Chapter 10
Hannah
Brooks is back in his spot on the couch when I return with the contract. Jacqueline looks irritated, but I smile as I perch on the edge of my desk, facing them. I’m not sure if her irritation is directed at me or Brooks. Either way, I don’t care. I’m here to do a job.
“Okay, everything is in order.” I hand the contract to Jacqueline. “You can take it and have someone look it over for you, if you’d like.”
She scoffs. “I’ve been reading contracts since before you were born.”
I keep the smile on my face as she flips through it. A moment later, she signs, handing it to Brooks. There’s a tiny part inside of me that hopes he tells her no. He doesn’t. He signs without reading it. That’s one thing that amazes me with clients who have a lot of money. Often, they sign without reading the fine print. But that’s on them, not me. They should both know that contracts always favor the house, so to speak, and my contract favors me.
Brooks hands the contract back, staring at me until I want to squirm.
I say, “Perfect. Ms. Minty-Smith, feel free to send over that email with the ideas you have for the wedding. Once I get an idea of what you’re looking for, then we can go from there.”
Jacqueline stands. “It’s been a pleasure, Hannah. We look forward to working with you.”
“You as well.” I say to Brooks, “Mr. Henderson, it was nice meeting you.”
A dark look flashes in his gaze for using his last name. Good. He deserves it.
Jacqueline says, “You likely won’t be seeing him until we get closer to the wedding. Brooks is a very busy man.”
My heart falls, but I keep the smile on my face. “Well, until next time, Mr. Henderson.”
I hold out my hand to him. He takes it with the same hand that was between my legs and then in my mouth moments ago.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
A shiver works its way up my spine. He holds my hand a beat too long, so I pull my hand free.
“My assistant will show you out.”
Renee enters the room at that moment, smiling. “Ms. Minty-Smith. Mr. Henderson. Right this way.”
Both follow her from the room. Brooks glances over his shoulder before disappearing from view. When he’s gone, I exhale. Fucking hell. Thank god he will not be around because there’s no way I can see him every day. Not when there’s clearly still chemistry between us.
Gathering the contract and my iPad, I go back to my office, closing the door behind me.
I’m expecting it when Renee enters a moment later.
“What was that all about?”
“Which part?”
“The hallway. And the tension in the room when I showed them out.”
I sigh. “I know the groom, though I don’t think the bride is aware.”
“Know him how?”
“We used to date several years ago.” I shake my head, laughing at the look of horror on her face. “It was a long time ago, so don’t ask what I know you’re going to ask.”
“As your friend and as your assistant, I have to ask. Do you still have feelings for him?”
“Feelings? Yes, but not the kind you’re thinking. He broke my heart, Ren. Changed who I was. Believe me when I say my feelings will not get in the way of planning this wedding.”
“You’ll tell me if it becomes too much?”
I stand, going to her and pulling her in for a hug.
“How did I get so lucky in finding you as an assistant and, more importantly, a friend?”
She hugs me back. “Some people just live in the light. And, for the record, I’m lucky, too.”
When the hug becomes awkward, we both pull away with a laugh.
I ask, “How long are you hanging around?”
“About an hour longer. Want me to send Dave in when he arrives?”
Guilt slices through me, but I shove the feeling aside.
“Yes. I’m just going to wrap up this contract and then we can send them their copy.”
“Got it. I’ll let you get to work.”
I sit behind my desk, looking at the contract like it’s going to bite me if I touch it.
I can do this.
I know I can.
The shock of seeing Brooks in person is over, and I survived.
Nothing else can throw me off my game.
Right?
For the next hour, I work, finishing up all the paperwork needed for Brooks’ wedding. I also reach out to the two venues that Jacqueline requested. Might as well get a start on that, because that’s going to be the hardest part of this entire wedding. Thank god I have a good relationship with both venues. That’ll go a long way with such short notice.
I’m logging off my computer when Dave enters my office, a smile on his face. Dave is the complete opposite of Brooks. His height is the only thing that’s similar between the two. Where Brooks is muscular, Dave is lean. His blond hair is cut short. There’s not a tattoo in sight, either. Today, he’s wearing a grey Tom Ford suit, making him look so handsome. He’s everything I should want.
So why don’t I feel a deep connection with him? Or anyone, for that matter.
“How was your day?” he asks, rounding my desk.
