Exposed - Chapter 27
Tuesday
Matt
Brooklyn said yes to going to prom. But it would have been a no for a real proposal. I paced in front of the fireplace in our house. Yes, our house. The one I’d renovated for us .
I knew Brooklyn was grieving. I understood what that felt like better than anyone. But when I’d lost her I’d leaned on everyone around me. Why wasn’t she leaning on me? Why wasn’t she letting me back in? Did she not understand that I was all in?
I stopped and stared at the fire. It crackled and popped and I took a deep breath. Or maybe she did understand. And she just…didn’t want the same things as I did anymore.
I tried to shake away the thought, but I couldn’t. What if she didn’t want to get married again? What if she didn’t want to have any more kids?
Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze from the fire and stared at the pictures on the mantel.
I’d done my best to avoid looking at them.
But it was impossible when they were right in front of me.
I stared at the familiar picture of Brooklyn and her mother.
The next was of Miller holding a baby Jacob in his arms. It felt like I’d stopped breathing.
I stared at Brooklyn, Miller, and Jacob covered in mud.
Jacob was holding a football in his hands.
They all looked so happy. I stepped in front of the last picture.
Miller was kissing Brooklyn in the snow.
They were in pajamas. Christmas pajamas.
I swallowed hard. That must have been when they made it official. A Christmas wedding.
It felt like a knife was in my chest. Not just because they got married right around the date that Brooklyn and I should have.
It hurt because Brooklyn was staring up at Miller like she used to look at me 16 years ago.
She was in love with Miller. Really in love.
They were happy. And I didn’t know if I could make Brooklyn that happy again.
I wanted to. Desperately. But what if I wasn’t enough?
A floorboard creaked on the stairs. I turned to see Jacob in Brooklyn’s arms, wide awake even though she’d been upstairs reading him a bedtime story for a while.
“He wanted to say goodnight to his dad,” she said, without really looking at me.
I didn’t know what that meant. The lack of eye contact. And the saying goodnight thing.
She carried Jacob outside. She’d left the door ajar. And I couldn’t help but follow her. I paused outside the door and listened to the two of them.
“I don’t see Daddy,” Jacob said.
“We just have to look a little harder, sweet boy.”
“But he’s not here.”
“Of course he is. Even if we can’t see him, it just means he’s behind a cloud.”
“Nooooo.”
“Yes.”
Jacob giggled.
I peered out the crack in the door to see her tickling his side.
“We’ll see him tomorrow, okay?” Brooklyn said.
“I can’t go to bed without saying goodnight to Daddy.”
“I know, me either.” Brooklyn kissed the top of his head. “Let’s wait a few more minutes to see if the clouds part.”
They both just stood there on the patio, looking at the sky, like they’d rather be anywhere in the world but here.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I watched the two of them staring at the sky. I was so consumed by what I wanted. What I needed. But Brooklyn and Jacob didn’t want the same things. They didn’t need me as much as I needed them. They’d always wish I was someone else.
“Wait, look!” Brooklyn said. She was pointing up. “The brightest star, remember?”
“Daddy!”
I felt tears welling in my eyes.
“I miss you,” Jacob said to the star.
Fuck. I took a step back, wiping the tears from my eyes. I took another step back. I’d never loved anyone the way I loved Brooklyn. But she’d loved someone else the way she’d loved me. Maybe she’d loved Miller more. And it didn’t matter that I wanted to adopt Jacob. I wasn’t his dad.
I felt like an intruder standing here in this hall. I wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. I wasn’t supposed to be interfering. I wasn’t even sure they wanted me here.
But I couldn’t make myself leave. Because I loved Brooklyn. I loved her so much that it physically hurt to see her hurting. Wasn’t there a way to show Brooklyn that? Show her that my love was going to be enough to get us through this?
I took another deep breath. Panic had wrapped around my chest. I felt like I was losing her.
And I couldn’t lose her again. Over the past 16 years, whenever I felt shaken like this, I’d usually just go talk to Brooklyn.
The dead her in the graveyard. Or… I stared back at the steps.
I’d paint her. The version of her stuck at 16. But she wasn’t stuck at 16 now.
Brooklyn and Jacob were talking to the stars. I knew how important it was to talk to the dead. But Brooklyn wasn’t frozen in time anymore. And I was done living in the past. I knew exactly how to show Brooklyn she was my present and future.
