Chapter 17 – Slater
Chapter Seventeen
SLATER
I ’m going stir-crazy. Brooks's condo might be big, but it’s not helping at the moment. I’ve wandered from one room to another, bored out of my mind. A few months ago, the idea of being trapped in my apartment sounded like a dream. The reality of that is way different.
I know I can go outside, but I don’t want to. I’m keeping myself off of social media so I don’t have to face or deal with it. I want to keep my stress to a minimum. I read in one of the baby books that it is for the best.
“Babe.”
I smile when I hear Brooks call for me. He has been my saving grace through all of this, even though it has affected him as well.
“I’m in the living room,” I shout back, shoving my book under the pillow on the couch.
“What’s that?” Brooks asks, catching me.
“Nothing.” I shift to sit in front of it.
Brooks comes over, leaning down to kiss me.
My eyes fall closed, and I lean forward, kissing him back.
If I could kiss him all day every day, I would forget about all my problems. Brooks has the superpower of making me forget about anything else in those moments.
“Got it.” Brooks smirks, his mouth still against mine.
“Hey. You tricked me.” I push at his chest and try to grab my book. He’s way quicker than me. He glances at the book in his hand and back at me. “I can explain.”
“Now that you’ve been busted? Would you have told me?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I’m bored,” I huff in my own defense.
“I know, I’m sorry.” His face softens, and a trace of guilt shows. He was only teasing about the book. It’s a baby book he ordered, and we were supposed to read it together. It was on the table, so I might have been peeking inside.
“Please stop saying sorry.” I tug his hand for him to sit down next to me. When he does, he scoops me into his arms and onto his lap. “This is my doing.”
“No, it’s not.” Now it’s Brooks being defensive but for me. He really is a good man. Brooks might go about things in not the best of ways, but he always means well. He is passionate about those he cares about, and I so happen to be at the top of that list.
“It is. If I hadn’t jumped to conclusions that night, maybe all of this wouldn’t have happened.”
"You were normal."
I snort a laugh. "I wasn't pregnant then." It's sweet how he defends me even against himself. Crap, I'm going to fall in love with him at this rate. Going to, Slater? Really? I push that thought to the side. There is way too much already going on to go there.
"You kind of were." He tries again.
"What, like five seconds?"
"It counts."
"Thank you."
"It's not all you." He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
"I shouldn't have gone and told everyone about our engagement.
" I’m not sure if we are engaged, but I am keeping that thought to myself for now.
Don't you need a ring? Also, why don't I think the idea of marrying him isn't so crazy anymore?
"Or went over to Felipe's place."
"Sure, that too." He doesn’t sound the least bit regretful about that.
"Don't make me laugh about it." I smack his chest. "It's not funny; you're getting all this hate." Which extra sucks. Why is the good man in all of this being dragged through the mud when it should be Felipe? He's the user, asshole, liar, and so many other things.
"I know I told you last night, but I want to say it again: No matter what happens with all of this, we'll be okay.
" I nod. He said that after we made love last night, when we were lying in bed.
That he could take care of us. That the baby and I would never want or need for anything.
It did bring comfort, but now I'm starting to get pissed about all of it.
Which is honestly better than sad. "I’ve got a surprise for you.
What shoes do you want me to grab for you? "
"Shoes? Where are we going?"
"Just downstairs."
“You want me to go to work with you?”
“What shoes, babe?”
“I'll change really quick.” I wiggle, trying to get up, but he doesn’t let me. “Do you want me to change or not?”
“I want a kiss.” He claims one before I try to give it to him. I smile against his mouth. “Go, we need to get downstairs. We’re late.”
“Late?” I slip off his lap.
“The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll know.”
“It’s not a wedding, is it?” I point a finger at him.
“I could do that?” Shit, did I just give him an idea?
“Give me a couple of seconds.” I hurry back to the bedroom and into the closet.
It’s strange seeing all my things next to Brooks’s.
