Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Brooke threw herself into work that week, trying to distract herself from Archer’s text.
She didn’t have to try too hard—with the big Hollywood wedding just days away, she had no time to spare for memories.
There were last-minute guest requests arriving daily, travel arrangements to book, and the entire production of the wedding day to schedule, so smoothly the happy couple wouldn’t even notice the labor behind the scenes.
By the time the big day rolled around, she was elbow deep in wedding favors, and barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone dwell on the ruins of her past relationships.
Her phone buzzed.
Brooke froze, feeling the same sick lurch she’d suffered ever since getting that message from Archer. She should have changed her number by now, instead of having to brace herself whenever she heard the alert, wondering if it was him again.
She fished her phone out from under a stack of purchase orders, almost afraid to read the name on the message ID.
Riley.
Brooke exhaled, and clicked through.
‘What time do you want to meet for the party?’
Brooke paused. She’d forgotten about the Sweetbriar Cove get-together, but looking at her list of things to do, she’d be lucky if she was out of here by midnight.
“Brooke?” One of her assistant managers appeared in her office doorway, weighed down with a stack of boxes. “Where do you want the moisturizer?”
“The what?” Brooke put her phone away without replying. She was trying to coordinate the car services to collect everyone from Boston International Airport—a hundred VIP guests arriving over two days all expecting their own luxury sedan to whisk them out to the Cape.
“I think it’s moisturizer?” Jenny nudged a box open with her nose. “Or is it face cream? Anyway, a whole crate of the stuff just arrived out front. The delivery guy says it shipped from California.”
“I have no idea.” Brooke felt frazzled. “Just leave it here, and I’ll try to figure it out.”
Moisturizer? She opened a bottle, and took a sniff.
Orange-blossom. Maybe it was for the welcome gifts for the guests, but Brooke couldn’t imagine Bitsy planning something like that, not when there was already a tasteful collection of chocolates, vintage wine, and cigars—just for the gentlemen, of course.
Her phone rang, and she answered, still sniffing the tube. “Hello?”
“Brooke, good.” Meredith’s crisp tone was on the other end. “Where are we on the airport transfers?”
“I have every car service in a hundred miles booked.” Brooke returned to her schedule. “They’re all scheduled to each guest’s arrival, and will be waiting for them in airport arrivals.”
“And security?”
“Will be increased here at the hotel. I’ve already hired additional staff for the duration, and talked with the local police force. They know to expect extra activity, and will be on call to help with any crowd control or paparazzi—if word gets out.”
“Which it will, of course,” Meredith sighed. “You can’t have two hundred of Hollywood and DC’s biggest stars descending on one town without drawing attention.”
“Two hundred.” Brooke’s heart stopped.
“Yes, didn’t you get the revised guest list?” Meredith sounded surprised. “I sent it to you ages ago.”
Brooke frantically clicked through her inbox. Sure enough, there was a new message from Meredith titled “tiny change,” sent all of . . . seven minutes ago.
“Double the wedding guests? But . . . we don’t have the rooms!” Brooke gulped.
“Oh, that’s fine. They’re staying in private homes nearby. The Cartwrights have a compound down in Hyannis Port. These are just additional names for the ceremony.”
“Uh huh.” Brooke murmured weakly, already mentally doubling the catering, drinks, favors, seating . . . “Wait, did you guys send face cream?”
“It’s a facial masque,” Meredith explained. “The rest of the supplies will be arriving today. Lila has a sponsorship contract, so we’ll need the toiletries in the hotel all traded out, you understand.”
“Sure.” Brooke added it to her very long list. “Why not?”
“I’ll let you get back to it.”
“One thing,” she remembered, before Meredith could ring off. “I haven’t heard from Lila.”
Meredith paused. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve left her several messages, but she isn’t replying.” Brooke paused, remembering their last conversation. “I really need her to sign off on a couple of things before the ceremony, and the last time we spoke . . . Did she mention what happened with Bitsy?”
“I’ll do all the signing off you need.” Meredith was firm—and didn’t answer the question. “You don’t need to bug her with these details. The less thinking she does right now, the better.”
“I’d really like her feedback on a couple of these changes,” Brooke pushed. “It’s her wedding, after all.”
“She doesn’t care about the details,” Meredith stated crisply. “Trust me, she just wants all this to be over with.”
“OK . . .”
Brooke hung up, still feeling uneasy. It didn’t sound like a recipe for a perfect wedding, but what did she know? To someone like Lila, it was probably just another big event, like all the red-carpet premieres she attended, just with a different colored dress.
