Unexpectedly You (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

Brooke

I walk in Tuesday morning with two caramel
macchiatos and a straight black coffee, looking as Normal Brooke as ever, and Ms. Marks greets me with a slight frown.

“Oh, Brooke, I forgot to tell you…Nathaniel’s working from home this week to wrap up the photo session for the Tahoe wedding.” She eyes the three cups of coffee, and I bury the kick to my gut and put on a smile.

“No worries, Ms. Marks.” I hand her one of the macchiatos then settle in one of the leather chairs. “I take it you’ll be running the 11:00 with future Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton?” That was supposed to be me and Nate taking the lead on that one. I was hoping that would help jolt us back to the normal we had before our weekend.

She shakes her head, tipping her cup back. After a dainty sip, she licks her bright red lips and taps the edge of the table. “Actually, I think you’re ready to take care of that by yourself.” She smiles when my eyebrows go sky high. “Nathaniel thinks so as well.”

I should be elated. I should be yanking out my phone to type in
Rock first independent meeting!
Instead I squeak a small, “Thank you.” And as soon as she’s in her office, I take the black coffee, march outside, and dump it all over the stupid perfect flowers out front.

***

Joshua kissed me right at 10:15. I led him into it when the alarm went off, and he took his cue. It was soft, nice, fingers on my cheeks and our stomachs pressed together. It was the perfect lead in to date three. But instead of scheduling that, I booked us another date two. Something fun and far away from my apartment or his place.

That date went the same. Everything on time, in place, we had fun…but…but…it fe
lt so…
forced
. I don’t know how to fix it, so I continue to go with my comfort zone dating habits, and I’ve scheduled our date number three—technically four—not leveling up at all. Just… stuck.

I feel like I’m running through pudding. Work seems weird without Nate there, and Ms. Marks says Nate gets this way when he’s deeply involved in his
photo-editing. I should relax and take her word for it, since she’s known him his entire life, but whenever I think about him—which is every forty-six seconds…or less—I picture his beanie covering his dark unruly hair and a cigarette near his lips. Even in my mind I want to yell at him for pulling that stick of death up to his perfect mouth.

I’ve tried talking to my friends about it. Tasha came over yesterday and helped me pick outfits to wear to get out of my dating slump. Morgan wants to take me clubbing this weekend. All I want to do is sit in my pajamas and show them pictures of Nate so they understand just how hunky this guy is, and it’s perfectly okay f
or me to be a little off my game.

Or maybe it isn’t okay, but as my friends they should tell me it is.

I pull out my phone as Snickers hops in my lap, and I try not to think about how Nate hasn’t been to work for four days now. After double-checking the schedule for tomorrow, I go to my goals and add in what I hope gets me through the rest of the week. I’ve been fumbling left and right because while Nate has been physically absent, he’s taken up a lot of head space.

This guy should not have messed up my plan. He wasn’t even on it.

Chapter Twenty-two

Nate

Half of my two weeks out of the office has passed me by. Everything feels stilted and off without having Brooke around to harass. I can’t do this right now. Not yet. My chest feels ripped apart and we haven’t even started yet.

I tighten my running shoes and fly out the front door. There are a few more days before I’m needed back in the office, and I have to get myself sorted out before then.

I’m coughing after one mile and dying after two. My lungs feel like they’re trying to strangle me, and I flop on a park bench to catch my breath.

Chain smoking for the past week probably hasn’t helped. I’ve got to stop. I push the damp hair off my forehead knowing that it’s definitely time for a cut. Instead of running the two miles back, I pull out my phone and dial Viv. I think this is what you’re supposed to do when you need to move on. Get closure or something.

“I got my jewelry,” she answers.

“I…good.”

Now I don’t know what to say. Her voice doesn’t feel achingly familiar anymore.
It feels old…like my past maybe. Maybe I didn’t even need this call. Maybe I just feel like shit because I’m an idiot.

“So…
you’re calling…” she prompts.

“I’m…” I
pause. “I’m about to sound pathetic. I don’t know what went wrong with us, and it’s like until I figure it out, how the hell do I put myself in that position again?”

Viv
laughs a little. “You’re sweet, Nate.”

I’m so damn confused.

“I wasn’t ready for sweet. I wasn’t ready for normal or routine or…”

And I thought it was nice. I liked knowing she’d be at home every night. I liked our stack of takeout menus and that I knew what she’d want at all our favorite places… “And I was.”

“You thrived on our routine, and I was suffocated by it.”

I stop shuffling on the sidewalk. This hits me just as unexpectedly as me walking in on her and Shane. “Why didn’t you say anything,
Viv?”

“Because I knew you’d do whatever I asked.”

I tighten my hand into a fist. “But… How is that a bad thing?”

“I wanted you to want what I wanted, only I wanted you to want it, too.”

