made me promise to keep it quiet,” Grant replied. “And in the same way I begged him to tell you, to just be honest, I’m begging you now. Don’t do this to Maya. Don’t be dishonest with her.”
“You don’t get it,” Seth said a little desperately. “If I have a chance to help someone I care about, I have to take it. If my dad would have told me, I could have done something. I could have saved him.”
“Don’t do that, man,” Grant said. “Is that what’s driving you? You couldn’t save your dad, so now you’re thinking you’re saving Maya?”
“I have to try,” Seth said.
“That’s not love, Seth. Sticking your head into someone else’s business, not trusting them to do their life their way . . . that’s not love.”
“It’s my kind of love,” Seth snarled.
Grant made a disgusted sound and shook his head. “And that, my friend, is why you’re so goddamn alone.”
The tightness in Seth’s chest constricted horribly, and for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Get out,” Seth snapped. “Get the hell out.”
“Happily,” Grant snapped back.
It was the last word his best friend said before he stormed out of Seth’s office, the door slamming shut behind him.
Leaving Seth as he’d always been.
Alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
UGH. VALENTINE’S DAY IS the worst,” Jessie huffed as she carefully arranged fancy Levain Bomboloncini, the trendy bakery’s signature go-to snack, hand wrapped with pale pink paper, on a tray. It was four o’clock on a Friday, and a rare moment of calm in the Belles, with all four women in the same place, as Alexis had asked them to block off a couple of hours to add some classy Valentine’s Day decorations around headquarters.
“Nuh-uh,” Heather said, helping herself to one of the miniature powder-dusted doughnuts and earning a glare from Alexis. “You don’t get to say that, what with your boyfriend and all.”
“Um, I can totally have a boyfriend and still hate Valentine’s Day,” Jessie said.
“Nope.” Heather’s mouth was full of raspberry jam. “That’s reserved for us single girls.”
“Hear, hear,” Alexis muttered as she carefully placed handblown hearts into one of the hurricane vases on the reception table.
Brooke glanced over at the Wedding Belles’ owner. “You too, Alexis? You hate Valentine’s Day?”
“Not professionally,” Alexis said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “It gets people feeling all dreamy and spendy, which is good for business. But personally . . .” She shrugged. “Not my favorite.”
“I take it from your scandalized expression that you do like the holiday, Brooke,” Heather said, reaching for a miniature Godiva from the small crystal bowl on the table and getting her hand slapped by Jessie.
Brooke paused in the process of stuffing vellum valentines into fancy envelopes. All of their previous clients received handwritten notes from the Belles, unless, of course, they were on Alexis’s carefully maintained Divorce List That Wasn’t Spoken Of.
“I do like Valentine’s Day,” she admitted, running a finger over the cupid stamp on the envelope.
“That’s because she’s taken a luv-er,” Heather said in a singsong tone.
Brooke’s insides warmed as she thought about Seth. Not that he was the romantic type. She certainly wasn’t holding her breath for flowers and candy when Valentine’s Day rolled around in another week. More likely he’d forget about the day altogether, and then make it up to her with his hands and mouth and sexy words late into the night . . .
“Are you blushing?” Alexis asked, giving her a suspicious look.
Jessie laughed. “No, that’s just good old-fashioned overheating. Her mind’s gone to The Gutter.”
True. Super True.
“Okay, but seriously,” Brooke said, changing the subject away from her sex life. “Even if I didn’t have a luv-er, I’d still love Valentine’s Day.”
Heather pointed at her own face. “See this? Skepticism.”
“Big surprise,” Alexis said. “You remind us almost daily that you doubt all things men and romance.”
“As do you, dear,” Brooke heard herself say mildly.
Her boss shot her a surprised look. “Excuse me?”
Brooke’s eyes widened as she glanced around at the group of women. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were we not supposed to talk about the fact that you keep all men at a safe distance?”
Heather let out a surprised laugh, and Jessie pointed toward the kitchen. “I’m just gonna go ahead and get us some wine.”
The receptionist glanced at Alexis in question as she said this, and Alexis glanced at her watch, then shrugged at seeing the late afternoon hour. “Nobody has any last-minute appointments?”
“Nope,” Heather and Brooke chorused.
“Then what the hell,” Alexis muttered, going to the front door and pulling the