Page 38 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

He raises an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Nothing we can't handle." I drain the last of my whiskey. "Thanks for the drink."

"Anytime." Chase glances at Brooke again, then back to me. "Word of advice? Don't make her work too hard for forgiveness, whatever she did. Pride's a cold bedfellow."

With that cryptic remark, he moves away, joining a group of Taylor's friends near the dance floor. I remain at the bar, turning his words over in my mind. Is that what I'm doing—making Brooke work for forgiveness? Or am I simply protecting myself from another heartbreak?

Before I can answer my own question, Robert appears at my side. "Time for the father-daughter dance," he says, straightening his tie nervously. "Wish me luck. Taylor picked some modern song I've never heard of."

I smile, genuinely fond of the man who once might have been my father-in-law. "You'll do fine. Just don't try any fancy moves."

He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder before heading toward the center of the room where Taylor waits. As the music starts—something soft and contemporary—I watch father and daughter sway together, the love between them evident in every movement.

My gaze drifts inevitably to Brooke, standing at the edge of the dance floor. She's watching her father and sister with a small smile, but there's something wistful in her expression that tugs at me. When she looks up and finds me watching her, she doesn't look away. Instead, she holds my gaze across the crowded room, something like determination settling over her features.

A moment later, she's moving toward me, weaving between guests with purposeful strides. My heart rate picks up, a Pavlovian response to her approach that I can't seem to control even after all this time.

"Hey," she says, stopping in front of me.

"Hey yourself." I keep my tone neutral, waiting to see what she wants.

She gestures to where Chase is now laughing with James's cousins. "You two seemed pretty deep in conversation."

"Just getting to know each other," I shrug. "He's not so bad once you get past the perfect hair and white teeth."

A small frown creases her brow. "What did you talk about?"

"Work. Life. The usual." I study her, noting the tension in her shoulders, the slight flush in her cheeks. "Why? Worried he's telling me your high school secrets?"

"No," she says too quickly. "I just…I was surprised to see you talking to him. Given how you felt about him flirting with me."

"Water under the bridge," I repeat my earlier words to Chase. "Besides, he backed off once he realized how serious we are."

I emphasize the word "serious," watching her reaction carefully. She blinks, her gaze dropping briefly before returning to mine with renewed intensity.

"About that," she starts, then hesitates. "Dean, I think we need to talk. About last night. About us."

It's what I've been waiting for—an opening, an indication she's ready to have a real conversation about what's happening between us. But after the emotional whiplash of the past few days, I'm wary of hoping too much, too soon.

"Now?" I ask, glancing around at the reception in full swing. "In the middle of your sister's wedding?"

"Later," she amends. "After the reception. Just…don't disappear on me, okay?"

There's vulnerability in her request, a hint of the fear that's been driving her away from me. It softens something in my chest that I've been holding rigid since her rejection.

"I'm not going anywhere, Brooke." I reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, allowing myself this small touch. "Not until we've said everything that needs saying."

Relief flashes across her face, followed by something warmer, more hopeful. But before she can respond, Taylor's voice calls her name from across the room.

"Maid of honor duties call," Brooke says with a small smile. "Save me a dance?"

"Always," I promise, the word carrying more weight than she probably realizes.

As she hurries back to her sister, I feel something shift inside me—a loosening of the guard I've maintained all day. Linda was right. Brooke is trying, in her own cautious way, to bridge the gap between us. Meeting her halfway doesn't mean laying myself bare again, but it does mean being open to the possibility that she's finally ready to stop running.

The rest of the reception passes in a blur of speeches, dances, and cake cutting. I fulfill my groomsman obligations, chat with Brooke's relatives, even find myself in another surprisingly enjoyable conversation with Chase and some of James's friends.

But throughout it all, I'm aware of Brooke's gaze finding me across the room, a silent promise of the conversation to come. When our eyes meet, there's none of the guarded distance from earlier—only a quiet intensity that makes my pulse quicken despite my best efforts at caution.

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