Be My Forever Bride. Martha Kennerson
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.
Brice circled and jabbed at the punching bag he had placed in the man cave he established in the lower level of the three-story house in the Houston Museum District he’d bought Brooke as a wedding present. It was a lovely starter home in the perfect location. He just recently turned the open concept lower level into the perfect getaway spot for a much-needed escape. Every time he walked upstairs, it was like the ghost of Christmas past, assaulting him with memories of the brief time he’d had there with Brooke.
He punched and kicked the freestanding bag until his arms, shoulders and legs screamed for surrender. Brice wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel as he walked to the small kitchenette and pulled out a large bottle from the refrigerator. He twisted off the cap and was gulping down water when he heard a knock on his door. What now?
“Who is it?” he called out harshly, not in the mood for visitors.
“It’s me, Brice.”
“Alexander?”
“Yeah, open up.”
Brice moved past the large sectional sofa sitting in front of two medium-size ottomans that doubled as coffee tables and a fifty-inch screen television mounted to the wall as he made his way to the door. “What’s up, A?” he asked, stepping aside, allowing his brother to enter.
“What’s up with you?” Alexander asked.
When Alexander walked through the door, still wearing the same suit he’d had on at the office, Brice knew this wasn’t a social call; something was definitely wrong. And if that wasn’t enough, the twitching muscles in his brother’s jaw certainly did.
“I’m good,” Brice lied. “Want a beer?”
“No, thanks. Look, Brice, I can only imagine how hard this must be...working with Brooke, I mean.”
“I know what you mean, man, and it’s fine.” He moved to his sofa and took a seat.
“You sure? Because we have a lot riding on making sure we’re cool with the IRS and Brooke is the one person that can ensure that happens. Her IRS experience and history with our company aside, she's family.”
“I’m sure. Damn, you sound more and more like Mother every day.”
“Well, in this instance, she’s right,” he stated.
“I guess. KJ will be on in a few—want to stay and watch the game?”
“Not this time. I’ll catch it at home, but first I have to pick up dinner and ice cream for China.”
Brice smirked. “Lucky you.”
“That I am,” Alexander acknowledged, taking a seat next to his brother. “So, today was good?”
Brice saw the doubtful look on his brother’s face. “Yes, it was. Brooke even signed the divorce agreement. I offered to take her to dinner but she had other plans...with another man.”
“Ouch...”
“But in fairness I did make it seem like I was seeing Amy, so I guess we’re even...kind of, anyway.”
Alexander’s eyebrows came to attention. “Amy, your research assistant?” Brice nodded. “And why would you do that?”
“Because I’m an idiot.” Brice stood, walked to his refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He popped off the cap and took one long pull. Brice stood with his back to his brother. “I didn’t know just how much I missed her until I saw her again, but I can’t seem to get past my anger.”
Alexander rose and turned toward Brice. “Look at me, man.” Brice’s shoulders dropped and he turned and met his brother’s inquisitive gaze. “Look, if you want another shot with Brooke, you should just go for it. Remember the advice you gave me about China?”
“Yeah, but that was different.” He took another pull from his bottle.
“How so?”
“You two have always had something special. It just took several years before you figured out what it was,” Brice explained.
“You don’t think what you and Brooke had was special?”
“I thought so...”
“Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but I wouldn’t be so quick to walk away if there’s even the slightest chance she’s your One.”
“It’s not just up to me, A. Besides, she’s already moved on.”
“You sure about that?”
“She left me, remember?” Brice finished off his beer, tossed the bottle in the recycling bin and flopped back down on the couch.
“I remember. I also remember the BS ‘you two got married too soon...too young’ excuse she gave you too. I can’t believe you’re not digging deeper into that.” His eyebrows snapped together.
Brice reached for the TV remote and placed his feet up on the ottoman. “She signed the papers. It’s done.”
“You’re right. You are an idiot.” Alexander moved toward the door. “Just be sure to keep it professional at the office.”
“I’m over the shock. You know me, A. I’m a Kingsley and we’re all about our business.” Brice turned on the game.
“And that’s what I’m afraid of, little brother. Later.” Alexander walked out the door.
Brice hit the mute button. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift back to a time when he’d tried to watch his brother KJ’s game but Brooke had had something else planned...
* * *
Brice was in the living room sitting on the blue suede extra-long sofa that Brooke had insisted they needed, with his legs stretched out before him. In a gray T-shirt and a pair of long shorts, he was ready to coach his brother’s team to victory from his new sofa. He sat back, watching the TV, when Brooke shouted down from upstairs, “Honey, you ready?”
“For what?” he replied. Hearing no response, he said, “Sure, call in whatever you want to eat, as long as they deliver.”
Brooke laughed. The sound made him happy. Her laugh was one of the many things he loved about his new wife. “Cute,” she said as she descended the steps, stopping halfway down. “What are you doing?”
Hearing the surprise