Chapter 6
brOOKE
When we danced, his fingers had left a trail of heat in their wake. He hadn’t touched me in years. It shook me how much he still affected me. Would anyone else’s simple touch light my skin on fire like that? Had I taken all those stolen touches for granted?
As we drove to the hotel, I glanced over at Brock on the seat beside me. He was solid. Generous. A successful doctor. He might not make me laugh or light a fire under my skin, but this was better. Safer. I knew exactly what I got when it came to Brock.
I’d almost told him—Cade. Poured my heart out while we danced, unburdened all my secrets. Shared my diagnosis, how lonely I’d felt struggling through it. How much it limited my life. It would’ve been so easy to divulge all that to Cade. But what was the point?
He’d mentioned California when everyone was chatting at our table earlier. So that’s where he’d gone. He’d felt the need to flee that far. Across the country, putting thousands of miles between us.
Had I made a mistake back then? Had I been unable to see what was right in front of me?
I realized Brock was studying me from the driver’s seat. He put his hand on my thigh as we drove. “You have a good time?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
“Hopefully not too tired . . .” He raised his brows. “This hotel room has a jacuzzi.”
The next morning, we headed back to Boston. Brock had a shift, but I had the day off. He dropped me off at the duplex midmorning. I was excited to spend the day in my sweats giving Whit all the details of the reunion. Her shift didn’t start til afternoon, so we had plenty of time to catch up.
I put my key in the lock and walked in, and the whole place smelled like a heavenly mix of butter, oats, and chocolate. Whit had made her signature oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. How had she known I’d need some comfort food? Sometimes I swore my roommate was some mind-reader-witch-baker.
As Whit finished baking, I cooed over Maple, stroking her soft fur and telling her how much I’d missed her. Her tail thumped happily. She sniffed at my bag as if trying to figure out where I’d been for the night.
Whit and I settled on the couch with a plate of warm cookies on the table in front of us.
“So . . .” Whit started, waving her hand towards me encouragingly.
“So.” I made a face between a smile and a grimace. “It was—well, parts of it were great.”
“Top three highlights?”
I thought for a minute. “Catching up with Nicole, dancing, Jacuzzi.” I ticked them off on my fingers.
“Ooh, must hear more. Nicole was the girl who was in typing class with you, right?”
Leave it to Whit to pull an off-the-wall detail out of our many conversations. I’d forgotten I had told her stories of Nic and me in computer class, learning how to type on now-vintage neon Mac desktops while ignoring our batty old teacher spouting off her latest conspiracy theories.
“Among other things, yeah. Small, fiery, full of life. She’s basically exactly the same. And get this—she’s with Bryan.”
“Bryan from the old neighborhood?” Whit cocked her head as if trying to conjure a mental image.
“Yup.” I smiled. Whit had seen plenty of pictures from our crew of cul-de-sac kids.
“He was always the shy one. His story broke my heart a bit. Even from a really young age I’d overheard my parents talking about his mom running off and leaving him.
I can’t imagine doing that to your own kid.
I mean, my dad wasn’t exactly parent of the year, but at least he waited until I was a teenager to fall off the map. ”
I met Whit’s eyes, suddenly worried I’d said too much.
Her own childhood abandonment wasn’t her favorite subject, and I hoped I hadn’t prodded a sore spot for her.
I knew she’d loved her adoptive parents, and they’d been great to her, but she never mentioned much about her life before they entered it.
It was this private line we never crossed.
Whit nodded a moment, chewing thoughtfully.
“Anyway,” I continued, shifting the subject, “Bryan’s some kind of tech-startup genius. He moved back to Birch Hollow and they reconnected. He and Nic have this effortless connection. It’s really nice.” I smiled, almost wistfully.
“Love that. Now—Jacuzzi?” she raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
“Oh god, yes. Can we get one, pretty please? Surely the landlord would go for it, right?” I chuckled and we both shook our heads.
Not in this lifetime. “Better than Epsom salt baths, that’s for sure.
Really dried out my skin, though. Had to slather my legs in lotion afterwards to keep the eczema at bay.
” Whit was aware of my year-long journey to find the perfectly hydrating, not-too-greasy body lotion.
Under our sink was a graveyard of bottles that didn’t make the cut.
Now I carried the winning lotion with me everywhere—I even had a small travel-sized bottle in my purse at all times.
