Trying to get words out through the crying is impossible so I just shake my head. Saxon pulls me even tighter against him and lays his cheek tightly against the top of my head.
We sit in this position long enough that eventually Saxon leans back into the couch and takes me with him. My head is resting on his chest while he continues to hold me with what feels like his lips on top of my head.
My crying starts to slow as his hold loosens. I try to explain through the last of the tears. “I’m sorry, it was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“What do you mean, Brooke?” he asks, pulling back to look at me.
“Thinking it could somehow be Nate coming home. How ridiculous,” I sob.
“Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry, Brooke. I know you haven’t been answering the phone or door so I thought I’d just come in. I didn’t even think.”
“Stop, Sax, it’s not your fault. Why would you think I’d assume it was my dead husband?” The last part comes out as another sob.
“Oh, baby girl.” Saxon tightens his hold again as tears wet my head. His voice is rough, and I know he’s trying to keep control of his emotions. “I’m so sorry, Brooke. If I knew things were this bad I would’ve come sooner.”
“Things aren’t that bad. For some reason, seeing you brings the pain right to the surface. I haven’t broken down like this in front of anybody else, yet I’ve done it twice with you now.”
His face falls, and I’m not sure if its hurt or guilt I see flit across it.
“No, Sax. I didn’t mean it like that. I think you being the closest person to Nate other than me, I know you feel his loss as much as I do, and you know what I’m going through. I feel like I can let you see my pain and be totally open with you, and know you will understand. I feel like you’re the only one who can truly get what I’m going through and that comforts me, makes me feel safe with you. Connected to you.” I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe we are even discussing it. He’s gotten more out of me in thirty minutes than anyone has in three months.
“That’s exactly why I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve known you needed me. I was a coward and told myself you had your parents and Rachel and I was helping by looking after Argo.”
The guilt is seeping out of him, sitting over us like a dark thundercloud. “Saxon, I appreciate you coming, but what can you really do? Can you bring Nate back? Unless you can, there’s not a lot you can achieve. There’s not a lot anyone else hasn’t already tried.”
He sighs. “Come on, baby girl. Go have a shower, get changed, and let’s go have a coffee. You need to get out of this house for a while.”
“No, Sax, really I’m fine. I’m fine here.”
“Brooke.” His voice is stern. “You are so far from fine. I can’t leave you like this, so either you go have a shower or I’m going to carry you up there and shower you myself,” he says with a poker-faced expression.
“Saxon,” I say, returning the warning tone. “I’m fine, I don’t want to shower, and I don’t want to go and ‘have a coffee’.”
“Come on, Brooke, you’ll feel better after a shower, and we can talk some,” he says softly, trying to placate me.
“Talking isn’t going to bring him back. Talking isn’t going to help me.”
“Well, it’ll help me. Will you come and talk for me?” he requests softly.
How can I tell him no? I just admitted he is a source of comfort by him going through what I was, and now he is asking me to comfort him. Fuckity fuck, fuck!
I look over at Saxon, and his eyes are begging and pleading. God, no wonder women drop their panties for him at a snap of his fingers. And here I thought I was immune.
Releasing a deep breath, I slowly stand from the couch and walk towards the bathroom. Why do I feel like I have been played?
I watch her stand to go take a shower and my shoulders relax.
Shit. I thought it was going to take a lot more than that to get her out of this house. Didn’t think my usual charm and persuasion would work on Brooke. Trust me, I’ve tried it plenty over the years.
Nate being the family I never had, we did everything together. He was my brother; the only person on this earth who knew all my secrets, all my troubles, my strengths and my weaknesses. The only person who knew me better than I knew myself. So, of course when Nate met Brooke, she did everything with us, too.
Watching her go in the opposite direction of her en-suite I call out to her, “Ummm not the way to the shower, Brooke.”
Her step falters but she doesn’t turn or even glance my way when she says, “I’m using this bathroom at the moment.”
I don’t answer her, and she continues to the bathroom without waiting for a response. That was weird.
Once I hear the bathroom door close and the lock latch, I wait for the shower water to start before I stand up off the couch and head straight for her en-suite.
I open the en-suite door, which takes a little extra strength and makes crunching noises as I put my body weight against it to gain some leverage.
Holy Shit! What. The. Fuck?
Things are much worse than I’d first thought. What the fuck was I thinking? Not visiting, not calling, not texting or even sending a fucking email in three months. My best friend’s wife. No, my brother’s wife, because that’s what he was to me. A fucking brother, and I completely bailed on the most important person in his life. I bailed because I’m a weak prick and can’t handle my own emotions, let alone anyone else’s.
That’s a lie. I can’t handle Brooke’s emotions. I can’t handle seeing her like that and not being able to fix it.
Glancing around the en-suite, I take in the destruction. I wonder how long it has been like this and what exactly set it off. As I’m thinking this over, I’m taking a subconscious inventory. Smashed perfume and cologne bottles, shattered mirror and shower screen lie everywhere, the bin tipped over and tissues and rubbish scattered all around.
