I have been doing a lot of thinking since the night Mikaela and I talked. Unfortunately, for me, most of that thinking has been late at night while lying alone in bed. I’m so tired of being at odds with myself, and I hate that my feelings for Ashton are in direct conflict with my commitment to Brock. Now if I could only get that kiss out of my mind, then maybe I could stop my brain from constantly repeating it inside my head. Sleep has been eluding me for the last few days. I’ve been tossing and turning every night, and now I’m so tired that I’m walking around in a grumpy mood. Heck, if I am honest with myself, I have not been sleeping well since this whole mess started. My mood isn’t the only thing suffering, either. My memory is blown to heck; if I don’t write it down, it won’t get done.
The restaurant is officially opening its doors in two days, and I don’t feel anywhere near ready. I feel like there isn’t enough of me to go around. Sure, Amber and Mikaela both have taken a load off me so I can focus on the cooking and have the kitchen running smoothly. We are close to nearly having every duck lined up. All the staff is hired, all of the wine and whiskey has arrived, the last of the renovations have been completed, and all the invitations have gone out. The press has been invited, and Mikaela has assured me that everything for the opening night event has been checked off. Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that I am an enormous bundle of nerves. Besides the nerves I have about the opening night not running smoothly, I am also dealing with my personal drama. I’ve been receiving flowers daily; all of them beautiful, all of them humongous, all of them different. Today I got sunflowers and yesterday tulips, but all of them come with the same message:
#SorryNOTSorry
X
A.
The man is sending me hashtags. He’s got a sense of humor for sure. My office is starting to smell like a garden in full summer bloom, not that I’m complaining. The flowers are beautiful, and the vibrant colors are lifting my spirits. While the man who sends them to me is confusing, there is no denying that he’s romantic. I had told him red is my favorite color, so he sent red roses. I told him that my while my favorite flower as a little girl were sunflowers, I am very partial to tulips because they remind me of my grandmother. I can’t imagine that all of these are a coincidence. He must have paid attention while we talked. I have yet to tell Brock about this since I’m not sure how to approach it. Plus, the last thing I want to do is drive a bigger wedge between them. According to Brock, Ashton has not been to the office since the family dinner. Gigi is beside herself because he is refusing to answer the phone when she calls. Brock also says he has been by his apartment a few times, but the doorman says he isn’t home every time. It seems like telling Brock that Ashton is reaching out to me, especially in an inappropriate way, might fuel his anger, which I’m trying to avoid at all costs.
“Another bouquet today, I see?” Amber says as she walks into my office.
I am really not in the mood for a lecture or the third degree, but judging from the look on her face and her demeanor, that is exactly what’s coming. She lowers herself in the chair across from my desk.
“Yup.”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“What are you going to do about it, M?”
“Absolutely nothing. I am going to ignore it until he gives up.”
“So, what? You’re playing ostrich now? Sticking your head in the sand isn’t going to solve anything. You know that. Besides, if you really wanted to ignore it, then you wouldn’t keep the flowers,” she says smugly.
“Now why in the world would I waste perfectly good flowers? They are beautiful, and I like the way they smell,” I say defensively.
She sits there in silence for a moment as if she is collecting her thoughts before she speaks.
“Listen, M. I get it. I know you. Fuck, even though this restaurant is everything you’ve ever wanted—and let’s be real, this place is amazing—I also know you care about Brock and your promise to him even more. I also know you are not being honest with yourself.”
I frown.
“What are you talking about, Amber?”
She sighs.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Mackenzie. I have never seen you look at anyone like that before, and I’m worried that you are lying to yourself.”
“Lying to myself?” I repeat.
“Yes, lying to yourself,” she says in a tone that indicates she is a little irritated. “You are in love with that man.”
“You think I’m in love with Brock?” I say with a laugh in my voice.
She narrows her eyes and shoots me a murderous look.
“Don’t play coy. You’re in love with Ashton, and I know that you know I meant him.”
I scoff.
“I don’t even know how you got there,” I say, annoyed as I rise from my seat. “But I don’t have time for this.”
“What was that little display in front of your building? There was enough heat between the two of you to melt the North Pole. And don’t even get me started on that kiss you told me about.”
“I told you that I don’t have time for this crap, and I am definitely not in the mood,” I bark.
I rise to my feet and start walking out of my office, but Amber remains seated.
“You let him call you Mac,” she calls after me.
I stop walking. I’d never realized it before, but he does call me that. Strangely, it doesn’t bother me when he does.
“And?”
“You hate being called Mac.”
“Okay?”
She groans.
“Fine, you don’t have to admit it to me, but you better admit it to yourself. Not only are you are about to get married, you’re about to get married to his brother. You can’t come back from that. If that is what you choose to do, then I am behind you one hundred percent, but I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t make sure you did what was right for you.”
I hate to admit that she is right, too. I know that I have feelings for Ashton, but I can’t act on them without betraying Brock. And I would never do that. Admitting out loud that I have feelings for him would just make it more real, and I am not ready to face that yet.
