if you were, but food’s kind of like my thing, and everything that tastes good has gluten—that’s what Heather and I are always saying. You met her at lunch, right?”
Brooke opened her mouth to confirm, but Jessie kept right on talking. “Anyway, you just let me know if you need anything. Since I moved to New York I’ve pretty much done nothing but work and tour the city. And eat, of course.”
Of course.
“Okay, so up here, this is where the offices are,” Jessie said, pausing at the top of the stairs and gesturing around.
The upper level of the Wedding Belles office was mostly just hallways and doors, reminding Brooke of the little house she’d grown up in before her dad had gotten his big break in the Hollywood production world and moved them all to a bigger house in Beverly Hills.
“What’s on the third floor?” she asked as Jessie led her to the end of the hall to the left.
“That’s Alexis’s place.”
“She lives here?”
“Yup. And if you’re wondering how she manages to separate work and personal life, she doesn’t. I just didn’t get how a woman who deals with weddings all day long doesn’t even seem to want a boyfriend, but then I saw her in action and realized the woman doesn’t have time for a hamster, much less a lover.”
“What about you?” Brooke asked. “Boyfriend?”
“Eh, yeah. Dean. It’s new yet, but I’m feeling good about it. He makes good waffles.”
Brooke held a smile. Had to like a woman that could be wooed by waffles.
“What about you?” Jessie glanced over her shoulder as she asked it. “Boyfriend?”
“I’m single,” Brooke said, deliberately keeping her voice light. “Super single.”
Jessie skidded to a halt and turned around to face Brooke, eyes wide, before putting a hand on her arm. “Oh. My. Gawd. I’m such an idiot. I’d totally forgotten about all that crap and the guy you almost married, and . . . you know what? Let’s not even talk about it right now. That’s what we do in my house back home. We don’t talk about things that pull us down. Not at first. Unless of course you want to talk about it.”
Brooke’s head was spinning. “No. I’m good. I mean, the topic’s not off-limits, it’s just—”
Jessie held up a hand. “Say no more. Okay, here we go. You ready to swoon?”
Jessie opened the door to Brooke’s new office, and Brooke made an involuntary happy noise.
It was bigger than she’d expected—heck, it felt nearly as large as Brooke’s entire apartment in Yorkville. A white desk was pushed against the window, and though the view was of bare, leafless trees, Brooke had to imagine that in the spring it would be lovely.
Or even better, what must it be like in autumn? As someone who’d grown up surrounded by palm trees, Brooke had always wondered what it would be like to experience true fall, with all the bright, vibrant colors of the changing leaves and the crisp air . . .
“Right?” Jessie said, correctly reading Brooke’s silence. “Mel had a heck of a time leaving. She loved this office. Loved the job, really. But when you push, like, three kids out of your V in just a couple years, I guess maybe you have more important things to worry about. Kegels and breast pumps and stuff.”
“And raising children,” Brooke said wryly.
Jessie wagged a finger at her. “Right. And that. I like you. I know it’s dorky, but the Belles are kind of like a family, so I’ve been hoping that you’d be awesome. And you totally are. And super pretty.”
Brooke rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious! You look like you’re from LA with that blond hair, blue eyes, and the tan, and I mean that in the best way possible.”
“Well, the tan won’t last long,” Brooke said. “It’s freezing out there.”
“I want to tell you that you’ll get used to it, but you, like, totally won’t. Or at least I haven’t.” The redhead gave her an apologetic smile. “Bet you’re missing California right about now, huh?”
“Not really,” Brooke said, determined to ward off the wave of homesickness that swelled the second Jessie had mentioned her home state. “I mean, I love it there, but I think I’ll love it here, too.”
Jessie tilted her head. “A positive thinker. I like that.”
Brooke smiled and shrugged. It was how she’d always rolled. Looking on the bright side just seemed smart.
It would take more than one rotten fiancé to change that.
“I should probably get back downstairs,” Jessie was saying. “That