I swear each day more and more of my stuff starts to take up his place.
It started with me leaving a few things here and there, and now it looks as though I kinda live here.
I toss on my wide-leg black slacks that have a stretchy waist. I noticed yesterday my pants are starting to get more snug.
I grab a blouse and slip on shoes. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, brushing my hair out and putting on lip gloss and mascara.
I have to admit it feels good to be getting out.
I'm sure I'll just be staying in the kitchen at the private table, but I could run into that Gabby girl.
She wasn't there the last time I was. I'm not sure whether Brooks fired her or if she simply had a day off.
I didn't ask him about it. I wanted to, but there are so many other stressors right now that I decided to pick my battles.
Believe me, it’s been eating away at me that she thinks she got away with it.
Or better yet that she’s somehow untouchable.
The girl did forge a note, but if I say something, then it's me pushing for him to fire her.
Maybe I should let it go. There are enough problems to deal with as it is.
Still, she's sneaky, and it irks me after my disastrous friendship with Sara.
“This look okay?” I ask Brooks as I enter the room.
“God, you’re breathtaking.” His heated stare eats me up. How the heck does this man continue to make me feel this way when the entire world seems to be crumbling around us? “We need to leave, or I’ll take you back to bed.”
“I’m not opposed to that.” I smirk. I have been itching to get out of here, but I wouldn't turn that offer down. I think my body went too long without sex, and Brooks flipped the switch inside of me.
“We don’t have time.” He takes my hand, leading me out and onto the elevator. “They’re already waiting for you.”
“Me? Who is waiting for me?” Oh no. “What have you done?”
“Nothing for social media. This is private.” I give him a look. “Swear it.”
I trust him and let him lead me into the back of The Plate. We pass the table in the kitchen and head out toward the main part of the restaurant. They aren’t open yet. Brooks stops at two double doors, pushing them open. Three girls turn around to face us. Bright smiles light up their faces.
“Is this her?”
“Gorgeous, how did you land her?” Two women speak at the same time.
“Ah, thanks.” I smile back at them.
“You’re Slater?” a redhead asks. It hits me who she is: Frankie. Brooks has talked about his friends from poker and their partners. This is them.
“That's me.” A mischievous smile spreads across Frankie’s face.
“We’re here to celebrate. I’m Luna,” The pretty blonde pulls me in for a quick hug.
“And to come up with a plan.” Frankie rubs her hands together.
“A plan?” I glance at Brooks, who shrugs.
“They wanted to meet you,” he tells me.
“And plot the demise of Felipe.” Frankie looks way too excited about this. The other two nod their heads in agreement.
Damn, I think I’m going to like these girls.
“Do you guys have any ideas?” I ask as I take a seat at the table set for four.
“Not yet, but that’s why we’re all here together. Nat and I are lawyers, and Luna is?—”
“I’m a spender,” the delicate blonde interjects with a smile. Everyone is so pretty, Nat with her chestnut hair and the pert nose and wide-set eyes who looks like a movie star lawyer, and Frankie with the red hair and that body that would make pin-up models cry with envy.
I run my hands over my own curvy figure and remind myself that this is the body Brooks loves. Or at least lusts after.
“She’s a planner,” Frankie corrects. “Luna plans enormous fundraisers.”
“Where I spend a lot of money.” Luna’s like her name, fine-featured and glowing from within.
“I can attest that she spends a lot of money,” a deep voice booms in the space. We all turn at once to see three men walk in. One of them I recognize because he’s Kaden Gunner, the star quarterback of the Mavericks. The other two look vaguely familiar.
“I didn’t say you needed to come.” Brooks sounds peeved. He lays a hand on my shoulder as if he’s afraid one of them will steal me away.
“I had to drive Luna here,” the deep-voiced guy says, pulling up a chair and shoving it between Luna and Nat. “Move over, Nat, would you? It’s been a good fifteen minutes since I was last with Luna. That’s about all I can handle.”
