To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(84)

“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 f*ck.