She had bigger things to focus on. Like making sure every guest got to enjoy the benefits of an ultra-hydrating retinol mask.
It was going to be another long day.
Riley checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Still no response from Brooke. He’d texted hours ago, and it was no big deal, but it smarted to see the message sitting there: delivered but unanswered.
He wondered if he should send another message. No, that would look desperate. Or would it?
Riley sighed. Was this what his former flings had felt like when he didn’t text them back? If so, karma was having a field day with him right now.
And yes, it was a bitch.
He looked around the bar, restless. Like every summer afternoon, it was packed with happy tourists, pink-eared and sunburned from the beach. He should be happy to see the business thriving, but for some reason, he remembered Cooper’s questions—and his brother’s annoying teasing during his visit.
Was this all he wanted out of life?
Most guys would kill for the set-up he had going here: great job, great friends, and a great woman happy to keep things low-stress and drama-free. He’d cut all the cords and skimmed through life, as easy as his boat bobbing on the summer tide…
But for some reason, he felt an odd itch in his veins. Wondering if maybe there was something he was missing out on, if sailing on by meant he was leaving something better on dry land.
“Riley.”
He turned, glad for a distraction from the pesky existential questions buzzing around in his mind. He found his favorite potter waiting, looking frazzled in cut-offs and a tank top.
“Mackenzie, hi,” Riley grinned. “What can I get you?”
Mackenzie fanned herself. “Two crates of beer and a dozen bottles of wine, please.”
Riley gave her a fake stern look. “Do we need to talk about your drinking problem?”
Mac grinned. “You mean the fact I invited half the town to this party, and forgot that meant we had to feed them?”
“You need some help?” Riley offered.
“Don’t tempt me,” Mackenzie groaned.
“I mean it,” Riley said, glad to be useful. “Neil can cover for me here, and when it comes to shifting beer crates, I’ve got the goods.” He flexed his biceps, and Mackenzie laughed.
“Who am I to stand in the way of a man offering help?”
“Smart woman,” Riley grinned. He threw down his dishcloth. “I’ll go grab the booze. Do you have your car, or do you want me to use the jeep?”
Mac batted her eyelashes. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re lucky to have me.”
Riley headed in back, loading up his trunk with enough booze to keep the people of Sweetbriar Cove merry for at least a few hours.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Mackenzie said, hopping up into the jeep with him.
“Poppy and Coop bought out the wholesaler with steak and hamburgers, Summer’s got dessert locked down, but I totally forgot about my share. ”
“Working on something new?” Riley asked, driving towards the beach.
Mackenzie nodded. “One of my weird projects,” she said vaguely, and Riley remembered how protective she was of her art. She was happy to churn out cute sailboat ceramics all day long to sell in her gallery, but when it came to anything more personal, he’d never even seen a glimpse.
“Are you ever going to show your real stuff?” Riley asked. “I feel like you’ve kept it under wraps for years.”
Mackenzie looked awkward. “You’re not missing anything,” she said. “So, how’s Brooke?”
Riley snorted. “Way to change the subject.”
“Come on,” Mackenzie said, protesting. “Don’t hold out on me. She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Sure.” Riley tried to sound casual, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading at the thought of her.
“I knew it!” Mackenzie whacked him in the arm. “I knew this day would come! You’re in lo-ove,” she said, sing-song, like the annoying little sister he’d never had.
“Mac,” he tried to stop her, warning, but she kept on, excited.
“When are you guys making it official? You know, moving in, settling down, setting a date.”
“Whoa, hold up!” he interrupted her stream of excited chatter. “That’s moving way too fast. We’re not even officially dating just yet.”
“Why the hell not?” Mackenzie frowned. “What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing,” Riley said evasively. “It’s just . . . not the right time.”
“Seriously?” Mackenzie fixed him with a stare. “That’s your play?”
He sighed. “C’mon . . .”
“I don’t get you guys sometimes.” She shook her head. “You know, I always figured you’d drop this playboy thing when the right woman came along, but here you are, with her standing right in front of you, and you still can’t bring yourself to get real. What are you so scared of?”
Riley blinked. “I’m not scared,” he protested, but Mackenzie just snorted.
“Sure.”
“I’m not,” he said again, less forceful this time.
“So you don’t want to be with her?” Mackenzie asked. “My bad.”
Riley scowled. Of course he wanted to be with Brooke, but it wasn’t as simple as that.
Was it?