Читать книгу Be My Forever Bride - Martha Kennerson - Страница 15

Chapter 4

The corners of Brice’s mouth turned up. He always loved her quick wit and the way Brooke’s cheeks turned pink whenever she said something she wished she hadn’t. Brooke had removed her jacket, her arms exposed, and she stood in her bare feet. Brice’s eyes took their fill. Her naturally slim build was unusually thin, but he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Funny. No, her choice of restaurant was not really my taste.”

Brooke shrugged. “That’s what you get for dating a toddler.”

Brice leaned into the door frame. “Amy’s no toddler.”

Brooke turned her back to him, saying, “I bet.”

“Excuse me.”

Brooke slid her feet back into her shoes, walked around the table and started gathering up her things. “It’s none of my business, and who am I to question who you choose to spend your personal time with?”

“No, it’s not. You lost that right the night you left.”

Brooke raised her head and met his stormy gaze. “You’re right, my apologies.”

Brice pushed off the door frame and walked into the office. “No problem—”

“I just don’t see what you two could possibly have in common.”

“You’d be surprised.” Brice didn’t want to continue this line of questioning. His exaggeration was making him uncomfortable. It was time to change the subject. “So how was your first day back? I trust you have everything you need.”

“I do.” Their eyes collided at the familiar phrase they’d recited not so long ago. “I mean, everyone’s been very helpful.”

“So we should meet our established three-month timeframe?” he questioned, trying to keep his business persona intact when his traitorous body was responding to Brooke on a more personal level.

“Barring any surprises, yes, we should,” she reassured him confidently.

“Good. Have you eaten yet? There’s no reason we can’t be civil.”

“Actually—” Brooke’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

Brice saw a face he’d hoped he would never have to see again pop up on Brooke’s phone.

“You here?” Brooke answered.

“Yes,” Peter replied. “I didn’t want to give you a chance to leave without me.”

Brooke laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ll be right down.” She ended the call and returned the phone to her purse.

“Sounds like you have other plans.” Brice pressed his lips together, preventing himself from asking questions he didn’t really want the answers to.

Brooke nodded. “But thanks for the offer... Rain check?”

“Sure.” Brice placed both hands in his pocket as he tried to keep a straight face, attempting to hide the disappointment that he wanted to kick himself for even feeling. “I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s really not necessary, but thank you.” Brooke reached for her jacket, only Brice beat her to it. He held it out and Brooke slipped both arms through each sleeve. Brice’s hands briefly rested on the small of her back as his senses were attacked by the scent of jasmine wafting from Brooke’s hair. Brooke looked over her shoulder, gazed up at him and whispered, “Thank you, Brice,” before stepping away.

Brice knew she was thanking him for more than helping with her coat. They’d rarely had disagreements, but when they did it usually ended quickly. Her kind heart just wouldn’t let things fester, which was another reason why he’d found her actions so unbelievable. Citing that their marriage was an impulse, she’d requested it be annulled, a request he flatly refused. Brooke's desire to keep his name was the only leverage he had to slow things down so he could try and find out what was really going on between them.

“You’re welcome.”

They walked out of the office and made their way to the elevator where they descended in silence. They exited the elevator and walked through the nearly empty lobby. Brice eyed the tall olive-skinned man leaning against a black town car with his arms crossed.

“Your ride?” Brice asked, setting his mouth in a tight line.

“Yes.”

Brice stopped short of the exit. “Have a good evening.”

“You too,” Brooke replied as she walked out the door.

The last thing Brice wanted was to stand there and watch as his rival greeted Brooke with an extended hand and helped her into his car. But Brice’s feet were glued to that spot. He knew he should walk away but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how to get his feet to work.

* * *

After assisting Brooke into her seat, Peter walked around to the other side of the car and slid behind the wheel. “Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, and I really wish everyone would stop asking me that question,” Brooke snapped back, staring out the car window.

Peter pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to Brooke’s hotel in silence. He parked in front and cut the engine. Peter shifted his body toward Brooke. “You ready to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Brooke frowned.

