Authors: Raven St. Pierre
This wasn’t supposed to be happening.
*****
Matt
Each of the linen-covered seats were now filled and all eyes were focused on Dean where he stood beside the minister. His hands hung loosely at his sides and I took note of the fact that he didn’t look the least bit nervous as he waited for his bride to meet him at the altar. Tiny, white lights spiraled the length of each pillar that lined the perimeter of the yacht club’s ballroom and the chandeliers above had dimmed just before the ceremony began.
As I stood behind my tripod, I thought back to my two brothers’ weddings—the last I’d attended before this. Luke’s ceremony had been far from traditional, with me embarrassing the hell out of myself as I officiated, but I remembered how sure he seemed to be despite the short amount of time he’d known his soon-to-be wife. I secretly envied the certainty I saw behind his eyes. Every man should get to experience that, marrying the love of his life.
I found Brook in the audience of about two-hundred fifty guests. This wedding was sort of a
‘who’s who’
in Hollywood, but even then, she stood out among the A-listers. Brook was by far the most stunning woman in the room. Hands down. When she came out of the guestroom earlier to say she was ready, my mind was blown. I mean, she was always incredibly attractive, but tonight? Tonight she made my heart race. The fabric of a charcoal-gray dress melted over each and every detail of her body, every single curve, like liquid flowing over her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. With no sleeves or straps covering her bare shoulders, the tattoo on the left one—a rose symbolic of her middle name—was visible every time her hair fell away from it. Red paint stained her full lips, bringing my eyes to her mouth nearly every time I looked at her face. She’d gotten the attention of every man in here when we walked in together, and I was proud to have her on my arm—even if she wasn’t really mine.
Having her here in L.A. made me forget how far I was away from home. She reenergized my spirit—something I didn’t even realize I was in need of until I felt the difference. In a couple days, I’d be seeing her off on a plane and it’d be back to life as usual after that. I can admit that I wasn’t quite ready to let her go.
Mid-thought, the organist played his final note and then the violinist took over with an arrangement of the wedding march. All Mara and Dean’s guests stood and the crowd gasped collectively when Mara entered the sanctuary on her father’s arm. She smiled and was patient as the photographer took several pictures to capture the moment, and then the lens of my camera followed as she slowly made her way toward the front of the church to Dean. I glanced over at Brook again and she was smiling to herself as she took her seat again.
The minister got on with the ceremony as soon as Mara had taken her place at the altar. The exchange of vows was short, but heartfelt, which was Dean’s doing. He said he hated long, drawn-out weddings. So, for that reason, theirs started right at seven on the dot and he was kissing his bride just fifteen short minutes later. When things died down, I quickly packed up my equipment.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m here,” a soft voice, one filled with excitement, chirped from behind as I zipped the last of my bags.
I turned to find Brook standing there, her eyes darting around the room at all the glittering lights and familiar faces she’d likely seen onscreen a time or two. I found myself hoping this experience would be filed away among some of the most memorable times of her life, punctuating her time spent here with me. However, for now, I was just happy to see her smile.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s taking everything in me not to pass out right now,” she added. When I had all my things together, her slender hand gently gripped my bicep and she followed me toward the exit.
That was new—her latching on to me just because, but I definitely liked it.
“We’re leaving?” she asked.
There was a hint of sadness in her voice at the thought of our evening ending here. I smiled. “No, just taking my stuff out to the limo. Dean told me to plan for their driver to get us home just in case we decide to drink,” I explained. “That’s one of the reasons I had a car service bring us here tonight. Well… that and the fact that I couldn’t envision us pulling up to this thing in my truck.”
She smiled again, still clinging to my arm as we exited the building. “Why not? I wouldn’t have cared,” she replied, and I knew that was the truth. She wasn’t materialistic or concerned with what people thought of her… one of her many loveable qualities.
When we first arrived, there was only one rogue reporter lurking, but now quite a few had apparently caught wind of what was going on and gathered, no doubt hoping to get a glimpse of the newlyweds. At the sight of them hovering on the walkway, I felt Brook hold me a little tighter. While it was clear she got a kick out of seeing all the celebrities here tonight, I got the impression she wasn’t comfortable with this part—the invasiveness of the media.
I quickly handed my things to the limo driver and he placed them in the trunk. As soon as he was done, I took Brook back inside, away from all the cameras, the media hounds. The ballroom had cleared out considerably as guests began to head out to the luxury yacht Dean chartered for the reception. We’d be cruising until around ten or so, according to him and then he was hell-bent on taking advantage of the limo for the rest of the night. He and Mara were known partiers, so it didn’t surprise me that this was how they intended to end the evening—going out with a bang. If Brook was up to it, we’d been invited to tag along with them and the rest of the bridal party wherever they ended up.
I was down to let loose. Ever since Glastenburg’s offer had been put on the table, every time my thoughts weren’t occupied, my mind wandered back to the documentary that was never going to happen. So, to say that I could use a strong drink, something to clear my head, was an understatement.
I escorted Brook outside the back way. Security—those employed by the yacht club, as well as Dean and Mara’s personal detail—made it impossible for reporters to venture this far. For that reason, the only sound to be heard was that of crickets serenading us from the damp grass as we walked. The path to the boat was lined with dimly lit globes along the edge of the grass. When the walkway narrowed, I let Brook step in front of me, accidentally placing a hand at the small of her back when I did. While it felt natural to touch her like that, I got the feeling
she
wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, so I pulled away. When we approached the dock, I simply offered her my hand as she stepped off the gangway that led us onto the yacht.
“Thank you,” she said softly, and I swear her cheeks tinted red when her hand left mine, but it was hard to be sure without much light.