I let him kiss my cheek before answering. “It was fine. Just finished with the last client of the day.”
“Good.” He smiles down at me. “Shall we head to my house? I’ve been thinking about your text messages all day.”
Ugh. How do I tell him I don’t want to do this? That I know anything he’ll do to me won’t compare to the bit of contact I had with Brooks in a fucking bathroom.
There’s a knock on the door and we both turn.
My heart falls as Brooks enters, like he has every right to be there.
Dave’s eyes widen. “Holy crap. You’re Brooks the Body McGruff!”
Brooks’ gaze moves between us, likely noticing our intimate position.
I move, putting distance between me and Dave.
“Mr. Henderson. How may I help you?”
Brooks’ attention is on Dave. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I do. I’ve followed your career since you joined OWF. Your last movie was freaking awesome, man!”
Brooks is silent, and an uncomfortable tension fills the room.
“Did you need something, Mr. Henderson?”
Brooks drags his attention to me.
“Is this your fiancé, Ms. Foster?”
Dave beats me to answering by saying, “Oh, I’m her boyfriend. We’re not engaged yet.”
Yet? What the fuck?
I’m about to correct him when I see the look in Brooks’ eyes. Oh, he doesn’t like what Dave said one bit. So I’m not going to correct Dave and let Brooks assume whatever the fuck he wants.
“Mr. Henderson, I’m about to leave for the day. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Brooks’ jaw tics. Finally, he says, “Nothing that can’t wait. Say, would the two of you like to go out to eat? My fiancée ran off without me, and I don’t think I can bear to eat another meal alone. My treat, of course.”
I’m shaking my head as Dave says, “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Hannah?”
Freaking hell.
Brooks gives me his megawatt smile that’s known around the world. “It’d mean the world, Ms. Foster.”
Dave touches my arm. “Babe, it would be rude to turn him down.”
Smiling up at Dave, I say, “You’re right, of course.” To Brooks, I say. “Lead the way, Mr. Henderson.”
“I must insist that you call me Brooks,” he says with a wink.
I glare, but he smiles.
Dave doesn’t have a clue what’s going on and says, “Brooks. Wow. This is such an honor.”
Brooks waves his hand for Dave to walk first. Dave does, chatting up a storm. That’s one thing I like about him. He doesn’t know a stranger. But today, it’s not a quality that I like. Because I get the feeling Brooks is going to pump him for information.
As we make our way to the lobby, I look for my assistant. Renee is nowhere to be found, which is probably how Brooks manage to sneak to my office. Both men wait for me to lock the doors and set the alarm. Outside, I realize Brooks doesn’t have a vehicle.
He says, “Hope you don’t mind giving me a ride to the restaurant. I’ve been using a private car while I’m in town.”
“We don’t mind at all,” Dave says. He points to his black truck. “That’s me.”
“You didn’t drive?” Brooks asks me.
Dave answers, “She took a private car this morning so I could pick her up tonight.”
Brooks’ jaw tics, but he says in a carefree tone, “Oh, jeez. I hope I didn’t ruin any big plans.”
“Of course not. Hannah and I can see each other any time. It’s not every day we get a chance to eat with Brooks the Body McGruff.”
Brooks meets my gaze, smirking.
Glaring, I open the front passenger door, climbing in. Dave looks chidingly at me from the driver’s seat.
“What?”
“I just assumed you’d let Brooks sit in the front.”
Is this guy for real? One look at him confirms that he’s serious. I start to unbuckle, but Brooks climbs in the truck”s backseat.
He asks, “What sounds good to the two of you?”
Nothing sounds good, but I stay silent.
Dave answers, “I could go for lobster.”
“Lobster?”
“Yeah. Not a fish man?”
I can feel Brooks’ gaze burning into the back of my head, but I don’t look.
Finally, he says, “Shellfish is a common allergy.”
“I’m not allergic. Are you, man?”
Brooks waits a beat, giving me a chance to tell Dave that I’m allergic. But I keep my damn mouth shut. I’ve already told Dave about my allergy. Clearly, he didn’t remember.
Finally Brooks says, “Lobster sounds great.”
“Excellent. I know just the place. Ever hear of Martin’s?”
Brooks answers, “No, I haven’t. Do they serve whisky there?”
“I don’t think so, but their wine selection is amazing.”
I know he’s asking about the whisky because it’s his favorite drink. And I hate that I know that. As much as I hate that he’s the reason I, too, love a good whisky.
