Page 17 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Thanks, but—”

“She’s nothing like Lanie, not that Lanie was bad, but Beth is more studious. Bookish. She’s kind of a wallflower, though. Shy, but I think y’all would get on well.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m not interested in dating right now.” Not women, at least, but I kept that distinction to myself. “I’m finding my bearings. I’m not quite there yet.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she said, but knowing Kris, this wouldn’t be the last time she’d try to set me up with someone. “Oh, I almost forgot. Anders asked that you check in before you leave.”

“Sure… Anything I should know before I go in?” I asked.

“He’s in a mood.”

“Great.” I stepped out into the hall and stared down at his closed office door. “When you say mood…”

“Oh, you know, the usual…” She patted me on the shoulder. “The world just won’t spin fast enough for that man.” I didn’t necessarily agree with her assessment. Anders was usually an even-keel kind of guy, if he was pissed off about something it had to be bad. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thanks,” I said, and she snorted at my sarcasm as I knocked on his door.

“Come on in.”

Anders was behind his desk, his blond hair disheveled, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Photos and what looked like color swatches were strewn across his desk.

“Uh… what’s happening in here?” I asked and couldn’t help my small smile when he grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

This was a man who had all of his shit in order. Seeing him all over the place was kind of amusing.

“I’m glad you find this funny, Van.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender and trying like hell to hold back my laughter. “What’s going on?”

“My mother… she’s driving me crazy with all of this.” He waved both of his hands dramatically and slumped backward in his chair. “She wants me to get a wedding planner.”

“Oh God.”

“I know.” He exhaled a noisy breath. “Ethan wants to get married on the bank of a river, not at some fucking bullshit hotel, with a color theme and dinner menu.”

The f-bomb was enough evidence he’d started to spiral, the man never swore at work.

“Have you talked to her?” He immediately glared at me. “Okay…” I said, dragging the word out. “Apparently, that was a dumb question.” I approached his desk slowly, taking in all the pictures of flower arrangements and color palettes. I picked up a square piece of fabric, the shade somewhere between pink and red.

“Watermelon,” he said. “Which I didn’t even know was a fucking color.”

“Two f-bombs in five minutes, I may have to call your mom and tell her she’s ruined the only boss I ever loved.”

His head tipped back as he laughed. “By all means, I won’t stop you.”

“You want my advice…”

“Absolutely.”

“Get married however and whenever you want. This is for you and Ethan, no one else. She’ll understand.”

“That’s what Ethan said. You’re both right… I only have to figure out a way to let her down easy.”

“You’re a literary agent, crushing unreasonable expectations is what you do.”

“You’re right,” he said again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have exploded on you like that, this isn’t your problem.”

“Anders, we’re friends… I’m here for all the groomzilla meltdowns you can throw at me.”

---