“And things with Brock?” Whit prodded.
“He was the perfect gentleman. Drove us all the way there, chatted with and charmed all my classmates, sprung for a gorgeous hotel.” I paused for a minute. I knew Whit wanted a bit more than that. “The sex was good.” I popped another bite of cookie in my mouth.
Whit continued nodding, still looking thoughtful. I appreciated how engaged of a listener she was, but sometimes I wished I could read her exact thoughts.
“Dinner, sex, dancing, and a jacuzzi. What more could a girl want, amiright?” she finally asked, carefully reading my eyes, gauging for a reaction.
“And of course he’s a good dancer.” I tilted my head toward her and shared a knowing smile.
“Naturally. He probably had ballroom dance lessons growing up.” Whit rolled her eyes and snickered. She always teased me a bit for finding a guy who came from money.
“He actually cut in while Cade and I were dancing—”
Suddenly, Whit’s eyes were like saucers, her hand on my arm.
“You danced with Cade? The Cade? Girl, you really know how to bury a lede.” Suddenly she sat up straighter, like she needed to be more alert for this.
“My God, I didn’t even know he’d be there.
Was that super awkward? How’d you end up dancing with him?
” She paused when I didn’t reply. “I thought you said he hated you! Last I’d heard he’d made some sweeping declaration of love the night of graduation, turning ten years of friendship on its head, then disappeared into the night—”
“I assumed he did hate me.” I shrugged. “We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms. We went from talking every single day for ten years to radio silence. I guess he’d already caught up with Bryan or something, because Bryan had saved him a seat at our table.”
Whit’s eyes still bugged out, and it was clear she wanted to hear more.
I took a breath. “He did not like Brock. That was clear. We had these little conversation cards, and it was like he was using them to test how well Brock knew me. I mean, it’s not like it was a very fair contest,” I continued.
“Cade has ten years’ knowledge of my life, all my little preferences.
I don’t expect Brock to know every detail like that. We’ve got time to learn those things.”
“Sure,” Whit agreed companionably.
“But after dinner I went to the restroom, and Cade stopped me on the way back and asked me to dance.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I nodded, still feeling a bit shell shocked from the whole turn of events.
“I don’t know, Whit. I . . . felt things.
Things I haven’t felt in a long time. Things I didn’t know I could still feel.
He stirred me up inside. You know? It’s like he can crawl under my skin and see beneath the surface.
I can’t hide from him. Do you think it’s a sign? ”
“A sign of what?”
I met her eyes, suddenly feeling that under-the-microscope nervous feeling. I began to trace the edges of my cuticles, a nervous habit. I dropped my gaze back to my lap and gave voice to something I’d been afraid to say out loud since Brock’s unexpected proposal.
“That Brock and I aren’t a good match.”
My shoulders slumped. I bit my lip and stared at my fingernails. Was I the worst girlfriend—fiancée, I reminded myself—in the world? How could I possibly be asking myself these things after one slow dance?
“I can’t read your heart, babe. Only you really know how good Brock is for you.
And from what you’ve told me about Cade .
. . I mean, he’s known you forever. You guys were best friends for a decade.
I’m sure he knows things about you that I don’t even know.
It’s always going to be hard for anyone to measure up to that. ”
I continued to chew my lip. “I don’t even think he wants me in that way. Not anymore, at least. I’ve definitely changed a bit, physically, since high school.”
“Cade? First of all, that man is obsessed with you. I can tell. Second—so what if he’s not? You need to be happy being you. Someone will pick you, Brooke, whether it’s Brock or some other awesome guy. You're worth picking.”
“Even with—?”
“As you are, with all you bring to the table. Unequivocally, yes.”
Whit had a way of saying things with finality, leaving no room for argument. She’d have made a great lawyer.
Unable to respond, tears welling in my eyes, I leaned toward Whit on the couch, threw my arms around her, and wrapped her in a hug.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing, releasing a well of emotions that had bubbled up within me the last five years.
My parents’ divorce, Cade leaving, moving to Boston, my diagnosis, my physical struggles at work—the floodgates opened, and it all poured out in a sea of salty tears. Whit held me until the sobs subsided.
She pulled back and met my eyes, checking her watch. “I’ve got about four hours until work. No more overthinking. Only decision today—How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, or Sweet Home Alabama?”
I wiped my face and smiled. “Both?”