“Brooke, stand!” she demands, grabbing my arm and pulling me rudely from my chair.
“What are you doing?” I snap. “Addie, stop.”
“Brooke!” she hisses in my ear, placing her hands to my cheeks from behind. Once she positions my head where she’s focused, I see him.
He’s dressed in a suave suit, filling out every inch, as if it were made for only him. His hair is kept, as always combed and styled. His hands are in his pockets as he watches the woman in the red dress flirt with Ashton.
Brock is here.
“Why did he come?” I whisper to myself, but Addie’s there.
“I think the question should be, ‘who did he come here for?’”
Green. All I see is green. The anger, the sadness, the inevitable heartache I’ve been suffering pushes the envy to that one woman left in the room that I can see.
And she’s talking to my brother!
“Addie, who is she?”
“No idea,” she breathes. “But damn, Brock looks good.”
“I’m leaving,” I cop out. Grabbing my purse, I turn to run the other way.
Surprisingly, I make it four steps before my dad’s big chest blocks my way.
“No, Button,” he says. I don’t look up. I can’t.
The disappointment that I know is sketching his face will be too much. And I’ve already had a bad day. It can’t get worse, can it?
“Dad, I want to leave.”
“He called, you know,” Dad baits.
“Who called?” I question, finally moving my eyes to meet his. “Who?”
“Brock.”
He called my dad?
“He has a question for you.”
Shit.
“I haven’t talked to him.”
Nodding, Dad’s disappointment shines only a little. “I know. He told me that, too. He called Ashton, asking for me. Ashton gave him my number. He called two days ago.”
“You told him to come here?”
“I told him he had my permission.”
“He’s with someone,” I remind him with regret.
“Brooke,” he says quietly. “No. That’s his little sister.”
“Tate,” I remember.
Nodding, Dad bends to kiss my forehead. “I love you, Button.”
“Baby.” The familiar voice I’ve missed since last hearing it comes with a gale force wind of mixed emotions from behind me.
“You got this?” Dad questions, looking over my head and talking to Brock.
I hear Brock respond, and without seeing it, I know he’s smiling. “I’ve got this. Thank you.”
Wrapping his strong arms around me, Dad whispers into my ear, “I approve of him, Brooke. Now talk to him.”
“I never figured you for a traitor,” I smart. “Really, Dad. Mom, maybe. You? Never.”
Laughing, Dad pulls me back and holds me by the arms. Squeezing, he says, “Go do what you should’ve done a week ago.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
I told her she was going to marry me.
Brock
-
My life would be much easier if the first woman I ever fell in love with were a lot less stubborn.
“You wouldn’t return my texts,” I accuse, hiding my impatience if only for the sake of Sam’s guests who are dancing around us. “And you wouldn’t answer my calls.”
Guilt washes over Brooke’s face before she half-smiles. I’ve missed that fucking smile more than I thought I had.
“I’ve been busy,” she passes off.
“You blocked my number,” I correct.
More guilt wades, but this time she gives me the truth in doubt. “I wasn’t sure you’d still want—”
Pulling her into me as close as she’ll allow, I lean down and take in a deep, relieving breath. “I love you, Brooke. I’m not leaving again. I’m staying here and I’ll stalk you into being with me if I have to.”
Brooke looks up and for the first time in as many miserable weeks we’ve been apart, I see exactly what I hoped I would.
Her answer is yes, and I didn’t even have to ask.
But I will.
“You’re not leaving?”
“Never.”
“What about your company? Your job?”
“Brooke—”
“What about your family? Your friends? What about Drew!”
“Brooke—”
“What if you miss them and—”
Losing more of my already weary patience, I interrupt, “Woman, if I miss them then we’ll go see them together. I have a job here with Ashton. I agreed to partner with your families’ business. Now if you’d shut up and let me finish what I came here to do, I can get you out of here, out of that dress, and do what I want to do to you.”
“Oh my,” she breathes as I pull the black box from the inside pocket of my suit. When I start to take a knee, she releases another breath and her eyes fill with happy tears.
“I love you, Brooke Malloy. You’re a pain in the ass, and fuck me but I love you. I told you you’d marry me. Now I’m asking.”
“Brock—” she hesitates.
“Marry me, Brooke.”
“I love you,” she replies without an answer.
“Marry me.”
“Yes!” she finally agrees with excitement.
As I stand, sliding on her finger the simple but elegant ring I bought what feels so long ago, the guests around us cheer and clap.
Brooke awkwardly drops to her knees where she hugs me so tight I can hardly breathe.
Everything I’ve done in my life has come to this. Every frustrating moment with her has been worth it.
