was why she avoided letting her thoughts go in this direction. This was why she didn’t let herself think about Clay.
This was why . . .
Oh God.
She read and reread her text from her mom. Call me as soon as you get this.
There were four missed calls.
Even as she held her phone, it buzzed again with a message from her dad. Hang in there, sweetie. We know it’s hard. Call us.
What was hard?
What was she supposed to be hanging in there for?
She rapidly began scrolling through her other unread text messages. She had a handful from her LA friends. Friends she’d more or less been avoiding since she’d moved out to New York, because they made her think of Clay.
Hang in there, babe. Karma will get him.
This is bullshit. Thinking of you.
Are you okay? Call me.
Brooke let out a silent scream. What were they all talking about? What was wrong with people that they’d deliver the platitudes before the freaking news itself?
She dropped into Jessie’s chair behind the reception desk, her hand fumbling for the computer mouse and keyboard, knowing it would be faster than typing on her phone.
Brooke brought up Google News and typed in Clay Battaglia.
Dozens of stories popped up, all within the last hour.
She didn’t click into any of them, because she didn’t have to.
The headlines said it all.
AMERICA’S FAVORITE CON MAN DODGES JAIL TIME IN A LAST-MINUTE, UNEXPECTED PLEA BARGAIN.
Just like that, all of the pain, all of the anger of the past five months came roaring over her fast and furious.
And after a lifetime of looking on the bright side, Brooke realized she had no idea how to deal with the darkness.
She only knew that she felt like it would break her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
WHEN CELL PHONES FIRST came on the scene decades earlier, Seth’s father had not been a fan.
Convinced that mobile devices would be the end of family life and business productivity as he knew it, Hank Tyler had tried to banish cell phones wherever he could.
At home, that had meant Seth and Maya were allowed use of their cell phones only in the after-school hours to communicate their whereabouts, and in the evening after all homework was complete. Never at the dinner table, never on family outings.
It was trickier at the office.
In the early days, there’d been a no-personal-cell-use policy. But as smartphones became more ubiquitous, Hank had realized that smartphones made his people more available—not less.
Eventually, the policy had been relaxed so that there were just no cell phones allowed in meetings, from the junior business analysts all the way up to the CEO himself. It was a policy that Seth had never minded. It focused everyone’s attention on the agenda items at hand, and with no distractions, meetings were more focused and efficient.
Case in point, Seth’s budget meeting wrapped up in record time, and with a rare few minutes to spare, he headed back toward his office with the intention of hitting up Google and researching if there was some new “it” gift for Valentine’s Day. Were flowers in? Out? Was chocolate too cliché?
Then again, even if chocolate was cliché, he didn’t think Brooke would say no. He was rapidly learning the woman had a serious weakness for the stuff. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, even white chocolate—all were fair game.
In the elevator, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a note to ask Maya for a list of the best chocolate stores in the city—his sister shared Brooke’s sweet tooth, although she was an equal opportunity sugar eater and knew her way around every overpriced macaroon, truffle, and cupcake in Manhattan.
Six missed calls. Seth frowned, since few people had his personal cell phone number, and those who did were more inclined to text than call.
His stomach dropped when he saw that four of the calls had come from Brooke.
The other two were from Etta. Etta, who of all people knew that he wouldn’t have his cell on in the meeting. Then again, Etta also would have known how to reach him if it were a true emergency, so he relaxed. Slightly.
But Brooke didn’t seem the type of woman to call him multiple times in an hour unless it was urgent. The second he stepped off the elevator, he dialed her back, cursing under his breath when it went straight to voice mail. He chose not