by Lauren Layne
Her eyes narrowed in warning. “Is that really what you wanted to say to me?”
He sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I just found all this out seconds before you walked in, and I’m still dealing with it.”
“What do you mean you found out? How?”
Well, here went nothing.
“I hired someone,” he said, refusing to let the statement come out as guilty. “I hired someone to look into Neil. Ned. Whatever.”
Brooke’s mouth fell open. “You have got to be kidding me.”
He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Okay,” she said, seeming to take this in. “Okay, at least tell me Maya knows. That you didn’t go behind her back to research her fiancé.”
He stared at her silently.
“Oh my God, Seth,” Brooke breathed. “You know, for all your talk about how clueless Maya and I are, you’re clueless on a whole other level.”
He ignored this. “I did it to protect her. And it’s a damn good thing, because if I hadn’t found this out, she’d have married a man who didn’t love her, who’d have taken all her money and made her miserable.”
“And that would have been her mistake to make,” Brooke said quietly.
“But—”
“No but,” Brooke said, coming around the table so they were face-to-face. “You were right about Neil, apparently, and I’ll give you that. But what you did was wrong on every level. Going behind her back? You’re not God, Seth.”
“And what was the better alternative?” he snapped. “Letting her get hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke said tiredly. “Maybe? I mean, I guess now that we know, we can’t actually let her marry him without knowing the facts, but you interfered in the worst kind of way.”
“Because I love her,” he argued.
Brooke shook her head. “That’s not love.”
Seth froze. Her words were a carbon copy of what Grant had said to him a couple of weeks earlier. Two of the people he cared about most were telling him verbatim that he didn’t know how to love.
That he didn’t even know what love was.
And damn it . . . damn it, but it hurt. It tore at his soul like a savage beast out for blood. Because right now he didn’t feel like a man who couldn’t love.
He felt like a man whose every fiber was filled with love for a person who was standing there looking at him with disdain and pity.
Well, screw this. Screw her. Brooke thought he was heartless? He’d show her what stone-cold really looked like.
“And I suppose you do know what love is,” he struck out. “You’ve experienced it in all its lovey-dovey glory?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be embarrassed or ashamed. Good for her. “Yes. I did.”
“With Clay,” he said, stepping forward.
Brook hesitated just a second too long before nodding. “Yes. He and I didn’t end well for obvious reasons, and he was . . . he was not a good person. I don’t doubt for one second that he did care about me. He did know how to love, because I felt it.”
“Yeah?” Seth asked cruelly. “Then maybe you can tell me why he’s engaged to another woman.”
Brooke didn’t move. Not even to blink. “What?” Her voice wobbled, and she cleared her throat. “What?” she asked again, more clearly this time.
For a moment, Seth panicked, wanting to take his words back more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. To go back thirty seconds, hell, go back thirty minutes, and quit acting like an idiotic defensive animal in pain, lashing out like a moron. He was more evolved than this, surely.
But the words were out there now, and he couldn’t take them back. Wasn’t even sure he wanted to, because he’d need to confess sometime, and it might as well be now, when she was already hating his guts. Maybe if he ripped off the Band-Aid all at once, he’d still have a chance.
“How the hell would you know . . . oh my God.” Brooke was staring at him in miserable understanding. “Your private investigator. You had him look into Clay, too.”
Seth nodded.
“Unbelievable,” she spat out. “You really think you can control people the way you do your business. You really equate your power trips with affection.”
“I won’t apologize for trying to protect you,” he said woodenly.
“What about Maya? Are you going to apologize to her?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “And she’ll be mad for a while, but at least she won’t marry the guy.”
“So you get everything you want,” Brooke said quietly. “Everything’s exactly as you want it, all tidy and in order as it should be, according to Seth.”
“Not everything.” Seth was swift to correct, reaching toward her and dropping his hand when she stepped back. “I won’t have everything I want if you walk out that door, Brooke.”
He held her eyes, begging her to understand, and for a second he saw something flicker, and he felt hope swell hot and potent through his veins.
“You don’t get it, Seth,” she said, her voice rising. “You really don’t get it. You understand, right, that what you did is no different from what Clay did? More legal, maybe, but you hid the truth from me just like he did. You let me believe you were something you’re not. You hurt me, Seth. Just like he did. Maybe worse.”
His heart felt like it was being ripped in two. “Brooke, no, it wasn’t like that. I just wanted . . . needed to know that you were okay.”
“It’s not always about what you need!” she shouted. “You tell yourself that you’re acting for the sake of those you care about, but you’re only out to protect yourself. This is about you and your selfish compulsion to control everything around you, so don’t for one minute expect me to believe you actually care.”
“I do care,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You’ve made me believe that the happy endings do exist, and I wanted—”
“Stop,” she interrupted. “Stop right there. Happily ever after does exist. I won’t let you take that belief away from me. But Seth, my happily ever after is not with you. Let’s be very clear on that.”
She turned away, and his eyes closed in silent misery.