Brooke is who I was always supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
And thank God our life together is about to start.
Epilogue
That’s a wrap
Brooke
-
“If you keep touching me, you’ll make us late,” I protest, but doing so just barely as Brock’s hands are exactly where I like them to be.
“Fuck them,” he hisses in my ear before biting down, sending a violent shiver of lust between my legs. “Fuck everyone here.”
“Brock, stop. We came all this way for a reason. Why not make the most of it?”
When Matt and Willow tag teamed to coerce Brock and I into coming back to L.A. to do one final follow-up show, Brock refused. I had mixed feelings.
On one hand, I had no desire to ever step foot back in this city and all its crazy again. On the other, I wanted closure. Part of me also wanted the world, namely Kylee Simmons, to know Brock was really mine.
Sighing, Brock lifts his head. His beautiful eyes scan my face. “Doing this today will cause another shit storm. I know it. All the same people will be there.”
He’s lying. That’s not the reason. Though our time in being hounded by the press has passed, Brock’s more worried about who I’ll see again.
“You’re jealous,” I smart, running my fingers down his cheek and tracing the line of his jaw. “Evan is happy. I wasn’t the woman for him.”
“No?” He smirks. “You were, but the asshat wasn’t the man for you.”
Sucking in my lips to hide my smile, I test his patience.
“Brooke,” he growls. “Don’t start.”
“Who is the man for me?” I ask as his hands lift the hem of his shirt I’m wearing in our hotel room bed.
“Not Evan. Not Sam Hunt,” he mumbles, dragging my panties past my knees and stopping long enough to kiss my inner thigh.
As he brings his body above mine, positioning himself at my entrance, I lift my head from the pillow to kiss him. Soft, slow, and with a familiarity that comes with truly knowing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Brock
-
“So, we understand there’s going to be a wedding?” Matt asserts, sitting on the couch across from ours.
The small stage isn’t set in front of an audience. The only people in the room are those running t
he cameras, Matt, Brooke, and me. I negotiated this to save my sanity. I didn’t want to look at any of the women I’d met here before. There aren’t any good memories of lasting friendships I’d consider keeping other than Ryleigh who has already become a staple in Brooke’s life.
“Yes,” Brooke answers when I don’t. Her hand squeezes my knee, reading the annoyance I’m asserting as I endure all of this against my will. “In September.”
“Congratulations,” Matt extends. “Where will you two live?”
This was a discussion that did and didn’t take place. The decision was made by me and explained to Brooke in a way she understood I had no intentions of debating or compromising.
After meeting her, shortly after falling in love with her, I knew my life wouldn’t ever go back to being as it was.
In truth, I hate my job. I hate Dallas. I hate living in the shadow of my father.
So when I walked into his office three days after Brooke finally accepted my proposal, I had planned to quit. But, being that Martin Merritt is not only a genius of a man, but also my father, he knew what I was going to say and said it for me.
For the first time since graduating college, I left his office feeling as though he was proud.
“We’re going to live near Brooke’s family,” I put in. Matt’s eyes move to mine. “And you don’t need to know where.”
Brooke’s face blushes but she smiles. I’m tired of living my life with others watching. She’s the only person on earth who understands.
“Brock is going to help my little brother run our family business,” she adds in an attempt to smooth my rudeness. “So, after this we’re going house hunting.”
“I hope you keep us all up to date on your future plans. You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you,” Brooke returns. I say nothing.
“We have our next year’s contestant picked out. We’re in negotiations as we speak. Would you like to meet her?”
“No,” I clip over Brooke’s, “Sure.”
“Let’s bring her out.”
When Matt stands, directing his attention to the door opening behind us, I continue looking forward, but Brooke’s gasp as she walks in the room has me curious.
“I don’t think introductions are necessary,” Matt says, smiling down at me.
When Brooke’s best friend Addie comes to kiss Brooke on the cheek, I stand.
“You didn’t...” Brooke starts, but stops, obviously unsure what to say next. “You’re not doing this.”
Shaking her head, breaking into a huge smile, she winks while coming to me and slapping me hard on the back. “Marry The Hostess.”
Oh, fuck no.
I don’t take from Addie’s enthusiasm. I can’t. Brooke looks so happy as they hug and whisper between them.
“I’m going to be on television,” she chides at us both. “My name. In big lights. With men begging at my feet.”
This woman has no idea.
“Reality TV!” she continues, lifting her hands above her head. “Here I come!”
Matt smirks. Brooke and Addie giggle. I say nothing. I just want to go home. To my new home, with Brooke.
Fuck reality television.
F*CK Reality: Take One Page 32