3. Brooke
Chapter three
Brooke
“Samoas are superior. They are the perfect blend of sweet and savory,” Avery says from where she sits on the floor in her matching cheetah pajama set. She sets her morning coffee on the living room table, and the plastic container crinkles as she pulls a cookie from it.
“But Shortbreads go with everything. And feel much more appropriate for breakfast. It’s basically like having scones.” I wish I had tea to go with these, but I’m uncomfortable digging around Marcus’ house when I haven’t even met him yet.
“No way. Thin Mints are hands down the best,” Maci argues, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You can’t beat a frozen Thin Mint or ones blended into ice cream.” Her eyes light up as she shoves a whole chocolate cookie into her mouth.
“I bet that’s Troy’s favorite,” Lexy contributes, her blonde messy bun flopping as she chuckles. “I mean, that man would eat mint chip ice cream for breakfast every day if I let him.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never had Girl Scout cookies before.” I shake my head in disbelief .
“That’s what happens when you have a loser mom.” She shrugs, unbothered as her hand hovers over the three boxes, deciding which flavor to eat next.
“Oh, hey! I have one of those too,” Avery jokes, her straight brown hair nearly identical to Maci’s.
“Also in that club.” My phone skips across the glass coffee table as it lights up with a call. “Speak of the fucking devil.” I groan.
I’ve been avoiding her long enough. I swear she’ll somehow find out where I am and show up–although she never visited Thailand once in the past three years. “Ugh. I should take this.” The three girls sitting around the table in their pajamas finish their cookies in silence as I pick up my phone. “Hello, Mother.”
“You could sound a little more excited to speak with me.”
I take a deep, calming breath, channeling Thai Brooke energy. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not fully awake yet. How are you?”
“Awake? It’s nearly midnight there.” Her snark implies many judgments she has about what that could possibly mean.
Shit. Oh well. Might as well get it over with. “I’m in Oregon. Visiting a friend.”
“Excuse me?” She scoffs. “You haven’t seen me in three years. Home should have been the priority.”
“It hasn’t been home in a long time,” I mutter, more to myself.
“What did you say?”
“You could have visited me.”
“With what money, Brooke? You think I absorbed richness from all the people I work for at the club? ”
“I would have paid for your ticket if you wanted to make the trip.” I sigh, pushing back the anger.
“This is why you should have married Beau. Money wouldn’t have been an issue. Lack of it is the source of all arguments, Brooke–arguments that could be prevented if you had stuck with the plan.”
“Beau is a dick.”
“Watch your language, young lady. Beau is a nice man. A successful, wealthy, nice man. He would have taken care of you–of us.”
My chances of winning this argument are next to nothing. Shy of moving back to Thailand again, the only solution I have is an attempt at a topic change. “How’s work been?” It’s the only thing she ever does, so it’s really my only option.
“Don’t change the subject. Beau just got out of a relationship.” My body instantly itches like I’m wearing a wool sweater at the idea of getting back together with my ex. “Now is the perfect time to come home. It’s fate. There’s an event next weekend at the club. I’ll get you an invite. He would love to see you.”
I highly doubt that.
“I won’t be there next weekend.” I glance at Maci. I was only supposed to stay a week. I haven’t gotten my ticket to Connecticut yet, but I intended to leave on Thursday. She doesn’t seem bothered by my abrupt change in plans.
“Yes. You will. I told all the ladies at the club about your homecoming. Do not make me look like a liar. Beau’s mother will be so disappointed in you.”
“I don’t care about Martha. She’s as awful as her son,” I spit.
“Take that back.” The loud shriek of her voice pierces my inner ear. I yank my phone away from my face. “You will not speak with that tone or words of disrespect for the people who have done so much for you.”
I want her to clarify what they’ve done for me, but my and my mother’s definitions of positive and negative actions are not in alignment. It’ll be a waste of breath for both of us. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll let you know when I book my flight.”
Without giving her the chance to respond, I hang up. My phone buzzes in my hand immediately. I stare down at the black screen, Mom lighting up in white.
“What did she say?” Maci’s soft voice trickles into my awareness. I had forgotten where I was for a moment.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have to stay here. I can find somewhere else to go. I just can’t go home. I thought I was ready, but–” a sob cracks my voice. Maci wraps her arm around my shoulder, pulling me to her. “Money is more important than happiness to her,” I mumble into her T-shirt. “I hate it.”
“I know,” she whispers. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
“If Marcus says no for some reason, you can stay in our guest room,” Lexy adds.
“Or mine. I have a baby who wakes up at 5 a.m. like his life depends on it, but you’re more than welcome to crash with us.”
All the offers only make me cry harder. I met two of these three girls less than twelve hours ago, and they already care about me more than my own mother.
“It’ll be okay. Shhh,” Maci hums against my hair.
A click comes from down the hallway, deep laughter filling the air. I sit, clearing the tears from my eyes to see two men enter the living room.
