Page 99 of Perfect on Paper

In fact, this was my first time seeing Brougham’s father in person. As he walked into the kitchen, I was struck by how little he resembled his son. He had thinning, soft brown hair that might have once been curly, and was stocky where Brougham was naturally slight, with a neck that stood like a solid block, not a curve in sight.

Given the arguments over Mrs. Brougham’s fidelity, I couldn’t help but wonder if the lack of resemblance was a point of contention for the family.

“What’s up, mate?” Mr. Brougham asked. Then he nodded at me with a smile as reserved as Brougham’s usually was. “Hi. Darcy? Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Are we using the duck in the fridge?” Brougham asked.

His dad leaned one hand against the counter. “Not for anything in particular. Yourmotherwas going to cook it last night, until she gotbusy.”

Reading between the lines, that sounded like another argument had gone down last night.

Brougham pushed past the dig at his mom. “Can we use it?”

Mr. Brougham stuck out his lip and made a show of considering it. “Only if you cook it properly and I can have some for dinner.”

Brougham scoffed. “Have I evernotcooked something properly?”

His dad flourished a hand in my direction. “Is that a wise question to ask in front of your lady friend?”

At that, Brougham flushed pink. I cut in to change the subject. “If we can use the duck, we’ll haveplentyto go around for everyone.”

“Go for it,” Mr. Brougham said. “Shout out if you need anything, hey? And don’t forget about the dishes. Just because the drill sergeant isn’t home doesn’t mean you get to slack off.”

“I would never.”

It was interesting watching Brougham interact with his dad. Unlike when he’d run into his mother, his body language remained relaxed, and even though he was very “polite mode: activate,” still, the air of tension that’d surrounded him with his mom just wasn’t here. I could see why he was keen to spend time at home while his mother wasn’t around. His not-mansion didn’t even seem quite as vast and empty tome.

As it turned out, Brougham wasn’t as hopeless in the kitchen as accused—he just had a bad habit of underestimating the cooking time of things. So, while we prepared the duck and chopped the vegetables, I explained and demonstrated the purposes of a kitchen thermometer to a fascinated Brougham. It took us longer than I’d initially hoped to get everything in the oven roasting, so we split tasks, with Brougham in charge of printing the menus and setting up the projector, and me looking after decorations.

Brougham’s backyard patio didn’t need much help to become a romantic paradise. Immediately outside the back doors was a huge patio area with masonry stone flooring, decorated with potted plants in stone planters, pastel flowers bordering the edges, and creeping vines spilling down the walls. A four-person outdoor dining setup, shaded by a brown umbrella, stood dead center, overlooking the Broughams’ enormous pool. The edges of the patio formed a semicircle against the house, and descended down to the garden in several wide steps, all illuminated by in-ground, warm yellow lights.

I got to work unraveling and tacking up string lights around the columns supporting the patio veranda and in some of the bushes and trees dotting the garden. A lit candle went in the center of the table, and then Brougham gave me a hand hiding the extension cords so they didn’t ruin the vibe. We’djustfinished linking my Spotify to Brougham’s portable speaker when Ray walked out, having been apparently let in by Mr. Brougham.

“Wow,” she said, spinning around to take in the garden. She was dressed up, wearing a pair of black, skin-tight leather pants paired with a low-cut turquoise shirt and whiteheels. It seemed Brougham had effectively communicated tonight’s theme of fancy-slash-sexy. His words, not mine.

Luckily for us, Ray was 100 percent invested in anything that could help her gain Brooke’s forgiveness, and she’d jumped at the chance to come tonight when Brougham messaged her (it had to be Brougham because she’d, understandably, blocked me on everything shecouldblock me on, even if we were in a sort-of truce).

“When does Brooke get here?” Ray asked, brushing her fingertips along the surface of the table.

“Ainsley should bring her by in the next few minutes,” I said.

“I’m really relieved she agreed to come.”

Brougham and I exchanged a glance. “Well,” I said. “She doesn’t… exactly know this is going on. She thinks she’s agreed to come see me on my birthday as a surprise.”

“Oh.” Ray’s face clouded. “Happy birthday. But… she’s gonna leave.”

“I don’t think she will,” I said. “She’s been miserable since—” I broke them up “—you guys broke up. I think she just needs a chance to hear you out.”

“Speaking of,” Brougham said, looking over his shoulder toward the house.

He was right. I could make out faraway voices. I gave Ray a thumbs-up, and followed Brougham inside.

Brooke stood with Ainsley in the sprawling hallway, looking equal amounts exasperated and bewildered. “Happy birthday?” she said when we entered. “I, um… I’ve never skipped one of your birthdays. It felt weird.”

“A lot of things have felt weird,” I agreed. “I’m really glad you came.”

---