Impossible!
“But if I’d known that’s what you wanted, I’d—”

“Nate!” She doesn’t sound angry, but frustrated. “I know. I know you’d have done everything.”

“I’m not trying to get you back or anything.” And holy shit, I’m not. Not even a little bit. This conversation is giving me a frustration headache. “I’m just trying to understand.”

The pause is long enough that I check my phone to see if she’s still there.

“You met someone,” she says.

I open my mouth to lie, but
Viv and I have known each other for way too long for that. “Maybe.”

“I loved you, Nate. I still love you, just not in the right way, and I hated you a little until I got my jewelry back.”

I scratch my forehead. “This really didn’t help.” Or it did, just not in the way I expected because in this moment I don’t miss Viv. It’s not
her
I’m still getting over, it’s our split. The way we split. It’s the idea that you can turn your heart over to someone and they can destroy you for it.

“We just weren’t right, Nate. I put you in an impossible situation by wanting you to simply know what I wanted and not only to know, but to want it too.”

“What’s different with Shane?”

“He thrives on the new thing.
The different thing. To be honest, I don’t know how long I’ll last with anyone. Don’t take it personally.”

Don’t take it personally.
What a load of shit.

“For you, though? Be honest. Don’t hide what you feel or what you want, okay?”

If she hadn’t ruined me, I’d be able to do that. “I gotta run.”

“I’m glad we’re not yelling anymore.”

“Me, too.” I sort of feel like screaming. She put me in an impossible position, and she knew it.

I freeze at the end of the street when I realize the office is a block down. I miss her. I miss giving Brooke crap and I miss her giving me crap, and more than anything, I want that back.

***

I stomp down the stairs after my shower to see Xavier sitting on th
e counter while Morsten stir-fries something on the stove.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, brother.”

“Seriously, you’re never here.”

He slips off the counter. “Mom said you were moping.”

I push around him and snatch the orange juice out of the fridge, pulling off the lid and taking a long swallow so I don’t
yell. “I’m not moping.”

Morsten
waves his spatula. “Out of my kitchen you two. I’m trying to cook. You make it hard to think.”

We wander to the living room and I sink into the couch, taking another swig of my OJ.

Xavier pulls out a cigarette and tilts the pack toward me.

“I quit.”

He snorts. “Since when?”

“Since this afternoon when my lungs wouldn’t let me run more than two miles. And Mom would freak if you lit up in the house anyway.”

He shrugs and reaches for the OJ bottle, but I jerk away. I plan on finishing the thing or I wouldn’t be drinking from the container.

“Why are you such a dick to me?” Xavier asks.

“Why are
you
such a dick?”

Xavier rolls his eyes. “You’re so damn self-righteous, Nate. Chill out. You wanted me to take you out, so I took you out. I thought I was doing you a favor by dropping you off at Celeste’s house because the girl is ridiculous
ly hot, and you’re still like…pathetic.”

“I don’t like Celeste that way, asshole.”

“
Every
guy would feel that way about a girl that hot.”

“Well, not me.”

Xavier lets out this weird frustrated growl as he grabs his hair with his hands and gives me just enough of a smile that I know he isn’t actually pissed. “You and I just think different, Nate. But it’s been long enough after your breakup that you’re seeming pathetic, and I—”

“Let me help you save your breath.”

Xavier smiles and it’s the same smug smirk he’s had since he was like five.

“The chances of me ever, ever taking advice from you is slim, but thanks for bailing me out the other night.”
And I meant it. He knows it because his face changes a bit and he nods.

Xavier laughs before grabbing the remote and slumping even lower in the couch than I am. “You’re such an ass, Nate.”

And now we’re back to status quo.

If only it were this easy with Brooke.

But seriously, she came back after that disaster of an interview, and what a total jerk I was. If she got over it once, maybe she can get over it again. I’d do anything to prevent an awkward conversation with her. I wanna just walk in and have us back to where we were before Tahoe.

Actually,
I need that.

Chapter Twenty-three

Brooke

I walk in the offices at 8:45, one cup of macchiato because Ms. Marks will be out all morning with the Greenwoods. And Nate…

“Hey stranger.”

There’s about five full seconds where I just stare at him. He’s clean shaven, wearing an open short-sleeved button-up with a black tee underneath. And his jeans aren’t holey today. It’s weird because I sort of wish they were.

His laptop is open, a flash drive sticking in the USB port, and his legs are kicked up on the glass table.

He’s giving me this sort of smile that looks like he’s begging me to not get angry.

He’s also chewing gum. My brow crinkles because he never seemed like the gum type.

“Do I have something hanging out of my nose?” he asks with a smirk.

“When did you start chewing gum?”

His shoulders lift a little. “Figured it was a healthier way to use my mouth than lighting up.”

My breathing has gone funky. “You quit smoking?”

