“I’d like to talk about you,” he said quietly. “I’d like you to tell me about Clay.”
Chapter Fifteen
BROOKE STARED AT HIM for several seconds. She was surprised, although she didn’t know why. A two-second Google search of her name brought up no fewer than a dozen articles about Clay’s spectacular arrest.
For a brief moment, Brooke gave into the surge of resentment. She let herself acknowledge that it was unfair that she’d worked damn hard to build her wedding-planning career only to have it all erased by one man’s misdeeds.
As far as the general public was concerned, she was no longer Brooke Baldwin, Wedding Planner Extraordinaire. She was that poor clueless girl whose criminal mastermind fiancé got arrested at the altar.
Most of the time, Brooke accepted this. What was the point in dwelling, after all?
But sometimes . . . sometimes the unfairness of it all clawed at her throat.
Right now was one of those moments. She didn’t want Seth Tyler to look at her as Clay’s ex. She wanted to be . . .
What did she want to be in the eyes of Seth?
A competent wedding planner, certainly. The man was gearing up to fork over no small amount of money for his sister’s wedding. But she wanted to be seen as a woman, too. And not the kind that had dated a man for two years without knowing who he really was.
But . . .
She was that woman. Much as she’d like to rewrite history, she couldn’t. She couldn’t change what happened any easier than she could change the fact that the news was out there. Hell, she even had her own meme, for God’s sake.
The best she could do was convince the world that she was over it. That Clay might have surprised her, but he hadn’t hurt her.
Brooke met his eyes and smiled slightly. “You looked me up.”
“I didn’t, actually. I’ll admit I sensed there was something amiss. But it didn’t seem my place to snoop.”
“Interesting. I had you pegged for a control freak who hated surprises.”
He gave a short laugh. “Spot-on. And true. But it was different with you.”
She blinked. “Why?”
“Hell if I know,” he said, holding her gaze.
Except he did know. They both did.
“So if you didn’t go snooping, how’d you know about Clay?”
“Grant. He thought I should know before I said something idiotic.”
She snorted. “Is that even possible?”
“Play nice, Ms. Baldwin. I’m feeding you.”
“And playing nice means spilling my guts?”
“Only if you want to.”
Brooke studied him, realizing that he meant it. He wasn’t going to badger her, wasn’t going to pry. There was simply an invitation to talk. To share.
“How much do you know?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“The CNN version, I guess. I’ve never met the guy, but we moved in some of the same circles back when he was in New York. His name is familiar enough that I recognized it when I read the story.”
“You and everyone else,” Brooke muttered.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I hated him before, but knowing now that it was you he screwed over royally . . . let’s just say that I wish we still lived in a time where it was acceptable to take a man like that out back and put him and the people around him out of their misery.”
Brooke’s lips parted in surprise. “That’s very . . .”
“Uncivilized.”
“I was going to say sort of gratifying,” she admitted. “I mean I don’t actually want Clay dead, obviously, but I’ll confess that the fact that he’s been turned into some sort of celebrity can be a bit grating.”
“Because he hurt you.”
“No,” she said quickly. “He didn’t, really. I mean I suppose he did, but I’m over it. No use dwelling on what can’t be changed, right?”
His eyes narrowed slightly as though he didn’t believe her, but she stared back at him, silently daring him to challenge her so that she could flip it around and ask him if he was still dwelling on the woman, Nadia, who had turned down his marriage proposal.
She was willing to bet money that they were the same in their determination to move forward.
“I don’t know that there’s much to say other than what you already know.” She twisted her glass slowly as she stared at the melting ice. “I thought I was marrying the love of my life, obviously. And he . . . well, he wasn’t the man I thought he was. Literally and figuratively.”