Miss Match (20 page)

Next, Brooke pulled out the address list, invitations, envelopes, stamps, and calligraphy pens. She dragged everything out to the living room and assembled it on the beige carpet in a line parallel with the television. Maybe she should’ve asked the bridal party to help. At least Antonio was an artist, and could help address the envelopes. She wouldn’t trust most guys with such a task. But even with the two of them, it would take hours to address all the envelopes. She turned on the television and picked a British comedy that Antonio enjoyed, then sat on the floor with her back against the couch and her careful assembly line in front of her.

Brooke glanced at her cell phone—6:02. He was two minutes late. She took a deep breath, trying to relax. She pulled the address list toward her and began addressing envelopes.

At 6:10, Brooke called him. No answer. At 6:17 she tried again. At 6:32 her phone rang.
Don’t be upset. Don’t make this into a fight.
“Hello,” Brooke said, proud of herself for sounding cheerful.

“
Mia dolcezza.
I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. The muse struck, and I lost track of time.”

Brooke closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “No problem. Are you on your way over now?”
You’d better be on your way.

“No, I’m at the loft, covered in oil paints from head to toe. Brooke, this landscape is a masterpiece. The gallery will adore it. I hate to stop working when the inspiration is so strong. Can we do the invitations a different night?”

Don’t get mad, don’t throw a fit.
“Of course.” He was trying to financially support them, after all. And he was nervous about making the gallery in Italy happy.

“You’re perfect,
mia bella
. I promise we’ll do it soon. Maybe this weekend, after I get back from San Diego.”

“No problem. I’ve already started, but you can help me finish up later.” Brooke paused. “Is someone laughing?”

“It’s my iPod. I should’ve turned down the
musica
before calling. It’s why I didn’t hear my phone ring the first two times.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Saturday we’ll finish up. And I’ll stop by to see you before I leave for San Diego tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“I love you, Brooke.”

“I love you, too.” But as she hung up the phone, her feelings were leaning much more toward anger than love. She knew when she started dating an artist that it would be like this sometimes. His job wasn’t nine to five. He kept odd hours, and worked whenever the mood struck. And she understood that. Really, she did.

But why did it have to interfere with their wedding?

And if the muse strikes on our wedding day, will he show up late to the ceremony?
She pushed the thought away. Of course he wouldn’t. Even Antonio wasn’t that irresponsible. Besides, he was as excited to get married as she was.

Brooke picked up the calligraphy pen. She really should keep addressing the invitations. She’d taken the time to pull everything out, and besides, the likelihood of Antonio flaking a second time was high. But if she was doing this solo, she was watching something she liked. She flipped through the channels and settled on a modeling competition show she and Luke loved. He always critiqued the models’ clothing in a British accent that made her giggle hysterically.

Her phone rang, and she knew without looking at the caller ID that it was Luke. He had an uncanny ability to know when she was thinking about him. Brooke answered the phone with a smile. “I’m watching
Model at the Top
,” she said.

His laugh was deep and rich and sent her spine tingling. “Please let me come over and watch it with you. I had a run-in with Candi and I’m in a sucky mood.”

“Okay, that needs details.”

“Not many to give. She’s playing her usual mind games. At first I thought Kendall was behind it, but now I’m pretty sure it’s just her.”

“Do you think she was hoping the press would get a photo?”

“No. That’d be hard to explain to her boyfriend. Now can I come over or what?”

That little tramp.
“Only if you bring donuts and hot chocolate.”

“Have you eaten anything real for dinner?”

“Donuts are
a real dinner.” She shifted, and her knee landed on the corner of the invitation box. She looked down at the save the dates, suddenly remembering what she was doing. “Oh.”

“You already have plans.”

“Well, Antonio and I were supposed to address save the dates.”

Silence. “Maybe another night. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Antonio couldn’t come. He just bailed.” She bit her lip, debating what to do next. She could put the invitations away and do them another night. But she really should send them out in the next week or two. “You could help me.”

“I am
your man of honor.”

Brooke laughed, relieved he wasn’t going to be weird about this. “True.”

“I’m coming right over. Be there in ten.”

Eight minutes later, a knock came at her door. Brooke grinned, pushing herself to her feet and going to answer it. Luke wore an old pair of jeans that were worn in all the right places and a T-shirt she recognized from college. “That was quick,” Brooke said. “Where are my donuts and hot chocolate?”

“I sent the driver to get them. He’ll be back soon.” Luke came inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Sometimes being rich has its benefits,” Brooke teased.

Luke smirked. “I guess you could say that. Where’s Zoey?”

“Another date with a guy who’s totally wrong for her. I think she and Mitch like each other, but neither seems willing to do anything about it.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “High-strung Mitch and chaotic Zoey?”

“I bet if I put them in the database, they’d be a match.”

Luke took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the couch. “I don’t see it. So it’s just you and me tonight then, eh?”

“And an all-night marathon of
Model at the Top
.”

“I should’ve brought the score cards.” Luke sat down on the floor, motioning to the piles of invitation materials. “So what am I doing?”

“You’re stuffing the envelopes while I address them. I’ll show you.”

“There’s a wrong way to put things in an envelope?”

“There is when it’s for a wedding.” Brooke grabbed a save the date and showed him which direction to put it in the envelope. “Then you put this envelope into this envelope—”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re sending your save the dates in two envelopes?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. That’s how it’s done.”

