Chapter 36
Caleb
The last-minute aisle worked out perfectly, and only a few guests complained about mud on their shoes or their heels digging into the wet ground. Hannah and Preston exchanged meaningful vows they wrote themselves. And Gage stumbled only a little bit during the recessional.
“Looking good, man.” Joey claps my back as I survey the patio. It’s crowded with guests avoiding the damp grass, and the line at the bar is longer than I’d like.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” I say. But we’re close. So close.
“I think I like this better.”
“Hmmm?” I turn to Joey.
“Working with Foley’s, not being the one in charge…fuck, don’t make me say it,” he groans.
Oh, I’m so making him say it. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Asshole. I’d rather be a sous. It’s so much easier. Think Paul will have me back for good?”
Thank god, because having Joey back is part of my plan. “Yeah, man, I think we’ll be able to work something out. C’mon, we’ve got to plate salads.”
I should get to work, but I can’t move as I watch Brooke approach Judy and Kent fucking Chadwick. He hugs her and kisses her cheek. My stomach turns. I’d prefer he keep his hands and lips off her. Not that I’m at all worried about Kent, but that doesn’t keep the jealousy and anger at bay.
“You coming?” Joey asks, but he follows my gaze and keeps walking to the catering tent alone.
I stride across the patio and make it to the trio as Kate, one of my waitstaff, holds a platter of hors d’oeuvres in front of them. Roasted tomato and goat cheese crostini.
“Brooke,” Kent says. “You have to try these. They’re delicious.”
“Oh yes, dear, you must.” Judy’s eyes meet mine. “Not too bad for Foley’s.” She can’t help herself, can she?
“No, thank you,” Brooke says.
“Don’t be silly,” Kent says. “I’m sure your boss doesn’t mind.” He smiles at Judy who basks in the attention. Kate stands awkwardly holding the platter.
“She said no, thank you,” I say, firmly. “Thank you, Kate, we’re all set.”
Kent scoffs. “I think Brooke can speak for herself.”
Asshole.
“She can and she did. It seems you can’t listen.
Or remember that tomatoes give her migraines,” I say, fisting my hands into my pockets.
Either to keep them from grabbing Brooke’s face and kissing her in front Judy and Kent, or to control the rage currently coursing through my veins.
I turn to Brooke. “They need us in the tent.”
“Excuse us,” Brooke says politely, following me off the patio. I thought I kept my anger in check enough, but Brooke’s silence as we walk is making me think otherwise. She stops once we round some trees between the patio and the tent. She fists my chef coat, smirk on her face.
“What is it?” I ask.
She casts her eyes down and shakes her head, ponytail waving behind her. Then reaches up on her toes, holds my face in her hands, and gives me a soft, sweet kiss.
“Let’s light the votives in the tent in about ten minutes,” she says. Back in planner mode. It’s so fucking sexy how impressive she is when she’s working. “And I gave you the list of tables with dietary restrictions?”
“You did. Twice.”
“Okay, good.” She looks around. “This is all going well, don’t you think?”
“It’s amazing, Brooke. You’ve done an incredible job.”
“We’ve done an incredible job.” She smiles up at me. “I think we make a good team. I’m sad it’s all coming to an end.”
My fingertips graze hers. “We’re not coming to an end, Brooke.” I’ll miss this, though. Working on the same team. Having excuses to be together all the time. We’re both going to be extremely busy once I start work at the farm and Judy retires.
“I know, it’s just…I’ve enjoyed working with you this summer. And not only because of how well you wear a chef coat and…you know…the incredible sex.”
“Brooke.” I look at her, faux-scandalized. “There are people here. People with ears.” Then, only because we’re hidden by trees, I pull her in to give her a good and thorough kiss.
“Ugh, gross,” Maddie says behind us. “Brooke, I do actually need you now.”
Brooke pulls away and brushes her fingertips to her lips. “See you later, chef.”
Two hours later, entrees are plated and I can finally breathe.
The only glimpses I’ve managed to get of Brooke have been from afar as she darts around putting out the various fires of the night.
But when she spots me, I’m met with a gorgeous smile.
It makes the anger and frustration I was feeling toward Kent and Judy dissipate into thin air.
From here on out, it should be a breeze. Once Hannah and Preston cut the cake, we’ll slice and serve it and start packing up for the night. The guests will continue to drink and dance, and in no time, I’ll be back in the carriage house with Brooke.
I stand outside the tent and watch the last of the entrees being served to the tables in the back. We’ve got a great crew tonight, and I wish Dad were here to see it. He’d be proud of what we’ve accomplished.
“Well, Caleb, it seems you can handle this level of wedding, after all.” Judy stands next to me, surveying the tent. Suddenly the anger is back, more intense than it was before.
“It seems I can,” I bite.
“You may think proving your competence after all of these years will make you a match for my daughter, but you’re mistaken.”
“Excuse me?” I say, turning to her.
“You heard me,” she says, giving me a cursory glance.
“I had my suspicions, but your friend Jennnifer filled me in. You’re simply a good-looking man who happens to be there.
Brooke will realize you can’t give her a life like this.
Look around, Caleb. So many attractive young men with money, from the right families. ”
The right families. My nostrils flare as heat roars through my body. But instead of letting that rage take over, I remember Brooke’s hands on my cheeks and the look she gave me a few hours ago at the end of cocktail hour.