What the fuck? Was that blood splattered all over the floor? Is she hurt? Did she need medical attention? I’m losing my fucking mind. I want to break down that bathroom door and get some fucking answers from her, make sure she really is okay.
As I turn to leave, not being able to look at the destruction of her pain anymore, I notice a couple of white plastic sticks laying in between shards of glass. Bending down to get a better look, I know straight away what I’m looking at. A negative pregnancy test. Brooke thought she was pregnant? Is that what caused this? Has she been sleeping with someone?
Fuck no, it’s Brooke. Her world began and ended with Nate. It’s then I remember the last conversation Nate and I had before his accident, before he didn’t show up at work that morning.
“Why are you calling me at ten am, Nathaniel, instead of sitting in the office down the hall?”
Nate lets out a loud laugh. “I was just calling to let you know I was on my way.”
“What’s your excuse today?” I ask. Nate has a much more relaxed work ethic than I do. Work is never a priority, and whatever he didn’t do today he could do tomorrow. I don’t know how he is so successful working like this, but he is. People love and trust him. We make the perfect working team: Nate the client-relations man, and me the numbers man.
I work twelve-plus hours most days, and spend most of my weekends in my home office. I don’t have to do this, and Nate never expects it; work is my first priority and my sanctuary. The only other thing I make time for in my life is women.
Unlike me, Nate’s first priority and sanctuary is Brooke. If he isn’t in the office, he is with her. He tries to be home for dinner most nights and refuses to work weekends unless we have to.
Of course this was after we had built the business into what it is today. In the beginning we both worked around the clock, barely leaving the office to sleep. The difference was Nate adjusted accordingly, and I stayed the same.
“Well, Brooke and I made a pretty big decision this morning,” he says with excitement in his voice. He sou
nds almost giddy.
“Yeah?” I ask sceptically. What big idea had he come up with now?
“We’re going to start trying to have a baby.” Nate’s voice peaks with his exhilaration.
I laugh at my friend. I’m happy for him. “Congratulations, man, but that doesn’t explain why you are two hours late.”
“We were trying for a baby,” Nate says casually, like it should be obvious.
My eyebrows scrunch together as I think about what he just said. “What, and you had to try right away?”
Nate cracks up laughing. “Fuck yeah, we did. Once she said yes I couldn’t wait to start.”
I let out a small laugh. “All right, all right, enough. I don’t want to fucking hear it. It’s bad enough I still can’t erase from my mind the time I walked in on you guys in our dorm bathroom.”
Nate laughs before he sobers. “Seriously though, Sax, I’m so fucking happy. I honestly wasn’t sure if she was going to freak out or not when I brought it up. She was so excited she practically jumped into my arms. We’re going to have a baby. I’m going to be a dad, man.”
I shake my head at my friend, even though he can’t see it. “Dude, I’m going to have to call Brooke and ask her for your balls back. At least if she could give them to you for work. You know, nine to five.”
Nate chuckles. “Fuck off, man.”
“So I’ll see you before lunch?” I ask laughing.
“I don’t know. With your depressing attitude I’m thinking of turning around and going back home to Brooke.”
“Just don’t forget to grab your balls.”
“See ya soon, dickhead,” Nate grumbles.
“Hey, Nate?”
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations, man. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, bud.”
Brooke thought she was pregnant. Well fuck.
Pulling the door shut behind me, I decide not to go storming in the main bathroom, demanding answers. She’d obviously been struggling even more than I’d thought. I was suddenly pissed at Jeanie for not explaining how bad the situation had gotten when she’d called me. She made it sound like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Actually, I’m sure she used those exact words when she called and asked me to come and check on Brooke.
I need to keep an eye on Brooke. If I push her too hard, I know she’ll pull away, and I won’t be able to watch her. How am I going to do that anyway? I need to get her into the office as soon as possible where I can be with her every day. Keep an eye on her and keep her busy and distracted.
Making my way back to the couch, I try to settle my anger. I don’t know what or who it was directed at, but there it sat anyway, just under the surface and ready to explode.
Resting my head on the back of the couch, I take a deep breath in and then slowly release it. As I peel my eyes open, I focus on the TV for the first time. I hadn’t even noticed it on before when I sat here holding Brooke for all that time.
I strain to hear and then realise it’s on mute. I don’t need to hear the sound; I was there all those years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. The DVD must repeat over and over as it’s playing the beginning of the ceremony. The camera is focused on Nate and me standing up the front, talking to the minister while waiting for Brooke to arrive. The moment she did was the moment I realised I had to pull back from our friendship. I couldn’t secretly pine over my best friend’s girl. She was about to become his wife.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees with my hands clasped together. You can see how damn happy the bastard was. He knew, he knew how damn lucky he was and he had a triumphant smile on his face all day. Gloating bastard.
I’m so immersed in the video I don’t hear Brooke enter the room, and only notice her when the couch dips beside me. She pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, hugging herself while watching the television. “Was a great day, wasn’t it?”
“The best,” she replies without removing her gaze from the TV.
