Chapter 25 #2
The first woman takes out her phone. “The ones Brody posted to his socials.” She shows me the screen, swiping through image after image. “Of him as the Emberking of Draventhorne and the Warlock of Zhash-Dhrog. They’re next-level hot.”
My gut is rolling, threatening to bring up my breakfast. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. All the pictures that only the two of us even knew existed are now plastered all over his social media.
It’s my worst nightmare made real. I never drew these for anyone’s eyes but mine, and now the man I trusted with my heart has put them on display for anyone to pick apart.
I can’t focus or think straight. My head’s too full of fire.
“How could you?” I manage.
Brody’s eyes widen. “What?”
I can’t breathe fast enough. It’s like someone’s standing on my chest. “You’re the only other person who’s ever seen them! How could you betray my trust like that?”
“You think I did this?”
“Who else?” I shout. “You’re the only person other than me who has copies of them!”
Through the fog of my anger, I’m dimly aware of people around us watching the show.
“I would never do that!” Brody runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even have access to—”
“Yes, you do. Cara gave it to you yesterday so you could post the video of you and Billy.”
His expression stills, then he shakes his head. “It wasn’t me. I promise.”
But I’m not listening. Every part of me is howling with rage and anguish. I’ve never experienced pain like this. And the worst part of all? I’d trusted Brody enough to fall in love, to hope and dream of a future with him.
“Is it because of the job?” I cry. “Did you think it would swing it for you?”
“No! Jesus Christ! I couldn’t give a shit about that right now. It’s the last thing on my mind.”
“Why? Marv said you wanted it more than anything. I thought it was all that mattered to you.”
“No! You’re all that matters to me!”
“Why?”
“Because I love you!” he shouts.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“What?” I whisper.
“I love you,” he repeats. “I loved you when we were growing up, and I love you even more now. You’re my everything, Piper. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“You … you love me?” I ask, my heart tripping over itself while my brain struggles to catch up.
Brody nods, and his eyes are so full of tenderness that mine prickle with tears.
“Every part of me loves every part of you,” he says, and the sound of women sighing with happiness ripples through the air.
He cups my face. “It’s not the job I want anymore,” he murmurs, then brushes a kiss across my lips. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow. “You love me,” I repeat, clearly not as up to speed as everyone else.
Brody nods, then kisses me gently again, like he’s sealing a promise.
“Oh.” I blink at him, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “But … then who—”
I jump as the front door to the bookstore is flung open with an almighty crash and a jangling of bells.
Marv staggers in wearing shades, his usually slicked-back hair disheveled and his coat buttoned up like he got dressed in the dark.
“Piper! Brody!” he calls across the crowd to us before lurching forward like a drunk Frankenstein. “I’m so fucking sorry!”
Even now, at twenty-eight, when things go wrong and I’m hurting, I want my mom. However, I didn’t expect to have to share her with a guy in his sixties who reeks of cologne and whiskey, and is having a “come-to-Jesus” moment.
We’re all gathered in a booth at Love at First Sip, Brody by my side, and Mom and Marv across from us. Eileen took us to her coffee shop after we dragged Marv out of the bookstore, and is currently fussing over him as much as Mom.
“I brought back pulla for you,” Eileen says, placing an entire loaf in front of Marv like a religious offering. “And considering your current state, Lucy’s made you a Heathcliff. It’s our strongest black coffee.”
She sets a mug down in front of him that looks like crude oil. “It’s dark, intense, and a little dangerous. But you’re a New Yorker, so you can handle it, right?”
“I’m a shitty person!” Marv wails, tears tracking down his cheeks from under his sunglasses.
“No, you’re not, honey,” Mom says, stroking his back. “Whatever’s happened, we can fix it. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
I grind my teeth as I gaze at them. This was meant to be my pity party, but Marv’s stealing the presents and eating all the cake.
“I’m so sorry!” he continues, then grabs a handful of napkins and blows his nose with the dexterity and grace of a toddler.
“There, there,” Eileen says, quickly cutting slices of Pulla. “Your blood sugar is just a little low and you’re tired and emotional. This should help.”
She pushes a plate toward him. “Go on, eat.”
Hand shaking, Marv picks it up and takes a bite.
There’s a brief moment of quiet, then he lets out another wail, his mouth stuffed with bread. “Ih astes oh ood!”
From Mom and Eileen’s delighted reactions, you’d think he’d just walked on water.
“There we go! Pulla makes everything better!”
“Chew and swallow, sweetie, then have some more.”
Lucy brings over the rest of our drinks, and I cup my Lord Byron cinnamon latte, the scent taking me right back to Espresso Yourself and the first time I met Marv. I can’t help being moved by how upset he is, but I’m also furious with him.
And I’m reeling from what Brody said: he loves me.
Mom’s still rubbing Marv’s back. “So, what’s happened? You know you can tell us anything.”
His head lifts, and I see the shadow of his eyes behind his shades, then he drops his gaze back to the plate of pulla.
“Piper had drawn pictures of me that were private,” Brody says, his voice hard and clipped. “Marv took my phone, most likely when I was recovering from rescuing Billy, sent them to himself, then posted them to my social accounts last night.”
Mom and Eileen’s eyebrows nearly reach their hairlines as they exchange a knowing look.
“Oh,” Mom says, then swallows. “And, uh, these pictures … were they—?”
“They weren’t nudes!” I snap.
Mom gives a relieved laugh. “Well, what were they then, honey?”
Brody gazes across at me as if asking my permission.
I nod. The damage is already done, and at least I’m not trying to hide my feelings for him anymore.
He passes his phone to Mom, who scrolls through the carousel while Eileen peers over her shoulder.
Mom sighs with pride. “Oh, sweetie! These are brilliant!”
“And they’re private,” Brody growls.
“I don’t understand why,” Eileen says, her brow furrowed. “They’re wonderful!”
I search for a reason that would make sense to them but come up empty. I can’t tell them I’ve been drawing Brody for years, nor that our so-called “relationship” only really started a couple of days ago.
“They were only meant for us to see,” I say.
“Why?” Mom asks. “You should be proud of what you’ve done. Show the world! I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”
“He stole them and posted them without Piper’s permission,” Brody says directly to Marv.
“I’m s-sorry!”
Eileen puts another slice of pulla on his plate.
“And he’s apologized,” Mom says firmly. “He knows he did something wrong and is atoning for it.”
“Why did you do it?” Brody asks him.
All heads turn Marv’s way. Taking off his shades, he rubs his red-rimmed eyes.
“I was mad,” he begins, his voice tired and subdued.
“At me?” Brody asks.
Marv’s gaze immediately flicks up. “Fu—god no. You’re solid. The best …”
“Then who?”
He takes a sip of his Heathcliff and grimaces before swallowing. “The showrunners of The Chronicles of the Sword and the Flame.”
“Why?”
Marv lets out a heavy sigh. “You didn’t get the job. They chose someone else to play the Warlock of Zhash-Dhrog.”