Breathe in. Breath out.
“You’re right, Judy,” I say. “What I can offer Brooke is not the same as what some of these guys can. I understand that.”
“Good,” she says. “I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
“Agreement?”
“That you’ll end things with Brooke. Just like you ended things with Jennifer when you realized you weren’t good enough for this way of life.” She gestures behind us to the Quincy mansion. “Everything I do for Brooke is in her best interest.”
Anger pulses through my veins, self-doubt lingers at the edges of my mind.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Once, this would have broken me. I scoff, looking down at her. For too long, I worried about what Judy would think about me and Brooke. I always have been and always will be good for Brooke. I don’t need anyone else’s approval for that. Only hers.
“You can keep telling yourself that, Judy,” I say. “It might help you sleep at night. I’ve seen how you treat her and how you put yourself before her. But you’re right, one day Brooke is going to have a realization. Only it won’t be about me. It’ll be about you, and it’ll be too late.”
She purses her lips. “Be careful, Caleb. There is a lot I can do to make things hard for you and your family.” She’s so confident it’s almost funny.
“You’ve already tried that, Judy. You tried to ruin my parents’ marriage and they survived it.”
Her face falls, but she quickly adjusts into her signature resting face.
“Yes, I know the truth,” I say. “And so does Brooke.”
Shattering glass interrupts us. A lot of it. This late into the evening, there are plenty of women who have ditched their heels to dance barefoot. A recipe for disaster. Brooke’s already on the dance floor blocking guests. I run to the catering tent to grab a broom.
When I get back, Brooke and Kate are both crouched on the floor picking up the larger pieces of broken flutes and tumblers.
I work my way through the tables, moving the empty Chiavari chairs out of the way.
A group of guests near the dance floor block my way, too drunk to care that I’m trying to keep them from injuring themselves.
Over their heads I see Gage stalking toward Brooke. He has that hazy look he’s had all night, but all of his focus is on her. She stands and places another piece of glass on the tray.
Gage grabs her waist, pulling her close to him. Fucking asshole. The broom falls from my hands. Brooke’s quick enough to put the arm holding her clipboard between them. He sways her back and forth, pressing his body against hers in a way that’s entirely inappropriate.
I’m still blocked.
Fuck this.
I climb on a cushioned chair and onto the table, finally catching the attention of the guests who wouldn’t move.
When I jump off the table, Gage’s hand is on Brooke’s ass and she’s trying to push him away.
Kate is trying to help, but she’s young and unsure what to do.
We’ve always instructed our team not to make a scene when any issues arise.
I’m about to change that policy to “punch anyone in the face who lays a hand on someone without their consent.”
“Get your fucking hands off of her,” I shout, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from Brooke. He stumbles back drunkenly when I let go.
“Caleb,” Brooke says, face filled with relief. Until she notices I’m seething. I haven’t had a chance to process my conversation with Judy. I’m riled the fuck up.
“It’s okay. I’m fine,” she says, her voice shaky. She brushes invisible dust off the front of her dress. She’s clearly rattled and uncomfortable.
“Yeah, man,” Gage slurs. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine,” I say, standing toe-to-toe with him. “Don’t you fucking touch her again.”
“Chill out, my guy. She’s been flirting with me all weekend.
” He’s the kind of asshole who thinks a woman politely doing her job is flirting with him.
I feel terrible for any woman in customer service who’s ever had to deal with him.
Any woman who’s ever had to deal with him, period.
A crowd grows around us, but my eyes don’t leave his face.
“Don’t mistake my professionalism for flirting,” Brooke says. “Go get some water and call it a night.”
Brooke wraps her hand around my arm and pulls gently to lead me away from the confrontation. Gage looks between us and I see it register on his face.
“You’re with this guy? The fucking caterer?” he chuckles. “It’s your loss, stupid bitch.”
Fuck. Him.
He can belittle me all he wants, but calling Brooke a bitch—that’s the last straw.
Sensing what I’m about to do, Brooke takes her hand off my arm and steps back. I pull my arm back, channel all the anger I’ve felt today—Kent hugging Brooke, Judy patronizing me, Gage touching Brooke—and punch him in the goddamn face.
There’s a collective gasp around us as Gage hits the ground, hand on his jaw. Behind him is the Times reporter with his camera.
“Oh my god,” Brooke says.
Shit.
That felt really fucking good, but I’ve fucked up big time.
Across the dance floor, two other groomsmen walk toward us. I weigh the pros and cons of an all-out brawl erupting in the middle of this wedding.
Instead of coming for me, one groomsman helps Gage off the floor and the other extends his hand to me. Reluctantly, I take it.
“Thanks, man,” he says. “You won me five hundred bucks. I bet Preston that Gage would get punched at this wedding.”
“You’re…uh…welcome,” I say skeptically.
He walks away and the small crowd around us starts to disperse. Some guests look at me and whisper to one another. Others go back to dancing like their friends get punched in the face at social gatherings all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Eventually, it’s just me and Brooke, but Hannah and her parents are walking over.
Brooke takes my hand and rubs her thumb over the red knuckles. “Caleb, thank you for defending my honor and all that, but you need to go cool off, okay? I’ll take care of this.”
“I’m so sorry, Brooke,” I say. I should stay and apologize to Hannah and Preston, to the Quincys, but Brooke’s pleading eyes are enough to convince me it’ll be better if I walk away.