“No problem,” I said back, very much distracted by the fit of that damn dress again.
I made myself look away from her and I took in the sound of the music, which led us to the large room at the center of the ship. Tables decorated with black, linen napkins and elaborate centerpieces were arranged around the dance floor. Brook gawked as we stood at the entrance.
“Everything’s so beautiful, Matt,” she said in awe. “It’s almost enough to take your breath away.”
My gaze drifted over to her when she spoke. Yes, this was all really nicely decorated; however,
she
was the only thing in this room capable of taking my breath away. Those exact words almost flew carelessly from my mouth, but I stopped them just in time. Not speaking my mind, not being open with my feelings, was one of the sacrifices I’d made for the sake of this friendship.
Straightening my tux, I held out my arm for Brook to link hers with it. A hint of a smile touched her lips when she glanced up and then the next thing I felt was heat from her body, warming my side as she moved closer, allowing me to escort her inside. It seemed so right having her beside me, not pulling away, not afraid that our closeness would somehow compromise the integrity of our friendship. Regardless of whatever feelings Brook may have been hiding on the inside, for now, she was with me.
Our seats were just beside the bridal party’s table. Dean and Mara hadn’t come in yet, but it looked like everyone else had made it over. If they were keeping to schedule, we’d be setting sail in a few minutes.
“So… do you get to do things like this all the time?”
A lingering gaze from her dark eyes almost made me forget the question. “Uh... on occasion. Like the movie screening tomorrow; that’ll be a pretty big deal, too. So… yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“I honestly forgot we were even going to that.” She gnawed the side of her lip for a second and then went on. “All this… the elaborate parties, movie premiers… it makes Lindmore seem like nothing but a speck on the map.” A gentle laugh followed the statement, but I didn’t join her.
“I guess I could see how someone would feel that way, but not me. If I could do what I’m doing here back home, I’d pack my bags and go back in a heartbeat.”
Brook studied my face for a few second and I stared back at hers. There was definitely a message hidden beneath my words and her expression made me wonder if she decoded it. While, yeah, Lindmore was quieter and more laid-back compared to L.A., it was far from insignificant like she was implying. Home could
never
be irrelevant, because that was where it all started for me—meeting her, falling for her.
Clearing her throat, she looked away quickly as if my thoughts had been heard aloud. It was so hard holding all this in, but I didn’t have much choice.
Everyone’s attention went toward the double-doors on the opposite side of the room and cheers went up when Mara and Dean entered. They looked so happy, sharing a kiss before being led to their table. Shortly after, the rest of the bridal party was seated and I saw the caterers working twice as quickly now to get set up, trying to keep to the tight schedule, I assumed.
“Are we moving?” Brook asked, turning toward the window behind us.
I nodded, although I hadn’t realized it at first either. The water was still kind of choppy from the storm that passed through, so there had been a gentle sway to the boat even when we were docked. However, now, we were definitely easing away from the land and we wouldn’t be returning for a solid two hours—just long enough for everyone to eat, dance, and then mingle a little.
As soon as I answered Brook’s question, a couple of the guests—one of which had recently starred in a box-office hit I remembered her and her sisters going to see a couple months ago—passed our table, recognized me, and stopped to chat a bit. He went on about how much he enjoyed my documentary, how he and his wife had seen it twice now. Flattered, I thanked him and shook his hand, pausing our conversation to introduce Brook to the dapper, middle-aged, British gentleman who’d clearly rendered her speechless.
“Uh… Wilson, this is Brooklyn,” I said, trying not to laugh as she sat beside me in shock, stiff as a board. “From the look on her face, I’m assuming she already knows exactly who you are, so…”
Brook snapped out of the daze when she realized both my and Wilson’s attention was now on her.
“Oh my gosh! I’m a huge fan,” she gushed, taking Wilson’s hand when he offered it to her.
“Pleasure meeting you,” he replied, and then introduced us to his wife as well. They actually stuck around and talked with Brook and I a bit until the emcee announced that the servers were about to start bringing dinner around.
“I
cannot
believe that just happened,” Brook whispered, leaning toward me as she tried to contain her excitement in front of our full table. “My sisters are gonna
die
when I tell them I got to meet him.”
It was great seeing her enjoy herself like this. “Maybe before the night is over you can get a picture with him and send it to them.”
She looked at me and grinned. “You know I started to ask him to take one with me, right? I just didn’t want to embarrass you by acting all… I don’t know… brand new.”
I waved her off. “Please. You should’ve done it! Don’t worry about embarrassing me. I’ll just piece my career and reputation back together when you leave. No big deal,” I teased, prompting a hard flick to the outside of my thigh beneath the table.
“Real cute,” she said with a smile just before a salad was set in front of her and then an identical one in front of me the next second.
One course followed another until dinner was officially over. The sound of silverware clanking against champagne flutes filled the air, prompting Mara and Dean to share another kiss in front of the crowd.
“When I get married, I’m putting a note in the program that there will be no banging on the dinner glasses,” Brook said softly when she leaned in.
I burst out laughing when I realized how serious she was. “But that’s tradition, Scrooge.”
She laughed at the name I gave her. “Tradition or not, it’s annoying as hell,” she replied. “And people always do it at the dumbest times! Like now… when the bride and groom just got done eating. Give the people a chance to wipe their mouths and grab a stick of gum first,” she went on. I was nearly on the floor laughing now. She looked at me with a smirk on her face. “Am I wrong, though?”
“At the very least you’re overthinking it.”
Brook shrugged, but didn’t back down from her position, adding, “Still, it’s annoying…”