of my hair. “I wish you’d rethink—”
Shaking my head as tears fill my eyes, I cut her off. “Sam, no.”
“Talk to her, Addie,” Sam exhales, sitting back in her chair with defeat. “I need to find Sean. I don’t want him worrying that I’ve
fled the scene.”
The touch of Addie’s hand to my shoulder doesn’t help. Addie takes the seat Sam leaves before grabbing a random glass of champagne from the table and downing it quickly. Once finished, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and slumps her shoulders.
“Nothing from Brock?” she questions for the eleventh time this evening.
“Addie,” I whine. “No.”
I blocked his number. She doesn’t know this, and there’s no reason to explain my reason in doing so. They’re mine.
“You know...” She smiles.
Have I mentioned I hate her smiles?
“What?”
“Brad Woodbury came to tell the happy couple congratulations.”
Rolling my eyes, I sit back and pin her with my best third grade evil eye.
Raising her hands in surrender, Addie promises, “I said nothing. But, he’s alone.”
“Again, Addie. Stop.”
Shrugging, she gives in and says nothing else.
An hour later, I’m still sitting at the same table alone, scanning the crowd. Addie is dancing with my dad, a faster song than I’d prefer he jive to considering he was just released from the hospital after a heart attack that had him in a coma for the longest six days of my life. My brother is standing near the bar, probably wishing he was old enough to drink. And my mom is talking to Sam’s parents, enjoying the banter between them.
A tall, thin, beautiful blonde woman wearing a short, red evening gown, accented with heavy, but elegant jewels, strides through the door. Her hair is swept up from her neck; wistful strands hanging from the clip holding it all together. Her bronze skin shimmers in the light. Ashton takes notice and turns his entire body in her direction. She smiles, he smiles, and I think what it would be like to turn a man’s head the way that woman just did.
I did turn a head that way, but a lot of good it did me. I’m alone, sitting at a table, watching guests be merry.
Sad.
Just as the woman makes a move toward Ashton, Addie’s back at my side in a flash. I hadn’t even seen her coming.
F*CK Reality: Take One Page 31