To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(55)

“Yup. Michigan State.”

“Your family’s still there?”

Heather nodded. “My mom.”

Brooke waited for Heather to say more. The other woman wasn’t chatty. Not like Jessie. But neither was she usually so one-word answers. Maybe Alexis was rubbing off on her.

The silence stretched on as the two of them silently resumed the process of placing gold boxes next to gorgeous little squares of ivory card stock embellished with a plain, typewriter-style font that perfectly offset the fussiness of the paper.

They finally reached the end of the room, and both turned to survey the finished setup. Even without the music that would eventually fill the space, and before the hundreds of candles had been lit, it was spectacular.

“You did good,” Brooke said.

Heather gave a small nod, seeming to finally be satisfied with her work. “Thanks for your help.”

“Thanks for letting me tag along.”

Brooke’s client roster was rapidly filling up, but she was still new enough to the New York wedding scene that she didn’t yet have any weddings of her own apart from Maya Tyler’s. As a result, a schedule that had once been nonstop from Friday morning through Sunday evening was a bit sparse.

Giving her far too much time to think.

About him.

“I think you handled it sort of badly,” Heather said, out of nowhere.

Brooke glanced at her. “What?”

Heather gave her a half smile. “You asked me if I thought you handled the Seth thing badly. I was distracted and didn’t respond, but I’m responding now, and it sounds like maybe both of you said things you didn’t entirely mean.”

Brooke sighed as she followed Heather toward the exit. “That’s an understatement.”

Heather glanced at her watch. “The ceremony won’t start for another four hours. Want to grab a late lunch? I could use the opportunity to think about something other than all the things that could go wrong tonight.”

“Absolutely,” Brooke replied.

“Why does melty cheese always taste so good?” Brooke moaned around a bite of perfect sandwich. She and Heather were seated at a bustling little café right by the winery, nomming on delicious paninis stuffed with smoked turkey, Swiss cheese, and arugula.

“Is that how Seth Tyler got into your pants?” Heather asked with an eyebrow wiggle as she twisted the cap off her sparkling water. “By offering up grilled cheese?”

Brooke tapped a fist against her chest to help the bite of sandwich she’d started choking on go down a bit easier. “Going there, are we?”

“I may have been distracted earlier, but I don’t think I missed the fact that you mentioned spending the night. Explain.”

Brooke sighed and picked up the dill pickle that had come as a garnish on her plate, taking a bite even though she didn’t even really like pickles. Stress eating at its finest. “It was just supposed to be a one-night thing. To scratch the itch and all that, you know?”

“And did he?” Heather asked. “Scratch your itch.”

“Oh yes,” Brooke said.

Heather cracked up. “Oh man. You are about two seconds away from purring.”

Brooke felt her cheeks coloring and looked down at her plate. “It was, um . . . it was good.”

“So why are you limiting it to one night?” Heather asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“One night of casual naked time is one thing, but multiple nights of naked time . . . that gets dangerous, you know?”

“Dangerous?”

“You know, with the whole heart and head getting involved with what was supposed to be the body’s domain.”

Heather bit her lip and leaned forward. “Okay, can I confess something?”

“Always.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Brooke blinked. “How do you mean?”

“I’ve never been in love,” Heather said with a touch of irritability about the whole thing that was downright adorable.

“Never?”

“Nope.” Heather took a moody bite of her sandwich. “I’ve had crushes. Even a couple of boyfriends who lasted a few months. But with every single one, I went into it eyes wide open, knowing that it would never turn into anything more than what it was. Sex. Companionship. Whatever.”

“Trust me, love can be overrated,” Brooke grumbled.

Heather tucked a curl behind her ear, but it popped right back out again. “You’re talking about Clay?”

Brooke nodded. “They want my dad to testify at his trial.”

“Oh God.” Heather’s eyes widened sympathetically. “But they don’t want you to, right?”

“Not yet,” Brooke said. “I’d probably be pretty useless. I was such an idiot, I didn’t see any of the warning signs. I knew nothing about all his illegal crap until that day when they arrested him.”

“I hate that that happened to you, Brooke.”

Brooke forced a smile. “Me too. I’ve been trying so hard to put it behind me, to stop myself from feeling like a victim, but it’s so much harder than I thought it would be.”

“Because a person you cared about—the life you wanted—was ripped away. Getting past that is going to take time.”