Pulling out my phone, I scroll through emails while Brooks and Dave chat with each other. By the time we get to the restaurant, I’m ready to get out of the vehicle. Being around Brooks while Dave is here is too much.
We’re seated right away, which is unheard of. It has to be because Brooks is here, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. When the head Chef comes out, shaking Brooks’ hand, I know I’m right.
Brooks smiles. “Always good to see you, Bassandeh.”
“You, too, Henderson. Are you going to the meeting next month?”
“I am.”
The Chef’s eyes widen. “Shit. I addressed you wrong. Habit, my friend. It won’t happen again.”
Brooks waves his hand. “No worries, friend. But if you have a bottle of Macallan lying around, I won’t say no to it.”
“I’ll do my best.” He turns to me and Dave. “Have a good evening.”
When he’s gone, I ask Brooks, “What was that all about?”
“Just saying hello.”
“No, the part about addressing you wrong. What did he mean?”
“A joke between friends.” He turns his attention to Dave. “So, how did the two of you meet?”
Dave puts his arm around the back of my chair. “We met at one of the events she hosted.”
I smile up at him. “Your brother’s wedding, right?”
I didn’t want to do the wedding because there was a lot of drama on the bride’s end, which I was well informed of because the bride was Renee’s cousin. Finally, I agreed to plan the wedding, and it surprisingly went off without a hitch. At the reception, Renee introduced me to the groom’s brother, who ended up being Dave. The romantic inside of me loved the idea of our meet cute. The realist knows that it doesn’t change anything because Dave and I aren’t ever going to be anything more than a casual fling.
“Yeah, it was Adam’s wedding.” He says to Brooks, “I don’t know how Hannah did it, but she got both of them down the aisle and they’re happily married.”
“So, why wedding planning? Why not do something like nursing or hospital administration?”
It takes everything in my power not to glare at Brooks.
I answer, “I love helping people have their dream wedding day.”
Brooks hums but doesn’t press the issue. Dave, on the other hand, turns to me.
“You have to admit the other two careers would have a longer longevity than wedding planning.”
Hurt spears me, but I say, “Well, it’s a good thing I pay my own bills then, and don’t need a man’s permission to do anything.”
“I was just pointing out the obvious.”
My smile is sweet as I ask, “The obvious? Tell me, Dave, how much do you make in a year at your job?”
Normally, I don’t like to throw around my finances, but he deserves it. Because I can guarantee I make more than him.
Dave’s cheeks turn red. “I don’t think we should discuss this in front of our guest.”
Brooks doesn’t miss a beat and says, “No, go ahead. I’m curious. I’ll even tell you my income if it’ll make you feel better.”
A server arrives with a glass of wine for Dave and a bottle of Macallan for Brooks. I notice there are two tumblers.
Brooks says to me, “I told Bassandeh to hold off on your wine until you try the whisky. It’s the best.”
He had to have sent a text message or something because I know he didn’t say it to the head Chef.
Dave looks between the two of us before saying, “Hannah doesn’t like whisky.”
Wrong. I love whisky. I hate that it reminds me of Brooks.
Brooks pours us each two fingers and then lifts his glass, tipping it toward me. “Cheers.”
I take my glass, taking a small sip. Holy hell. This is so good. Brooks smiles as if he knows what I’m thinking.
He turns his attention back to Dave. “So, Davey-boy. Ready to tell your finances or do I need to get more alcohol in you first?”
Dave laughs. “You go first.”
“I make roughly nineteen million dollars a year,” Brooks says, looking Dave right in the eyes.
“Holy hell. Well, my salary isn’t as high. I make about two hundred and twenty thousand a year.” He turns to me. “Your turn, babe, but don’t feel bad if it’s not close to mine.”
I take another sip of my whisky before I say, “You’re right. It’s not close to yours.”
He smiles, but I’m not done.
“Last year I made seven million dollars. This year, I’m on track to double it.”
“Bull shit,” Dave sputters. “There’s no way.”
“I can open my banking app if you need proof.”
Brooks says, “Well, now I want to see.”
I meet his gaze and realize he’s teasing. A warm feeling flutters through my belly, but I shove it aside.
I ask Dave, “Well?”
“I just don’t see how it’s possible.”
