Page 137 of Help Me Remember
“I’m not going rogue, Maxwell. Just do your job, and I’ll let you know if we uncover anything.”
He shakes his head. “Right. I’m going to work. Spencer, congratulations on somehow convincing one of the most wonderful women we know that you’re worth a damn. Brielle, I wish you so much luck because you’re with one stubborn ass.”
Brie attempts to smile, but there’s a hesitation there. “You okay?” I ask.
“I am.” She turns to Emmett, the smile growing and becoming more authentic. “He may be an ass, but I love him regardless.”
He shakes Holden’s hand, but when he reaches for the doorknob, I stop him. “Hey, Emmett.”
“Yeah?”
“You remember the agreement?” I ask.
“No . . .”
Holden chuckles. “Best man . . .”
When we were eighteen, we joked about Isaac getting married. He was already talking about it with Addison. It was crazy, but we made a pact about who would be the best man at each wedding. I was Isaac’s best man. Isaac was Holden’s. Holden will be Emmett’s, and Emmett is mine. The reason Emmett chose me was because he never wanted the honor and figured I’d never get married.
“Fuck!” Emmett says as he turns. “Come on . . .”
“You agreed.”
“Have Holden do it! He’ll be better.”
“Nah, you’re it, and I want one hell of a bachelor party.”
He groans and then opens the door. “You get that after I make this right.”
* * *
Our call with Addison was great. She already knew since I had to tell her, but she was beyond happy as she and Brielle cried through it.
Women.
Now we’re shopping in Portland, and I’m getting updates from Quinn. It seems he’s in the area as well and wants us to be on alert. He said he followed a trail that puts Bill possibly in Portland.
Little to no surprise, I am ready to get the fuck out of here.
I want her safe in her apartment, not walking around the streets where anything can happen.
“I like this store,” she says, pointing to a boutique on the corner.
I also don’t like that we are about a block away from—
“Brielle?”
Henry.
“Hey, Henry. I . . . how are you?” she asks, moving toward him.
“I’m great. I just came over to get some coffee, and I thought it was you.” He turns to me. “Spencer, it’s great seeing you.”
The feeling is not mutual. “Hi, Henry.”
“What are you doing in Portland?” he asks.
“Shopping. Brielle needs a dress for a party we’re going to. It’s sort of going to be a big announcement for us.”
