Page 95 of Brooke
Sliding on black thigh-high stockings made her feel powerful, as did her three-inch spiky-heeled Jimmy Choos. Misting herself with Chanel No. 5, she put on her lucky earrings and gave herself a pep talk.
You know who you are. You know what you want. Dust yourself off and go kick butt Brooke Adams style.
If the words sounded forced in her head, she did her best to ignore that. Thrusting her chin up, she power walked to her phone, turning it on at last. Her avoidance was over.
There was a text from Axel, she noted, and her entire rib cage seemed to collapse as she opened it and read.
Good morning, Brooke. I had hoped we could speak today and work out the miscommunication last night, but I am deeply uncertain about that now. I have received three separate phone calls from people at the party last night who wanted to talk to me about my apparent expansion plans, noting you had talked to them at the party. When I’d expressly told you not to…
“Oh shit,” she said, pressing the phone to her forehead.
Fine, she could own her own part in how his morning had gone. Her cover story had unwittingly landed her in a vat of boiling oil.
Staring at the phone, she tried to think of what to text back.I’m sorry about the calls. My cover story about why you were with me and then why you had to leave blew up in my face.
She knew it wasn’t enough. Not after what they’d shared. He would only accuse her of being secretive about their relationship, and then they’d be back to square one.
Because she still didn’t believe she was wrong to beconcerned. The leering looks in people’s eyes from last night still chilled her skin, the whispered questions between them setting her teeth on edge while breaking her heart.
She’d brought it all on herself, bringing him to the stupid party in the first place. Tired of whipping herself, she forced herself to lift her phone to keep reading.
I have been trying to find a reason you might ignore my wishes, but I am having trouble doing so. I find I need time away to settle myself. I am sorry to miss Nanine’s reopening tonight. Please send my regards. I will return on Monday, and we will hopefully figure out a way to work together on the project at hand, if not sort out how the love and respect we had for each other seems to have shattered so quickly.
She read the last phrase again, her eyes burning with pain and rage. The gravity of the situation settled over her, making her feel nauseated before she leaned into anger.
One: He’d PROMISED he wouldn’t let anything that happened with them interfere with the project.
Two: He wasn’t treating her feelings seriously. People at the partyhadstarted talking about her like she was a scheming ho. She knew it!
Three: He was only thinking about himself here, and if he thought about it for one second, he would know she hadn’t intended for him to think she wasn’t respecting his wishes. Dammit, he should know that.
God, she was spewing blame his way. What about her?
She should have thought things out more.
She should have done better.
She should have…pushed him away before he could hurt her like this.
Throwing her phone onto the bed, she wrapped her arms protectively around herself, telling her heart to throw awaythose stupid matches it had started firing up when he’d arrived and to get real.
Pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples, she told herself she had to face facts. Everything might be screwed up. Their house remodel. Her five-year plan. Her love affair with a man she’d started believing might be her forever. God, she’d even started learning Norwegian!
When was she going to learn?
She wanted to flop back on the bed, but she stomped her foot instead. What was she going to tell her roommates? She was living her worst fear—that she and Axel would get together and then break up, during the remodeling of their home.
Her eyelids twitched with the force she exerted to keep the tears at bay. “I amnotcrying over him.”
If she did, she’d fall totally to the bottom of that ditch waiting for her. Not today. Not again.
Today was Nanine’s reopening, the day they’d all had circled on their calendars, the day when the phoenix would rise from the ashes. They’d all worked for this moment. She would have to put on a brave face again—like she had last night. Make excuses for him again, dammit.
And she had to do it in a way that wouldn’t tip anyone off to her problems. Because she was not a me-centered diva who was going to spew her shit on the people she cared about and ruin a huge day for her friends.
Tomorrow she could figure out who to talk to about this predicament. Dean? Kyle? She made a strangled sound and picked up her day planner. Shouldn’t she be able to figure this out? She was Brooke Adams, dammit! But when she went to her Notes section to sketch out a management strategy for the situation, she couldn’t. Her head was fuzzy. She couldn’t see anything clearly.
She eyed the time on the antique clock on her nightstand.Eight thirty. Well, she’d decided to forgo yoga today, wanting to be available.