“It’s possible because the career that you so foolishly said I should give up makes me that much money.” I snort. “I’m one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the country. I’ve worked with A-list celebrities, royalty, politicians, and people with more money than they have good sense.”
Dave holds up his hands. “I get it. Jeez.”
Brooks steps in. “Easy. I didn’t mean to start anything between the two of you.”
Sure he didn’t. I’m about to make an excuse to go to the bathroom when Dave stands.
“Excuse me.”
He leaves and Brooks smiles at me across the table, leaning back in his seat.
“Guessing the two of you haven’t gotten around to talking about finances yet.” He takes a sip of his whisky. “And the fucker doesn’t know you’re allergic to shellfish, either.”
I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “None of that matters.”
“Oh? I’m all ears, Angel. Tell me what matters.”
“He’s not married, Brooks. That’s what matters.”
He has the decency to look ashamed. Hot tears fill my eyes and I blink them away before they fall. Dave comes back at that moment, taking his seat next to me. God. This is miserable. Why did I agree to come? I could be at home, in bed. Because god knows I’m not going home with Dave. Not after tonight. This is my sign from the universe to end things with him.
I’m listening universe. Sign taken.
A server comes to take our order, breaking the tension.
Dave orders first. “I’ll take the South African lobster.”
Brooks is next. “The ribeye, please.”
I smile at the server. “Can I have the wedge salad, please?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
Dave snorts when the server leaves. “Who goes to Martin’s and orders a salad?”
Someone who is afraid to eat anything here because of the amount of shellfish served at the establishment, that’s who.
Dave isn’t finished and adds, “Or is this some kind of diet thing?”
Brooks meets my gaze, and I know he’s furious at Dave’s comment. Hell, I’m pretty pissed, too.
I say to Dave, “I just wanted salad. Drop it.”
He holds up his hands. “Alright. No need to get pissy with me.”
For the love of god. I’m two seconds away from getting up and leaving.
Dave doesn’t notice and asks Brooks, “So, are you still wrestling with OWF?”
Brooks answers, and the two make idle conversation until our food is served. As soon as Dave’s food is set down, my skin begins to itch. He doesn’t seem to notice and continues to talk to Brooks as he takes his first bite.
Reaching for my purse, I look for a Benadryl. My bigger bag has my epi pen in it, but I brought my smaller bag since I planned on going home with Dave. Now I’m cursing myself. Sometimes I can take the antihistamine and still be around shellfish. I wish I would have thought of it sooner, because it might not kick in until this meal is over.
But I don’t find any Benadryl in my bag.
Panic courses through me.
My skin is so itchy that it’s taking everything in my power not to scratch. I don’t dare do it, though, because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.
My hand shakes as I reach for my water.
I just hope to god that I don’t break out in hives. The water is cool as it goes down my throat, but it’s not enough. Not when I’m sending myself into a panic attack.
Oh my god. What if my throat is already closing? Will anyone even notice? Another sip of water does nothing to relieve my stress.
Is my throat closing or am I overreacting?
My hand goes to my chest. I press, trying to calm myself, but it doesn’t work. The next breath I take is jagged. Painful, even. Black spots form in my vision. Dear god. Am I about to pass out?
“Hannah. Take this.”
Looking up, I see Brooks holding a mini packet of Benadryl. His wallet is open, as if he pulled it from there. My breath hitches in my throat, but this time it has nothing to do with the shellfish around me.
Brooks holds my gaze, calming me.
I reach out, taking the Benadryl from him.
Dave snorts. “That’s an odd thing to carry around.”
I open the packet and swallow the pills as fast as I can.
“Thanks,” I rasp to Brooks.
Brooks nods and then turns his attention to Dave. “I carry it because someone I care about has a shellfish allergy and I always want to be prepared.”
I stand, unable to sit any longer.
“Excuse me.”
The tears are falling before I make it to the bathroom. Locking the door, I lean against it.
He said care.
Not cared.
Present tense.
Not past.
I can’t go back out there. I can’t.
Reaching for my phone, I order an Uber and then send Dave a text, telling him I’m ill and that he’ll have to take Brooks back to his hotel. Part of me is afraid that I’m going to see Brooks as I leave. Thankfully, I don’t.
Inside the car, I close my eyes. Today has been too much. Seeing Brooks. The whole bathroom thing with him. The restaurant. But I can do this. I’ve been through worse and survived. Even when I wanted to die.