She was halfway to the door before he could find any more words. “Would it help if I told you why I did it?” he asked desperately to her retreating back. “If I told you why I asked the detective to look into Clay?”
Brooke paused but didn’t turn around. Waiting.
It was because I love you.
But by the time he finally uttered the words out loud to his cavernous office, Brooke was long gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
BROOKE? YOU’RE STILL HERE?”
“Yep,” Brooke called out in response, not glancing up from her computer screen as she perused Pinterest for ideas on her latest client’s vision for a wine-and-cheese-tasting-themed bridal shower party.
Sounded right up her alley.
Especially the wine part. Especially these days.
Heather came into Brooke’s office, plopping in her chair and helping herself to some of Brooke’s Hershey’s Kisses. Not that there were many left—she’d been going through them at twice the normal rate lately. Between the chocolate, the cabernet, and Seth Tyler, Brooke was well on her way to an early death.
“Looks like I’m not the only one being super lame tonight,” Heather observed.
“I don’t think working late is lame. I love my job.”
“Honey, it’s eight thirty. On a Friday,” Heather said pointedly.
Brooke sighed. Okay. So it was kind of lame. But for the past two weeks, work had been the only thing holding the fragile parts of her heart together.
It turned out that Seth’s spy had been dead-on about Clay being engaged. To a woman he’d met in prison, of all things.
Not only that. They’d eloped. Or whatever you called it when two people who barely knew each other went down to a courthouse and made it legal. The story had broken online in the hours after Brooke had stormed out of
Seth’s office, prompting a barrage of well-meaning but painful texts and calls from her parents and friends out in California.
Not that Brooke had issues with courthouse weddings. She respected that for some couples they were the right thing. She just hated that one half of one of those couples was the man she had been a stone’s throw from marrying.
And yet, Clay’s shotgun wedding wasn’t what was bothering her. Her pride, yes, but not her heart.
Her heartache was courtesy of a man she’d known for a small fraction of the time she’d known Clay, and yet somehow had fallen for twice as hard.
And to give Seth credit, he had called. Several times. In the first days after she’d walked out, she’d missed calls and texts and flowers.
But after those few dogged days of silence on her part, there’d been . . . nothing.
He’d given up.
Brooke wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. And yes, she knew that made her seem like a game player. As though she wasn’t sure she wanted him but also wasn’t okay with him not wanting her.
It was all just damn confusing.
“Do you want to go out?” Heather asked. “Grab a drink?”
Brooke gave her an apologetic look. “I kind of . . . don’t.”
“Excellent,” Heather chirped, tucking a blond curl behind her ear only to have it pop right back out again. “Me neither.”
With that, Heather bent down to the oversized tote between her feet and came up with a half-full bottle of wine and two plastic cups.
Brooke watched as Heather poured them two glasses and then acting on impulse, reached out and gave the other woman a hug.
Heather hugged her back, smoothing her hair. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“Me too,” Brooke whispered. “He was supposed to be one of the good ones. Crotchety, but good.”
“Maybe he still is,” Heather said as they pulled back. “I mean, it was lame what he did. So lame. But I think we can give him at least a little teeny tiny point for his heart being in the right place, you know? He didn’t want his sister to marry a shithead. He didn’t want you to be dragged down by your shithead.”
“I guess,” Brooke said, swirling her wine. “I just can’t shake off the sting of betrayal. Two men in a row who don’t come clean. And if he didn’t tell me about his creepy little spying plan, who knows what else he didn’t tell me about?”
“True that,” Heather said, sighing and taking a large gulp of wine.
Brooke bit her lip. “Have you heard how things are going with the Tyler wedding?”
Heather shook her head. “Sorry, no. That’s all Alexis, and she doesn’t really mention it.”
After her fallout with Seth, Brooke had reluctantly abdicated her role as wedding planner for Maya’s nuptials. She felt terrible, but there was no way she could have faced Maya, knowing what she knew about Neil, or whatever his name was, and not saying anything. She kept expecting to hear that the wedding had been called off, but so far it looked like everything was moving forward as planned, though she couldn’t imagine that Seth would hold his tongue and actually let Maya go through with marrying that jerk.
She stifled another surge of anger at Seth. This was why you didn’t go meddling in other people’s business. Finding out things you weren’t supposed to know, knowing secrets that weren’t yours . . . it messed everything up.
“Has he called lately?” Heather asked over the top of her plastic wine cup.
Brooke shook her head. “Nope.”
“How do we feel about that?”
“Terrible,” Brooke muttered. “But seeing him would also be terrible, you know?”
“Sort of. Actually, no, not really.”
Brooke reached for a piece of chocolate and held it up for Heather to see. “It’s a bit like this piece of candy. It’s so good. And also so not good for you. You know?”
“Super eloquent,” Heather said, patting her knee before leaning back once more. “And don’t hate me for saying this, but are you sure that maybe you don’t need closure with Mr. Hotel Trillionaire? I mean, you didn’t get it with Clay, and look what happened with that. Breakdown city.”