“Why?”

“So that when the outer envelope gets dirty in the mail, the inner one still looks nice.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Why would I joke about this?”

Luke sighed. “Good thing
Model at the Top
is on. This is going to be a long night.”

“You’re not the one addressing five hundred invitations.”

The driver delivered the donuts and hot chocolate, and they enjoyed their treat before getting to work. Luke stuffed envelopes and offered unsolicited commentary on the show while Brooke wrote addresses on envelopes. She couldn’t help the glow in her heart as she listened to Luke talk. This was the most he had sounded like the old Luke in months.

“So what’s the deal with Antonio being AWOL anyway?” Luke asked during a commercial break. He held up a save the date. “Seems like the kind of thing the groom should help with.”

Brooke sighed, setting down her calligraphy pen and stretching out her fingers. “His muse hit, so he’s home painting.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Painting
is
his job. He’s really stressed about this new contract with the gallery in Italy. He wants the first landscape he sends them to be absolutely perfect.”

“You’d think he’d want his wedding to be perfect.”

“I didn’t think men generally cared about that sort of thing.”

“Perfect wedding equals happy bride. Happy bride equals happy groom.”

“You speak wisdom.” Brooke bowed her head dramatically and Luke snorted, stuffing another envelope. She should get back to addressing, but her fingers were seriously cramping and the thought of holding that calligraphy pen had them screaming in protest.

“Are you happy, Brooke?” Luke asked.

She stopped stretching her fingers. “Why would you ask that?”

He dropped the filled envelope, scrubbing a hand over his face. “My feelings about Antonio aren’t exactly a secret.”

Brooke pushed the filled invitations aside and scooted closer to Luke. “Just give him a chance. You both are so important to me.” She swallowed hard. “Can’t you at least try
to get along?”

“He’s such a douche.”

“Lu-uke.” She drew the word out into two syllables.

He picked up one of the save the dates, holding it out to her. “This is really what you see when you picture your future?”

Brooke took the save the date, really studying it for Luke’s sake. He would know if she brushed off the question. The photo was black and white and had been taken in downtown LA. Brooke and Antonio both stood in front of a graffiti covered wall, holding hands with solemn expressions on their faces. The filter the photographer used made the whole thing look grainy, and it was hard to make out facial features in the photo. They could be any couple. The only pop of color was their names and the date and location of the wedding. The save the date was much more artistic than what Brooke would’ve chosen, but Antonio had a photographer friend who’d given them a great discount on the photos and design so she hadn’t said anything.

Brooke put the photo back. “Antonio loves me. He’s always there for me.”

Luke drew back, a mask covering his face. “You mean like he was here for you tonight?”

“That’s not fair.”

“
I’m
here for you, Brooke.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she jumped to her feet. “Don’t.”

He stood, grabbing her arm. “
I
love you.”

She shrugged his hand off. “Stop it.”

“I know I haven’t exactly been a model citizen in the past. But I’m changing. I’m trying to deserve you. You don’t have to question me.”

“You’re breaking like every single rule I’ve ever created.” She ran her fingers through her hair. Her hands felt clammy and cold.

“There isn’t a rule that forbids me from declaring my love. And if there was, I’d break it anyway.”

“You can’t do this, Luke. I’m getting married. To Antonio.”

Luke stepped close again. She could smell his laundry detergent and cologne, and it made her dizzy. “Give us a chance.”

“We’ll never work.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’ve never had a serious relationship.” Brooke paced back and forth, waving her hands as she spoke.

“An eight year friendship is pretty serious.”

“Because if we tried, and things didn’t work out, our friendship would be ruined. And I can’t live with that.”

He took a step toward her. “It would work out. And you don’t think marrying Antonio will change our friendship?”

“Sometimes you’re too much like my dad. Flitting from woman to woman, not really caring if their feelings get hurt.”

“That’s not fair. I might not have serious relationships, but I haven’t abandoned three separate wives and four children either.”

“You and I aren’t compatible in that way. Not like me and Antonio.”

Luke snorted. “I dare you to run our compatibility in Toujour’s database. I bet we’d blow your and Antonio’s seventy-one percent out of the water.”

Brooke held up her hands as though to ward him off, still pacing. “It doesn’t matter. I’m marrying Antonio. I love him. That alone is reason enough why we wouldn’t work.”

Luke shook his head. “No good. You love me too.” He stepped in her path, forcing her to stop pacing. He took her face in his hands and gently caressed it. “What are you afraid of?”

Brooke closed her eyes and her breath hitched. She wrenched herself from him. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just know we wouldn’t last. Where is all this coming from?” Her hands shook. “You haven’t mentioned dating since high school.”

“Only because every time I got up the courage, you started dating someone else. You turned me down pretty hard in eleventh grade and made it abundantly clear multiple times we were just friends. But that’s not enough for me anymore.”

Brooke’s breath quickened. For eight years he’d felt this way. And he’d waited until now to say something?

“He’s all wrong for you, Brooklyn, and you know it. But us . . .” He leaned down, his lips hovering above hers.

Her hand struck his cheek before she even knew what she was doing. He drew back, stunned. His hand went to his cheek. Brooke’s chest heaved as tears obscured her vision.