To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(72)
Brooke opened her mouth to argue that she was very aware who it had happened to, only . . .
Alexis’s words started to get under her skin.
As in, the other woman might be right.
“Have you talked to Clay since the day of your wedding?” Heather asked quietly.
Brooke shook her head, somewhat surprised and peeved by Heather’s apparent siding with Alexis. She had been all gung ho on Seth and Brooke getting together until this point, but now she seemed to be changing her tune. What was up with that? “No. I thought it would be . . . too painful.”
And Brooke avoided pain at all costs. Because really, it was just the smart thing to do, right? Why dwell on something that hurt when you could shift your attention toward something that made you feel good?
But was she blurring the line? Was she confusing positive thinking with avoidance?
She frowned and took a sip of champagne.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Jessie scolded the other two women. “You stole her happy!”
“I’m still happy,” Brooke said, but it sounded false even to her own ears.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Alexis said, apparently having a rare moment of self-doubt. “I just see you putting on this happy face every single day, and I admire it, but I worry that you’re going to shatter one time.”
Brooke swallowed. “I’m okay. I’m really okay.”
“Of course you are,” Heather said, putting an arm around her. “You have us now.”
Brooke forced a smile, except . . . now she was aware that it was forced.
“Do you think I should talk to him?” she asked. “To Clay?”
“Only if you want to,” Alexis said. “Only if it feels right.”
Brooke sat forward, rubbing her temples against a sudden headache. She didn’t know if it felt right. And yet, now that this was all out there, she was realizing just how forcefully she’d been putting these thoughts at bay. It wasn’t that she didn’t think about what happened . . .
It was that she didn’t let herself.
“Maybe you could start by talking to your parents,” Jessie said in a bright voice. “Baby steps, you know. Find out what’s going on with all that so you can get closure without actually having to talk to the scumbag.”
At the mention of her parents, Brooke’s head shot up. “What day is it? Oh my God. I totally forgot!”
“Forgot what?”
Brooke stood, going to the reception desk where she’d dropped her bag to get her phone. “The trial. It was supposed to start today.”
“Wow, really?” Alexis said. “I hadn’t heard anything about it.”
“You’ve been following Clay’s case?” Brooke asked.
“Just monitoring the situation,” Alexis said in a mild voice. “But there hasn’t been much.”
“They wanted to keep it a closed courtroom,” Brooke said, pulling her phone out. Her stomach dropped as she realized it had been on silent all day, evidenced by the multiple missed calls and text messages she was seeing now pop up on the screen. “To keep the media out, or whatever.”
“Your dad decided to testify?” Jessie asked quietly.
Brooke nodded. “I told him to.”
And she told herself that it didn’t bother her.
But the truth was, she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about it. On the other hand, her parents not testifying because of her . . . no good. Not when Clay had taken and lost their retirement fund. It still made her sick to even think about it.
And yet, there was this part of her that still thought of Clay as the man she loved. The man she was going to marry.
She swallowed against the strange lump in her throat. What was this?
Messy emotions, that was what. This was why she avoided letting her thoughts go in this direction. This was why she didn’t let herself think about Clay.
This was why . . .
Oh God.
She read and reread her text from her mom. Call me as soon as you get this.
There were four missed calls.
Even as she held her phone, it buzzed again with a message from her dad. Hang in there, sweetie. We know it’s hard. Call us.
What was hard?
What was she supposed to be hanging in there for?
She rapidly began scrolling through her other unread text messages. She had a handful from her LA friends. Friends she’d more or less been avoiding since she’d moved out to New York, because they made her think of Clay.
Hang in there, babe. Karma will get him.
This is bullshit. Thinking of you.
Are you okay? Call me.
Brooke let out a silent scream. What were they all talking about? What was wrong with people that they’d deliver the platitudes before the freaking news itself?
She dropped into Jessie’s chair behind the reception desk, her hand fumbling for the computer mouse and keyboard, knowing it would be faster than typing on her phone.
Brooke brought up Google News and typed in Clay Battaglia.
Dozens of stories popped up, all within the last hour.
She didn’t click into any of them, because she didn’t have to.
The headlines said it all.
AMERICA’S FAVORITE CON MAN DODGES JAIL TIME IN A LAST-MINUTE, UNEXPECTED PLEA BARGAIN.