Brooke laughed as she unwrapped the Hershey’s Kiss and popped it in her mouth. “I so love these little chats of ours. I have you to dole out the snarky straight talk, and Alexis to dole out the practical straight talk. Even Jessie is a straight shooter, she just coats it in sugar. Where’s the friend who tells me what I want to hear?”
“I think you’re that friend,” Heather said. “So when I fall in love and want to hear that I did the right thing by dumping a hot rich dude half in love with me, you come to my office and have one of these pep talks, ’kay?”
“Seth wasn’t half in love with me,” Brooke rushed to say.
Heather blew out a breath. “Okay, I know you don’t want to hear this, but if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have done what he did. He was highhanded, yes. A little sketchy with his forthcomingness, yes. But did he tell you why?”
“No,” Brooke admitted. “I think he tried to, but his tongue got tied, and . . .”
“And . . .?”
“I walked away. And ignored all of his calls.”
Heather’s expression was kind but direct as she nudged the Hershey’s Kiss bowl in Brooke’s direction. “What do you think he was about to say?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke whispered.
Except Brooke was terrified that she did know, and it filled her with a strange swirl of elation and dread.
What Seth had done was wrong. Instead of talking to his sister about his concerns, instead of trusting her, he’d assumed that he knew best. Because he loved her. Which didn’t make his actions okay. That kind of love could be stifling and do a hell of a lot more harm than good.
And yet . . .
And yet, Brooke was certain that Maya and Seth would come through it. That Seth could learn how to love and respect boundaries.
Which begged the question: Had he had Clay investigated for the same reason?
Because he loved Brooke?
And if he did . . .
Just what the hell was she going to do about it?
Chapter Thirty-Two
ETTA HAD GOTTEN SO sick of Seth interrupting her, asking for medicine, that she’d started leaving the pill bottles on Seth’s desk as a preemptive measure. They both pretended they were for tension headaches, but they both knew better. His head hurt, yes. But the main source of tension was in his chest.
And not in the “oh shit, call 911” type of chest pain. After his father’s death, Seth had gotten acquainted real fast with his cardiologist, and so far, his ticker looked exactly as it should for a man in his early thirties.
No, Seth’s chest hurt from something even more timeless than clogged arteries.
It was women.
Women made his chest hurt.
Specifically, a blond wedding planner who was no longer his wedding planner. Or his sister’s wedding planner, if one wanted to get specific about it.
Seth understood why Brooke had passed off Maya’s wedding to Alexis. He respected the choice, even, because Brooke was a consummate professional, and the conflict of interest would have killed her.
But it didn’t make him miss her any less.
The emails he received from Alexis Morgan at the end of every business day were perfectly fine. Professional, to the point, and loaded with details of his sister’s wedding that he didn’t give a crap about. Bows. Blooms. Even the decision to use ivory candles instead of pure white, as though Seth gave a fuck.
Because yes, the wedding was still happening. Maya was still marrying a man she thought to be Neil Garrett.
Seth hadn’t told her the truth.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced such acute agony as knowing something that his baby sister needed to know but also knowing that he’d come about the information in the entirely wrong way.
Seth had two options, to tell her or not to tell her, and both seemed unbearably se
lfish.
If he didn’t tell her, she’d enter into a relationship with an imposter, but at least she wouldn’t blame Seth when it went sideways. To Brooke’s point, he’d be letting Maya lead her own life, her way.
If he did tell her, she’d hate his guts for not telling her about the investigation he’d launched, but at least she’d be free of the dirtbag. Because much as Seth was realizing that he shouldn’t know what he knew, he couldn’t unlearn it.
Hell.
Seth reached for one of the pill bottles. Maybe he did have the ol’ tension headache after all.
It was the end of the workday, and he’d turned down all business dinner obligations, so at the very least he was spared the company of other people.
The downside?
Yet another night at home. Alone. In his hotel suite.
With no sister, since she was in bridezilla panic mode.
No best friend, since he and Grant were still chilly as all hell.
And no Brooke.
At this point, Seth was about five minutes from asking Jared the Sniveling Intern out for a beer.
Luckily, he was saved from such acts of desperation by a knock at the door and his sister’s familiar face.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “You got a minute?”
Seth swallowed and nodded, gesturing awkwardly for her to come in, feeling uncomfortably emotional that she’d come to see him. It seemed a long-ass time since she’d sought him out.
Maybe not even since that day when she’d first told him she was getting married.
Seth was on his feet, moving toward her and scooping her into a hug before his confused brain could even register his intentions. Seth was not a hugger, but as he pulled his sister close, tucking her head against his chest, whether she liked it or not, he realized just how desperately he needed her.
He’d always assumed it was the other way around. That she needed him. That Maya needed Seth to guide her and guard her and, hell, double-check her shit taste in men. And perhaps there was still a little bit of that at work. The woman had apparently lost her credit card to a gambling-addicted imposter and still didn’t know he was racking up charges. There were things he would and could do to increase Maya’s independence and awareness of the world around her.