I wandered up the stairs and into my studio.
I needed a new portrait of Brooklyn. A real one of her.
Not a fantasy from 16 years ago. The real thing.
I grabbed a fresh canvas and my palette.
I loved Brooklyn in the past. I squirted a blob of paint out.
I loved her in the present. I squirted out another blob of paint and started to blend the colors together.
And I was going to be the one to love her in the future.
I wasn’t fucking going anywhere. It didn’t matter if she was scared to accept my proposal. I brushed the first stroke against the canvas. It didn’t matter if she told me no a thousand times. I’d keep asking.
I would never be Brooklyn’s first husband. I’d never be Jacob’s father.
But I could be Brooklyn’s last husband. And I could help raise Jacob. I could love him like he was my own son. That had to be enough. Because I wasn’t walking away.
“Matt?”
I didn’t turn around. I kept painting. “You owe me something from 16 years ago.”
She walked in front of my easel. “And what is that?”
“When you got me all those painting supplies on Thanksgiving, you agreed to pose for me. I’m cashing in on that.”
Brooklyn smiled. “Okay, where do you want me? Here?” She took a step back and stared at me.
“Not quite.” We both knew that wasn’t what she’d agreed to. I set my brush down and walked over to her. I grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pushed it up.
She laughed.
I kept pushing it up. “Lift your arms.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.”
“But Jacob could wake up…”
I walked back over to the door and locked it. “Take it off, Brooklyn.”
She pressed her lips together.
I reached out and unbuttoned her jeans.
“Matt, I don’t think this is a good idea.” She looked over at one of the other portraits I’d painted of her.
I pushed her jeans down over her hips. “You’re my muse, Brooklyn.”
She still didn’t move. “But I don’t look like that anymore.”
She thought I was still in love with a ghost. She thought this version of her wasn’t good enough.
Was she kidding me? “Every day you were gone, I didn’t love you less.
I loved you more.” I pushed her sweater up again, and this time she lifted her arms. I tossed her sweater to the side and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra.
She put her arms across her chest. She’d been shy about this 16 years ago too. And I wasn’t having it now either.
I grabbed her arms and put them to her sides. “I painted you that way because it was the only version of you I knew. Not because it was the version I preferred.” I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her thong and pulled it down.
She stared at me like she didn’t believe me. But at least she didn’t try to hide herself from me this time.
“Is that why you freaked out when I got down on one knee earlier? Because you don’t believe I love this version of you? The real you?”
She dropped her gaze to her bare feet.
I put my fingers under her chin so she’d look at me again. “Tell me why you were upset.”
“We’re still just getting to know each other again, Matt.”
I shook my head. “I’ve been in love with you for half my life. And I think that deep down, there was a piece of you that still loved me too. So tell me the real reason why you were upset.”
She pressed her lips together as she stared at me. “Honestly?”
“Honesty is all I’m asking for.”
“I was having a hard evening before Penny and Daphne showed up. I…I miss him.”
Honesty was what I wanted. But it still hurt.
“It’s the quiet moments when I’m alone that hurt the most. But I’m so happy when you’re here with me. You’re helping me to keep going, Matt.”
That’s all I’d needed to hear. That she wanted me here. “Good. Now lie down.”
She smiled. “What?”
“Right there. On that sheet. You promised to pose nude for me. And after you see this painting, you’ll know I love you at 32 just as much as I loved you at 16.”
She didn’t move, so I picked her up in my arms.
She laughed as I carried her over to the sheet on the ground. I bent down and put her where I wanted her. And maneuvered her to be posing exactly how I wanted. Leaning back, propped up on her elbows, with her back arched.
I wanted to tell her that I wished we’d stayed home on Thanksgiving all those years ago.
And done this instead like I’d wanted. But I knew she didn’t regret parts of what happened.
I knew she’d been happy. And I was so fucking happy for her.
But it hurt to hear about it. I couldn’t stand it.
It made my chest burn. But I knew I needed to hear it. All of it.
I moved her legs so that her knees were bent. One a little more than the other, giving me a view of every inch of her. I put my fingers in her hair and pulled, tilting her head back. Perfection.
I went back to my easel.
“This pose is going to be very hard to keep,” she said.
I realized I wasn’t even painting. I was just staring at her. Completely exposed to me. I picked up my palette again. This was so much better than a still image.