“Whatever it is that’s got you so upset.”

“I thought you were my neurologist, not my therapist,” she replied, collapsing her hands together in her lap.

“Right now, I’m prepared to be both.”

Brooke cleared her throat. “It was just a lot harder than I expected. Seeing Brice again, I mean.”

“Have you given any more thought to telling him the truth?”

“All the time, but the end result is always the same. Can we go upstairs and get this over with, Doctor?”

Brooke walked through the lobby of the hotel with Peter at her side. When she heard her name being called, Brooke turned toward the sound.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Kingsley,” the concierge called as he approached, holding a large manila envelope.

“Yes?” she replied.

“This was delivered this afternoon. I was instructed to hand it to you personally.”

Brooke’s heart sank as she guessed it held her copy of the divorce agreement. “Thank you,” she whispered, accepting the package. “Let me...” Brooke fumbled with her purse as tears burnt the back of her eyes. Her whole body went numb and it had nothing to do with her multiple sclerosis.

Brooke’s mind jumped back in time to the day she’d attended her sister-in-law China’s baby shower. It was the day that changed the course of her life. China looked especially beautiful; she was glowing like the moon on a clear night and if Brooke could have disappeared, she would have. She had just received her MS diagnosis and had been informed that pregnancy for her might not be possible, depending on her therapy. Her doctors explained that she could have a small window should she want to try and have a baby of her own, but they needed to determine her therapy as soon as possible. Brooke’s difficult childhood and pessimistic attitude toward having her own happily ever after only allowed her to believe the worst.

After receiving such devastating news, Brooke had been in no mood to celebrate but she had to show her support for China and Alexander. After all, they were her family now. Brooke smiled through the games and forced down delicious food and champagne. She held back tears when everyone asked when she and Brice were going to start having babies. It was only after people started taking bets on when that might happen that she found a reason to excuse herself.

It was that day—along with a not-so-veiled threat to expose her past to her new family—that Brooke had decided to leave Brice. She thought he deserved someone better than her. In her mind, her diagnosis just confirmed what she’d always known: She’d never be truly happy. Brooke hadn’t had a happy childhood, so how could she have a happy adult life?

“I got it.” Peter opened his leather bag, pulled out his wallet and handed the concierge a generous tip. Brooke stood, staring down at the envelope. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Peter took Brooke by the elbow and led her to the elevator. She held the envelope to her chest as tears welled in her eyes. They rode up in silence, exited the elevator and walked the short distance to her door. Brooke crossed the threshold, wandered into the living room and gingerly sat on the sofa.

Peter went into the kitchen, removed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap and came back into the main room, handing the bottle to Brooke. “Drink.”

Brooke took several sips. “Thanks.” She set the envelope on the coffee table.

“Do you need a minute?”

Brooke took a deep breath and released it slowly. “No, let’s get this exam done.”

Peter removed a penlight and reflex hammer from his bag and placed them on the table. He stood and moved to the middle of the room. “You know the drill.”

Brooke kicked off her shoes, then went and stood in front of Peter. She presented her hands palms down. “No tremors.”

“Good.”

She extended her arms out to her side and brought her right index fingers to her nose. “I feel like I’m taking a sobriety test.”

“You say that every time,” he reminded Brooke. “Left hand, please.”

Brooke complied. “What’s next?”

“You know, walk the line. Heel to toe, please.”

Brooke released a loud moan. “Here goes nothing.” Brooke completed the task, but it took her longer than normal because she was tired and her muscles were reminding her of that fact.

“Not bad. Take a seat,” he instructed.

Brooke returned to the sofa and took several sips from her water bottle. She felt like she’d just run a mile full out. Peter checked her reflexes and responses to light. “Everything looks good,” he announced as he made notes on his tablet.

“I told you when you came to Paris that I was fine and symptom-free.” Peter gave her the side-eye. “Well, mostly symptom-free.”