They halt in their tracks, taking in the scene, then awkwardly glancing at each other. I look back at Maci who seems to be having a silent conversation with Dean as she sits cross-legged on the living room floor next to me. I run the back of my thumbs under each eye again as I stand. “Hi. Sorry. Don’t mind me. My mom is a mosquito. She sucks the life right out of me.” I fake a smile, walking around the couch to introduce myself.
“Brooke. You must be Dean.” I reach my hand out to the blond in front of me. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Nice work, Maci. He leans in for a hug instead.
“Nice to finally meet you, Brooke,” he says before pulling back. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.” I knew she’d choose Dean before I ever met him. And the energy he gives off only helps confirm she made the right choice for her.
“She’d do the same for me.” I glance back at my friend appreciatively before turning to Marcus.
“Marcus, I’m assuming?”
“That’s me.” He accepts my handshake, and I scan his body. His dark sweats cinch mid-calf. He definitely doesn’t skip leg day. His white shirt perfectly highlights every muscle in his upper body. Looks like he takes advantage of the home gym Maci showed me on the tour yesterday. My gaze jumps from his stormy blue eyes to his dark hair, tied neatly into a messy bun at the back of his head. It should be a sin for any man to look that good, especially after spending two days in the woods.
“Thanks for letting me stay here. And for sharing your bed.” Oh shit. Did that come out wrong? Or is it only wrong in my head because of where my mind just went?
“No problem. A friend of Maci’s is a friend of mine.” Thank God he can’t sense my pulse quicken under my skin and his warm gaze. I think I’m sweating. Jesus, what has gotten into me? You’d think I’d been living in a convent with the way my body heats at the mere thought of sex.
“Well, we are going to unpack and shower,” Dean says. “So, continue your,” he glances around me to look at the table, “very important meal to start the day.” He chuckles.
As quickly as they came, they leave. My gaze lingers on Marcus, and a weird pit in my stomach forms when he doesn’t spare a glance back.
“Well, on that note, I think I need a cold shower and some yoga so the next time those two see me, they believe I’m not a complete psycho.”
The other three stand, all making a similar statement about how I’m not a psycho, and pick up the now empty cookie boxes.
“I need to get home to Canaan anyway,” Avery says.
“And I need to wake my fiancé up with sex. I have no idea how long I can milk this engagement high, but I plan to make the most of it.” Lexy grins. She got engaged a few weeks ago, and it’s evident that my experience was not the same as hers.
We finish our goodbyes, and Maci wanders away to find her own fiancé. Heading down the hallway, I wonder if Marcus will be in his room, but I enter anyway. Scanning the space, I don’t see him, so I close the door behind me. Digging through my suitcase, I pull out my elephant pants. I shed my pajamas and slide on the baggy, light-weight purple fabric covered in elephants and cinched at my ankles, finding a sports bra and an oversized white T-shirt in my bag to pair with them.
Making my way to Marcus’ home gym, I sit cross-legged on the empty mat space in the corner. I open my meditation app, tapping to play the self-guided music softly. My hands rest on my knees as I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Out. One. Two. Three. Four.
At least ten minutes have passed because at some point I’m conscious of the fact that my music has stopped, but I continue with my breathing. With clearing my mind. With searching for the peace that will help me accept my mom might never love me the way I wish she would–the way that my dad does.
I miss Thailand. All of that seemed more accessible there.
The door creaks, and my eyes fly open, my head spinning toward the sound.
“Hey.” I scramble to my feet. “I’m sorry, do you need to workout? I can leave.”
Marcus chuckles. “You’re good. I thought maybe you could use some hot tea.”
I glance at the mug full of steaming liquid in his hand, torn. “Oh, umm. That’s sweet. Thank you . . .”
“But?” he asks, still standing in the doorway.
“But, umm, I really can’t stand tea from a bag anymore.”
A smirk flashes across his face, but then he hides it. Taking a few steps toward me, he holds out the mug.
Feeling like an ass, I take it from him, letting it warm my hands and move to sit on the weight bench next to me. “Thank you,” I whisper, taking a small sip. What the . . . Without pulling back all the way, I stare into the amber liquid. I look at Marcus. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his joggers as he observes me.
“Is it alright? I made it how I was taught.”
“Taugh–This is Thai Tea. Like real Thai Tea.”
“Yes.” He leans against his leg press machine.
I take another sip, my eyelids fluttering closed as I take a deep inhale and let the perfectly spiced tea soothe my soul. It’s exactly what I need right now. I return my gaze to his. “Have you been to Thailand?”
“Yes.” He scans the bottom half of my body and quirks a brow. “Have you?”
Glancing down, I chuckle. “My pants?”
There’s an amused glimmer in his eyes, but he doesn’t respond.
“I know, I know. Elephant pants are only a tourist thing. But have you tried them? They are like sitting inside a cloud.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Don’t tell the natives, okay?” I fight back a smile. “I won’t be welcome back.”
“Your secrets are safe with me. If you need anything else during your stay, let me know.” His words, his stance–they’re guarded and professional. I wonder what reveals the other side of him. I wonder what Thai Marcus is like.
“Thank you,” I say as he turns to leave, wondering if he knows he handed me so much more than tea.