Chapter 4 #2
A burst of giggles suddenly surrounds us as Dinah, Emory, and Chloe make their way to the bar. Dinah’s beaming from ear to ear, holding Emory’s hand and lightly dancing to the music. “Oh hello, brooooo,” she sings, then smacks a kiss to my cheek. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
I raise an eyebrow at her sister who shrugs and shakes her head. “It’s her first night out since the baby was born. A half a glass of white wine and she’s declared her love for everyone in the room.”
“But you’re special, Owen. I promise.” Dinah wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing gently. “I just love your little face.”
“Thanks, sis.” I pat her arm but wince when I try to remove myself from her grasp. “Glad you’re having a good time. I love you, too.”
Chloe, who’s married to famous actor, Roman Rivers, loops her arm through Dinah’s, pulling her close.
“She was certainly complimentary to Roman earlier,” she says, smiling at her husband who has been sitting quietly in a corner booth all night to avoid attention but subtly waves to his wife from across the room.
“She said our genes were the perfect combination for a superstar baby, and that if we ever had a son, she’d expect to marry Lola off to him. Said they’d make for great TV.”
“Oh!” Dinah shouts. “Do you know what else will be great TV?!”
“Dinah, I think you should probably—” Brooke tries to cut her off, standing and attempting to turn the whole group in an effort to guide her away.
“Brooke is gonna be on Suite Hearts!” Dinah yells over her shoulder, whipping her head around in an effort to swish away the mane of the strawberry blonde hair hanging in her face.
“Did she tell you? She just needs to get married first, which is really a bummer since Kitty Cat Claws is out of the picture, but none of us liked him anyway, right Owen? Not compared to you… Oh!” She shouts again, barely taking a breath between her rambling, but my sister-in-law definitely has my full attention.
“You should marry Brooke, Owen! That would make Gram soooooo happy. You’d have pretty babies, too.
Not as pretty as Lola, since she is perfect, but… ya know… you guys can still try.”
“Okaaaay, crazy lady,” Emory says, steering Dinah away with Chloe’s help while shooting Brooke a sympathetic smile. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight. Time to get you home to that handsome husband and perfect baby, right?”
“He is handsome, isn’t he?” Dinah says, fanning her face before she turns her attention on Roman in the corner and shouts. “Roman Rivers! Let’s sinnnngggg!”
When they’re gone, I turn to Brooke who looks like she wants to crawl into a hole. “You want to tell me all about your upcoming nuptials?”
“Not particularly.”
I grab her hand and give her a tug, bringing her back to her seat. “So when’s the big day? Should I wear a suit or are we doing this thing on the fly?”
“We aren’t doing anything.”
“No, no. Don’t be shy now, Babe. If you get on one knee, I think you’ll be happy to hear my answer.”
“I’m not doing the show, Ruth,” she grumbles. “And I’m certainly not proposing.”
“Come on…” I lean in close, whispering in her ear, “We could feel the loooove tonight…”
“Owen,” Brooke whines and sips her drink. “I signed up months ago, thinking I’d marry Aiden if by some chance I was selected, have some fun, maybe win some money, then get a divorce at the end. No big deal.”
No big deal? How about, very big deal.
Namely, Brooke marrying that clown, having fun in ways I don’t want to even imagine, and the fact that she’d so flippantly divorce him at the end.
My fists clench in my lap.
“But you were selected? And now, are you… disappointed?” I’m almost afraid to hear her answer, gulping down the rest of my drink.
“I wanted to compete. It would have been fun, and I really could use the money. You know I still have debt, and Mama will need the money once things…” She pauses, as if I’m not already positive about where that thought was headed, then settles on a shrug. “I’ll find another way.”
She shouldn’t have to find a way to begin with.
I know Brooke’s mom loves her just as much as mine loves me, but I’ve always had a difficult time not resenting her for the choices she’s made—aside from her decision to follow husband number three to Honey Hill our freshman year of high school, then choosing to stay when that marriage went up in smoke. Those decisions gave me Brooke.
Much like her daughter, Ms. McBride has been wounded time and time again.
But unlike Brooke, she wears her heart on her sleeve and jumps into relationships, always believing she’s found The One.
And thanks in large part to those rose-colored glasses her mother wears, Brooke’s idea of The One is nonexistent.
The reminder makes me almost grateful I didn’t just corner her into the “I’ve loved you since I was fifteen” conversation I was a breath away from diving into.
That’d only make her run in the other direction.
“No, Brooke.” I shake my head, needing to make sure I fully understand where she’s at with this whole Suite Hearts’ thing.
And more specifically, the man she had in mind as her partner.
“That’s not what I mean. Are you disappointed to not marry Aiden?
I didn’t think you were there… with him… but maybe I was wrong.”
“No. I don’t want to marry Aiden. I’m glad we aren’t seeing each other anymore. We didn’t… fit.”
“Okay.” Tapping my knuckles on the counter, I blow out a relieved breath and say a silent prayer of thanks.
They didn’t fit. Because, though she won’t admit it, she fits with me.
In my life. My family. My everything… Brooke fits.
She’s that final puzzle piece I’ve worked on for so long and can’t wait to place so the once blurry picture is complete and totally in focus.
Pain lances up my arm, a reminder that I’m past due for meds and should probably be leaving the party right about now, but I’m suddenly more clearheaded than I’ve been all night. I’ve got a crazy plan and that bottom-of-the-ninth, bases-loaded, strike-out-to-win-it energy zipping through me.
One pitch. One inning. One game. One major swing…
Brooke bites down on her full, red-painted lip, looking me over like she’s afraid of what I’ll say, and rightfully so. I can’t quite believe the words that slip out after I’ve studied those lips for far too long.
“Okay,” I repeat. “Marry me.”