“We talked about this. You're fortunate that you don't have the more common symptoms of motor problems, cognitive issues, severe pain and sexual dysfunction, to name a few, but that can change over time. While your symptoms aren’t chronic, flare-ups can be triggered by stress. The fatigue, muscle pain, numbness and tingling in your limbs can be hard on your system.”

“I know all of this, Peter.” Brooke reached for her room-service menu.

Peter continued as though she hadn’t said a word. “And while your symptoms will disappear and remain repressed when you remove the triggers, let’s try to avoid them altogether, shall we? Otherwise, you'll keep repeating the cycle.”

Brooke gave Peter a two-fingered salute. “Yes, sir.”

Peter packed his bag. “One more thing. I know you think you’re doing what’s best for your husband, but if I were him, I’d want to know the truth. MS isn’t a death sentence.”

“I know that, Doctor, but it can be a long and difficult journey.” Not to mention having to deal with my colorful past. That's too much to ask of anyone, no matter how much they love you.

“Yes, it can, but it can also be filled with lots of love and even children.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. I’m ordering food. Care for anything?” Brooke picked up the menu and started browsing through it.

“No, thank you, and I think we should,” he said, taking the menu from Brooke. “Having MS shouldn’t stop you from getting pregnant or having a healthy pregnancy. Now, if you were in the middle of a specialized treatment plan, that would be a different story and even then, we’d just suspend the treatments until you delivered. You’re nowhere near that, either.”

Not with my luck. A successful career is about as close as I'm going to get to having a family. “I understand you’re trying to help, but I’ve made my decision. I’m not dragging Brice into this mess of a life I have. He’s better off finding someone without so much baggage,” she declared, reaching for the menu.

“Fine, but don’t you think that’s a decision your husband has a right to make?”

“No! Now if you’re done—”

“Actually—”

“With your role as my medical doctor, I’d like to call it a night. I need to eat and get my rest. Doctor’s orders,” she reminded him, rising from her spot on the sofa.

Peter exhaled loudly. “Fine. I may be your doctor, Brooke, but you’re also my family. I just want you to be happy and it’s obvious you’re not happy about losing the only man you’ve ever loved.”

“I know you do, and I’ll always be grateful to you and your family for taking me in that last year I was in high school. Yours was the only foster home I ever felt safe in.”

“Just think about what I said.”

“Okay. You know, you really need to find a life of your own and stop worrying about mine.”

“So my mother keeps telling me.” He picked up his bag and walked to the door. “See you in a couple of months, unless you need me before then.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Peter.”

Brooke closed the door and suddenly she wasn’t hungry, but she knew she had to put some food in her stomach before she took her medicine. She went to the phone and ordered something light. After placing the request, she went to the bedroom, undressed and took a quick shower. Brooke was standing in the middle of the bathroom, her body wrapped in a large towel, squeezing the excess water from her hair with another, when she heard her cell phone ring. She walked back into the bedroom, picked up her phone on the dresser and looked at the screen. The name read unknown. “Hello.”

“I found you,” a muffled voice replied.

“Who is this?” Brooke asked before the line went dead. “Kids.” Brooke wrapped her hair in the towel, dried herself off and changed into a long nightshirt and shorts. She walked back into the living room and there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“Room service,” a soft voice replied.

Brooke opened the door and stood back as the waitress rolled in a small table. She lifted the lid from the plate and said, “Chicken salad sandwich on a croissant. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She handed Brooke the bill to sign and took her exit. Brooke picked up the plate, sat on the sofa and stared down at the envelope that would change everything. She forced herself to eat half her sandwich until she started to feel anxious, so she placed the plate back on the table and wheeled it outside the door.

Brooke walked out onto the balcony and took a couple of deep breaths. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to contain her tremors. Her heart was racing and no matter how hard she fought, the dam broke and her tears fell. Brooke cried for the end of her marriage, for the fact that—as far as she was concerned and regardless of what the facts might have been—she’d never have children, but most of all, she cried because she knew she’d never stop loving Brice and somehow had to find a way to live with that realization.