He nods like it’s no big deal, and his eyes go to his laptop. I stare at him for way too long to be considered normal, but I don’t care. I need to get a grip so I can do my job with him around. Also have to stop thinking about how he’ll smell less like smoke and more like spearmint when I sit next to him.

When I find the use of my limbs, I pull my bag off my shoulder and set it in a chair. I smack his shoe, pushing slightly so he gets his damn feet off that beautiful table he seems so determined to destroy.

“This is a freaking office, Nate. Stop ruining the décor with your lack of professionalism.”

His face relaxes at the tease in my voice, and his sort of smile turns into his easy going smirk. “I wasn’t hired for my professionalism.”

“Nepotism at its finest.”

“You weren’t hired for your professionalism either, you know.”

“Oh?” I arch an eyebrow and settle in the seat next to him. He still hasn’t put his legs down and I give his thigh a giant poke until he does. I would’ve used my whole hand, but too much touching I may start going into a frenzy of over thinking how the hell I’m supposed to respond to him. “Tell me why I was hired then.”

“You’re quick on your feet.” His eyes flick to his computer and I follow, watching him turn one of the engagement photos black and white. “We needed someone who could handle themselves in high stress situations.”

I snort and gawk at him because I am
so
the opposite of that. It had to have been my interview skirt and haircut. Because that interview was one of the highest levels of stress, and I know nothing I said helped me get this job.

He laughs at
the expression I give him, turning his laptop toward me. He pulls up a folder from the Tahoe wedding, and I smile because there’s a big green check next to it that says, “Completed on September 25th.” And then I want to punch myself for thinking that’s super sexy of him. Damn it.

He clicks on one of the photos,
then scrolls through, brows pulled down while his teeth pull at his lip. Now I want to punch
him
, because he’s upping his sexy level every two seconds and I swear he’s doing it on purpose.

“There it is,” he says
, pulling my attention from his cute look of concentration to the computer screen.

It’s me.

I knew he was taking shots while his mom and I prepared the wedding party for their walk down the aisle, but I didn’t notice he was taking them of…
me
.

“You always take pictures of the wrong people?” I tease, but I can’t help but be ten degrees of flattered.

He shrugs. “I always get shots of the planners. They’re a big part of the special day, too.” He smiles, but it’s sort of off. My eyes flick back to the screen so I don’t over think every tiny expression of his face.

“Did you retouch this?” I ask, b
ecause I swear I look thinner, that the green in my eyes has been enhanced. I know I worked an hour on my short hair to get it to stay back in a twisted and professional bun, but there’s a few strands that have fallen into my face, making it look like someone purposely put them there because of the lighting.

Nate shakes his head. “I haven’t had the chance yet.” He clears his throat, shifts, but the laptop is still tilted toward m
e. “This last week and half was…busy.”

“So…this is just…”

“You? Yeah.”

I blink at the screen, trying to remember what the hell was going through my head when it was taken. I always get a teeny bit weepy at weddings, and I know I
felt
like I was running around with my head cut off. But I look like I do this all the time. I look natural. I also look…
happy
. And I don’t even have my phone in front of me.

It’s getting awkwardly quiet, so I sit straight in my chair, and own this thing. “Damn, I look
gor
-geous.”

I meant it to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t laugh like I want him to. He slides the laptop back to face him, saying, “You always look gorgeous, Brooke.”

I should say a joke or something. Laugh it off. Pretend like he’s teasing me or…damn it, something! But it feels too weird because he looks like he means it. I want him to mean it. But he said he needs me to be his friend. How can I do that if he keeps confusing me with all the romantic shit!

Sucking in a breath, I sit straight in my chair and pull out my
iPad, trying to focus on the schedule for the day. But I can’t help but glance at his screen as he absent-mindedly flicks through the rest of the pictures in that folder. There’s a few more of me…adjusting flowers on dresses, standing near the bar and gazing at the chandeliers, straightening the tablecloths. They each look like special moments with the way his mindless clicks linger in between each shot, even though I’m just working.

I wait for a picture of his mom. He said he takes pictures of all the staff, but as I watch the night unfold with each click, the only person he captured outside of the wedding party and guests…was me.

***

“Hey sweetie, it’s the fifth.”

“Hi, Mom.”

I plop down on my couch, scratching Snickers’ ears and letting him push his head into the back of my hand.

“Do you need money? I’ve got the account pulled up here…”

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Snickers hops into my lap, and I take comfort in his cute little warmth. It’s about the only thing right now that is keeping me together.

“I paid rent already, Mom. And the phone bill and the electricity. I’m actually thinking of getting a car.”

“Oh don’t do more than you can handle. Especially if this is temporary.”

“Why do you think it’s only temporary?”