We sit for a few moments more in a comfortable silence watching the video. Without the sound, it really makes me focus on what I can see happening: Brooke and Nate’s nervous fidgeting; their facial expressions, Nate’s one of love and protection, Brooke’s one of awe and contentment; the way they almost lean into each other, like there was some invisible rope pulling them.
As I take it all in, I find myself wondering if that will ever be me standing up at an altar, making a lifetime commitment to one woman. A woman who thought I hung the stars just for her, a woman who had no doubts she was my everything, and who knew I would do anything for her. A woman who when I looked at her I saw nothing else; a woman who made me feel like I needed her more than I needed my next breath. I know that’s what Nate and Brooke had. I just couldn’t see myself having it.
I have met a lot of women—a lot of women. There has never been one who I even considered seeing on a long-term, serious basis. Even the ones I grew up around were no examples of a fine woman.
My mother, if I can even call her that, was more concerned about her next high-society function than her own child, leaving me to fend for myself most of the time or dealing with her drunken anger.
Even Jeanie, who was an angel compared to my mum and had practically taken me in as her own, was like the girls I normally gravitated towards: the high society types whose only job is to find a man with money and social standing. They were great for a distraction and doubly worth it as they were high class enough, and you could drag them to a business function or two and they knew how to behave.
These women were not lifelong material. While I enjoy a lot of casual sex, that’s not the type of person I am. I may use women, but I’m always honest about my intentions and make no promises of anything more.
That’s not to say some fine women haven’t surrounded me: women like Brooke and Rachel. Women who are confident and independent. They don’t rely on men to build their self-esteem and tell them how pretty they are every five minutes. Women who work hard to get what they want, and get where they want to be.
Women like my personal assistant, Ruth. Sure, she is sixty-three years old, but she is loyal, caring, and fair. She would never give up any part of herself for a man, and never do something just to please him. Ruth is tough as nails and probably the only woman who can tell me what to do and have me listen, but I also know she was a doting wife for thirty-five years.
The thing about these perfect women is that they are way too good for the likes of me. Men like me don’t get women like them. Women like them aren’t having casual sex with strangers just because he throws her a wink and buys her a drink, and that is all I’m good for. Women like them don’t want to settle down with a man who has fucked more women than Hugh Hefner.
I have nothing to offer a good woman. I work a lot, I like my own space, I like to have control over everything, I’m not romantic, I’m a selfish bastard, and I would never put anyone else before myself. I’ve always been on my own and only ever had to worry about myself. This is all I’m used to.
At least I can admit that and know marriage is something that isn’t for me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I hear a sniffle beside me. I glance towards the TV and see Nate and Brooke having their first kiss as a married couple. How many times has she watched this during the past three months? Reaching next to me, I grab the remote and switch off the TV.
I stand from the couch. “Ready to go?”
She nods and slowly gets to her feet to follow me out. Picking her purse up off the side table next to the door, I hand it to her as she passes by me through the front door. I grab my keys from my pocket and lock the front door behind me as I follow Brooke to the passenger door of my car.
While unlocking the car I lean forward to open her door. She hops in and places her purse on her lap, fiddling with the straps. As I shut her door and make my way around to the driver’s side I think she has probably realised how awkward this is. Brooke and I have never spent muc
h time alone. It isn’t like we can talk about Nate, our one thing in common, the one thing keeping us connected.
Sitting in Saxon’s car, I try to think of anything to take my mind off the awkwardness. As I look around it’s exactly what I would expect: sleek, stylish, and sophisticated. The black leather seats shine, and there isn’t a speck of dirt on the floor mats.
“Nice car,” I say, looking to start some kind of conversation.
“Thanks. It’s nice, but nothing too flashy.”
I snort out a laugh. “Nothing too flashy? What is it?”
“An Alpha Romeo 4C.”
“That means nothing to me, but it’s pretty showy and obviously quick.” I laugh as he peels out of my driveway.
“Like I said, it’s a nice car, but it’s just a run-around work car.” His eyes don’t leave the road.
I look at him with disgust. “This is not a run-around work car. A truck or small hatch is a run-around car. This,” I slide my fingers across the dashboard, “Saxon, is not a run-around car.”
He finally looks my way and has a wide grin on his face. I narrow my eyes in confusion. “Maybe, but you haven’t seen my other car.”
“What is it, a Ferrari or something?” I ask sarcastically.
Saxon smiles. “No, it’s a Dodge Charger 440 RT.”
“Huh?”
He cracks up laughing. “It’s an old muscle car, done up to the hilt and in exceptional condition. It could definitely take this on, and they are a rare find. I’ve spent a lot of money and time on her to get her exactly as I want her. Now that car is flashy.”
I laugh at his excitement over an old car. I would never trade my Range Rover in for my old Mazda 323.
“Why don’t you drive it then?”
“I couldn’t be showing up to client business meetings in that. There is a certain image I need to portray, and in this industry, most of the clients we deal with are old money and wouldn’t appreciate my beast.”
Wherever You Will Go Page 4