Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brooke spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess Hollywood left behind. The guests departed, the throngs of paparazzi melted away, and soon they were left with nothing but limply-hanging streamers and a hotel full of heart-shaped cookies.
“What do you want us to do with all the food?” one of her waitstaff asked, toting a tray of elaborate hors d’oeuvres.
Brooke pushed back her hair and tried to focus through her pounding headache. “I don’t know. Is there a shelter or food bank nearby? If not, tell everyone they can take whatever they like.”
The waiter rushed off to stake his claim on some prime suckling pig, and Brooke turned her attention back to dismantling the gorgeous wedding arch. The bridesmaids had all abandoned their bouquets, and now roses and lilacs were trampled underfoot, wilted petals scattered all around the patio.
She felt like crying.
“And I thought we did some damage inside.”
Brooke looked up. Riley was hovering nearby, a sheepish expression on his face. “What do you want?” she asked tiredly. She could have laid down and slept for a hundred years, but there was still so much to do to wipe the memory of this disastrous day from the hotel.
“I want to talk,” Riley said, moving closer.
Brooke glanced up at him. God, the man even looked good with his shirt askew and the purple shadow of a black eye forming, but she fought to stay strong.
This was how she wound up in this mess in the first place—letting a rising heart rate and that slow, delicious flip in her stomach overpower all her logic and reason.
“You want some help with that?” he asked, then reached up and lifted down the frame she’d been straining for.
“Thanks.” Brooke swallowed. The drama of the day had faded, leaving nothing but a dull ache behind. “Where’s Archer?”
“He left. A while ago. Said something about getting a red-eye out.”
She nodded. That was one thing less to deal with. Maybe, this time, he’d gotten the message that it was over.
“You didn’t say he was in town.” Riley stacked a couple of chairs.
“I didn’t know,” Brooke said. “He showed up about five minutes before you did.”
Riley nodded slowly. “And if I hadn’t interrupted you . . . ?”
“What, you think I would have fallen into his arms again?” Brooke paused, a flicker of irritation sparking to life. “I told you what happened with him, how he lied to me. I was handling it, I didn’t need you muscling in and humiliating me in front of everyone.”
“He deserved it,” Riley protested.
“And what did I deserve?” she challenged him. “You guys brawling in the middle of my biggest event? Don’t pretend you did any of that on my behalf. I don’t know what macho guy thing you were trying to prove, but it had nothing to do with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Riley said, looking chastened. “It got out of hand. I just couldn’t stand to see him put his hands on you, after everything he put you through.”
“Put me through,” Brooke repeated, with emphasis.
“What happened with Archer has nothing to do with you! You knew how much this wedding meant to me, how much time and work I put into making everything perfect. Did you stop for a second to think about that? About my reputation, and career? No,” she answered for him, emotions storming inside.
“You just went in swinging. Because you have no idea what it means to work like this, put everything into a project so you can be proud.”
Riley’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Since when?” Brooke shot back. “You’ve been here two years now, pouring beer, and partying late, and screwing everything that moves!”
The moment the words were out, she regretted them, but it was too late. Riley’s expression hardened.
“So it took me some time to figure out what I wanted,” he replied. “But I’m here now, trying to make it happen. You’re the one still running. You know there’s something real between us, but you’re still so scared of being hurt again that you don’t trust your heart at all.”
“What are you saying?” Brooke asked, confused. “You’ve been telling me from the start all you wanted is fun.”
He looked away. “I was wrong. I want more, Brooke.” He met her eyes again. “I was going to tell you tonight, that I want us to be together. For us to do this, for real.”
Brooke stared at him in disbelief. He was saying exactly what she’d been hoping he’d say, but it was all wrong. How was she supposed to believe him now?
She shook her head. She couldn’t handle this, not after everything. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look around!” she exclaimed, tears stinging in the back of her throat. “Everything’s a mess. I’m not ready. I trusted Archer. I trusted you! And then you turn around and pull a stunt like this!”
“I’m sorry, I screwed up.” Riley’s expression slipped. “But you and me, we’re great together. I know you feel it too.”
He reached for her, but she pulled back. She knew that if she touched him, held him, it would be too much. She couldn’t resist the chemistry between them, but she knew now she had to.
“This was a mistake from the start,” she said, her heart raw and aching. “I’m not ready.”
“You are,” Riley insisted. “You’re just scared, and I get that, but I’m not like him. You’re the first thing I’ve been sure about in so long. I promise, I won’t let you down again?—”
“You’re not listening to me!” Brooke interrupted.
“I can’t do this again. I can’t. You’ve spent the past month telling me all you want is a good time.
No drama, no strings, remember?” she quoted his own casual promise back at him, and saw Riley flinch at the reminder.
“Now you’re standing here, promising me .
. . what? A date on Friday night? Commitment?
A future together?” Brooke gulped back the tears.
“Until you change your mind again. You don’t even know what you want, Riley, but I do. I want you to leave me alone.”
He shook his head. “You don’t mean that. I know you. I know you deserve someone who really loves you?—”
“Stop,” Brooke said again, feeling her last thread fray. “Please, just stop. I have work to do here, and a million calls to make, and . . .”
And if he kept talking any longer, she might just give in.
Let him wrap her up in his strong embrace and promise that everything between them was going to be fine.
And maybe it would, for a little while. But Brooke knew herself now, better than she had a few months ago, and jumping straight into a new relationship was the last thing she needed—especially with a man who prided himself on staying unattached.
How long would it be until she was just another tether holding him back? How long until Riley pulled up anchor and sailed away, and Brooke was left with a heart that hadn’t even begun to start healing?
“It’s finished,” she said finally, even though it felt the furthest thing from over. “It was fun while it lasted, Riley, but we were never going to be anything real. Good luck with everything, OK?”
She turned and hurried inside, before she could see the hurt in his eyes.
Before he could see the stitches on her beat up, broken heart rip open all over again.