“Unlike this wimp, I haven’t seen Frankie all morning.” Kaden leans down and places a loud kiss on Frankie’s cheek. “How’d I do, kitten?”
“You’re very patient.” Frankie pats the quarterback on his head like he’s a puppy. Kaden just grins happily.
The other guy who is literally the walking poster-child for tall, dark, and handsome, takes a seat between Nat and me.
He hangs a satchel over the back of the chair and pulls out a gorgeous cream sweater with an orange and blue star pattern across the chest. A moment later I realize that it’s not a store-bought sweater, but one he’s actually knitting.
“Oh my God, you’re Dylan Wolfson. I read your feature in the Times on men with needles. What was it called? Cocky Crafting?”
A slight reddish-tinge appears on Dylan’s cheeks. “They liked the alliteration, I guess.”
The girls laugh, but the guys groan.
“Dylan is always trying to steal the spotlight from us,” Graham complains. “You pull out the knitting to make us look like losers.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve won a Super Bowl,” says Kaden. But then he turns to Dylan. “You could dial down the whole ‘I’m an enlightened man who creates clothes with two sticks’ thing.”
“I could, but where would the fun be in that?” Dylan counters.
That draws a laugh from me which, in turn, earns a growl from Brooks.
“I thought you were coming to plan a way to save Slater’s reputation,” he says to the big crowd.
“What about The Plate?” Graham asks.
“It will recover on its own.” He sounds confident as he passes out an extra set of glasses, pitchers of lemonade and iced tea, a carafe of coffee, and a banana and cocoa coffee cake.
The rest of them nod. It’s probably true. Brooks’s food is so good that people won’t be able to stay away.
“Tell us what you have been thinking.” Frankie says.
Nat and Frankie plate the cake up while Brooks and I explain everything that has happened up until now.
The cheating story is embarrassing but draws disgusted looks from everyone, which makes me feel better.
They’re even more disturbed about the way Felipe made me out to be the cheater.
I end with the livestream that exposed Brooks’s violent threat.
“He didn’t mean it,” I say in Brooks’s defense.
“He did,” the three men say in unison.
“I did,” Brooks confirms.
“Brooks thinks that Felipe is stealing empty bottles from the restaurant where he works, that he pretends he’s bought and then he gives reviews of them. And he lives in a fancy condo he can’t afford.”
“The management agent told me Felipe is behind on his payments,” Brooks shares.
Everyone starts giving out ideas on how to expose Felipe. Kaden is chosen as the one who would be able to get Felipe on camera.
“Won’t he be suspicious because you’re friends?” I point to Kaden and Brooks.
Kaden shakes his head. “Brooks doesn’t have social media, and I don’t use it either. I’ve got a PR agency that maintains my Insta account.”
“This plan seems overly complicated.” Graham isn’t a fan.
There’s a small silence that falls in the room because he’s not wrong.
Frankie scrunches her nose. “We’re going about this all wrong. Instead of trying to show Felipe is faking his wine reviews, because let’s face it, that’s boring and won’t redeem your reputation, we need to show that Slater is the victim and you stood up for her.”
“What’s your suggestion?” Brooks leans forward.
“Kaden messages Felipe and asks for a wine recommendation. Felipe will be thrilled to do this. By way of thanks, Kaden invites Felipe for a stadium tour. He also invites Sara. We’ll think of a reason later.
The two are in the same place and fireworks.
” Frankie touches her fingertips together and then opens her fingers wide as if to mimic something exploding.
“And we’ll get both of them to agree to being recorded ahead of time. Kaden can tell Felipe that the footage will be forwarded to him to share on his socials,” Nat says.
“We will definitely share all this footage on our socials.” Kaden claps his hands together and grins widely.
Brooks and I share a look. Neither of us are convinced about this. “I’d rather cut his belly open,” Brooks says quietly.
I pat his arm. “It’ll be a metaphoric flaying.”