Her voice stutters. “O-oh, I was just saying, sweetheart, that it could be. I mean, your lawyer boyfriend probably won’t want you working all the time, right? And if this job keeps you so busy you can’t even call your parents to check in…”

“I don’t have a lawyer boyfriend.”

She pauses. “Oh no. What happened?”

“I broke things off. It wasn’t fair to drag him around when I…” I let the thought drift, wishing I could tell her that I broke it off because the five dates I went on with Joshua didn’t come close to the bolts of electricity I felt in the five seconds with Nate. I want to tell her how much I think I’m falling for someone who doesn’t want me back, and she’d tell me it’d be okay, so I wouldn’t have to rely on myself to do it.

But that’s not my mom.

“You broke things off? Brooke, maybe you should rethink that. Wedding planning is okay for now, but don’t you want to get married and raise a family…”

She keeps talking, but something inside me snaps, cutting off my ability to hear exactly what she’s saying.

Of course I want that. What does she think I’m doing? Screwing around? No. I’m
trying
. I’m trying so hard it hurts sometimes. My heart starts pumping loud in my ears and even Snickers senses how tense I get and he leaps off my lap right before I cut my mom off.

“Mom,” I try to say with a steady voice, but I don’t pull it off. “Look, I really like my job. It pays well, and I’m pretty good at it. I’m organized, and I’m quick on my feet. I manage in a crisis, and I work well with the wedding party. I know it’s not what you envisioned for me, but I’m happy there. And I’m not dating anyone exclusively right now, but I do go out. I’m looking for Mr. Right. But I want him to be Mr. Right for me.”

She’s silent, and I’m not surprised. I normally don’t defend my success in life because I’ve never felt successful. But as I say it out loud, yeah, I may be single, living with my cat and just got rejected by a super hot photographer who I’m still recovering from, but I’m pretty damn proud of myself. All those things I said, I think they’re true.

“Well, Brooke, I’m happy you’re happy.”

It may not be the four words I wanted to hear, but I’m satisfied with these ones too.

“Thanks.”

We chat a little bit about Dad then hang up. I know it wasn’t that great of a conversation, but I feel a little lighter. That really, maybe I don’t need to hear those words
from her
.

I tap over to my goals and pull up the five that have been sitting there for years.

Hear the words “I’m proud of you”

Sitting up straight, I give Snickers a smile and say out loud, “Brooke, I’m proud of you.” Then I give that sucker a cute little check mark.

***

1:23

My text jingle punctures through my room, and I slap my arm up, grappling for my phone. I knew I should’ve put it on silent, but my head was so buzzed when I got ready for bed, I forgot.

I forgot
.

Ugh, what is happening to me?

I squint as my eyes adjust to the bright light of my cell, and I see Ms. Marks’ face in a circle in the corner of my Galaxy.

Our building’s annual deep carpet cleaning has been rescheduled to this weekend! We’ve got our final meeting with the Greenwood wedding Friday afternoon
. I’ll need you to reschedule for Mon Ami Gabi Friday evening. Sorry this is so late, but we need to get it done ASAP. Friday reservations…you know the drill.

Yes, I know the drill. The last impromptu reservation I had to set up required Nate’s company credit card and a lot of cleavage. It’s too late now to call, but I’d better get access to the bribe money for the morning.

I sit up, cracking my neck, and send a quick text to Nate.

Hey. I need the company credit card to book a quick reservation. Our meeting with the Greenwood’s rescheduled for Friday night.

I move over to my calendar and rearrange the meeting there. Hopefully we can get an eight o’clock. If not, I’ll call another restaurant and hope Ms. Marks is okay with…

My phone dings, and I jump, smacking my nose. I growl as I reach for my glasses and slide them on so I’m not inches away from the screen to see it.

Making a reservation at one in the morning?

Smartass.

1:31. And I didn’t think you’d text back till you woke up.

I did wake up.

Sorry.
But I’m not really sorry.
Do you have the number?

Yeah, I’ll call you in the morning with it. But chill. We still have a few days.

Have you ever tried to get a Friday reservation at Mon Ami Gabi days before? It’s most likely booked, which means I need to pull out the cute and sexy girl with bribery money. I have to prepare for that.

I hope he senses my teasing tone, that I get I’m so completely anal about everything, but that’s who I am and everyone else can deal with it. And I kind of love that he does deal, and makes it feel okay that I am that way.

Can I go with you? I want to witness this action for myself.

Hell no.

Why not?

You’ll take me off my game.

And if it’s a woman taking reservations?

Do not underestimate my powers of persuasion.

Hmm…

Well, that’s vague.
What? Don’t think I can do it?

Bet you lunch tomorrow that you’ll still be looking for a place to eat at noon.

Nate’s been sending his card with me on lunch runs lately anyway, but I don’t want to stop our back and forth. It feels like we’re getting to normal again.

Prepare your bank account, because you will lose that bet.