Amber rises to her feet, approaches me, and envelops me with her arms in a tight hug.
“We have worked so hard, and everything is so perfect. I just don’t want you to start resenting your dream place.”
“You’re a good friend, Amber.”
“Good?” she scoffs. “The best, you mean. Like, the best ever.”
I chuckle.
“I stand corrected.”
“Damn right.”
* * *
I am in my office filing the receipts for various deliveries when there is a knock on my door. Brock saunters in with a grin on his face. He is sporting a pair of aviators, I am assuming to hide his shiner. That suspicion is confirmed when he removes the glasses. His poor eye has lost most of the swelling, but it’s still black and blue, the edges turning yellow. For a guy with a huge black eye, he is in a remarkable mood.
“What has you so chipper today?” I ask with a smile.
“Really? People still use the word chipper in this day and age?”
“Apparently so,” I say with a chuckle.
“Oh God, I am marrying an old lady,” he says in an exaggerated, dramatic tone.
“Now listen here, young man. No more of that ‘old lady’ talk, or I will have you over my knee in a hot second,” I say, giving him my best old lady impression. We both laugh way too hard at that.
“Well, if you must know why I’m so chipper…” he says as the smirk on his face doubles in size, “I just had a meeting with Pops.”
“Oh? Judging from the look on your face and your excitement level, the meeting went terribly?” I joke.
That earns me another chuckle.
“We talked about Ashton and what to do about this situation. We have decided that our strengths are in different places, so we should bring those together and act as co-CEOs of Walker Inc. It certainly isn’t something new, but it is very uncommon in the business world to tap more than one CEO. But this way, we both get what we want, and Walker Inc. needs the both of us there,” Brock explains excitedly.
His excitement is contagious for sure, and I feel a huge sense of relief. Part of me has been so worried about Ashton, and I have been feeling guilty for my part in all of this. Now that I know things will work out for him, I feel better.
“Now that tool just needs to answer his damn phone. We have been trying to get in touch with him for days now. Nobody has seen or heard from him.”
A twinge of guilt washes over me, and I know that I can’t stay silent anymore.
“Brock, there is something that I need to tell you.”
Apparently, this piques his interest because he directs his attention straight to me, worry etched all over his face.
“What’s the matter, M? Are you okay?”
The fact that he’s immediately concerned about my well-being only makes me feel worse.
“Well, I have actually heard from Ashton,” I admit, feeling contrite.
“You heard from him? He called you?”
“Um, no. I think he has been trying to apologize? He has been sending me flowers.”
Brock frowns.
“He’s been sending you flowers?”
I nod.
“These flowers?” he says as he points to the sunflowers on my desk.
“Yes.”
“And the lilies too?”
“Yes, Brock. Let me make it easier for you: he has sent all of them.”
I don’t mention the cards attached, and what they say, since I’m trying to wrap it up in a better package. The last thing I want is to come between the two brothers any more than I already have. I can see the wheels turning inside his head as he taps his index finger on his chin.
“Okay, maybe mending fences with you first is his way of reaching out.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say with a tentative smile.
“So, if we can’t get in touch with him, then maybe you can try?”
I cringe.
“I don’t know, Brock. I really don’t want to get in the middle of all this.”
Brock looks disappointed, and I instantly feel remorse.
“Okay, I will text him and ask him to meet with me tomorrow. I can tell him what you told me, and then he can make up his own mind.”
Brock’s face lights up, but my stomach knots up. I am not sure if I can trust myself alone with him. I remember I’m supposed to go to the downtown farmers’ market tomorrow to get fresh produce for opening night, and it occurs to me that I can have him meet me there. Brock jumps up, almost hurls himself on top of me, and hugs me close.
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Well duh, I know that,” I tell him. “But you can remind me as often as you want,” I add with a wink.
“Deal. At least once a day, every day, for the next two years,” he says while holding his hand over his heart.
I chuckle and pull out my phone to text Ashton. My fingers tap the screen as I try to write the most neutral message possible. His reply is almost instantaneous, as if he has been waiting by the phone for me to message. He agrees to meet, telling me he is looking forward to it. Brock seems a little perturbed, probably because he has been trying to get in touch with his brother for days now with zero results.
“We will see. Maybe everything will get cleared up tomorrow.”
He smiles.
“I hope so. I will need him to be the best man at our wedding,” he says with a smile. “Speaking of our wedding...”
I burst out laughing.
“Did you just segue into a conversation about our wedding?”
Brock chuckles along with me.
“Maybe you missed your calling as a news anchor.”
“You think you’re funny.”
“Hmmm, maybe I missed my calling as a stand-up comedian? What do you say? Should I trade in the apron for a mic?”
“Stick with the apron,” he deadpans. “Cause laughs are fun and all, but I’d rather have a full belly.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“Now who’s got jokes?” I say, shaking my head.
“We are getting off topic. I wanted to ask you a favor.”
“You are simply full of those today, aren’t ya?”
“Well, this one is more for Gigi.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so? Whatever it is, I’m in.”
“You don’t even know what it is. You might want to find out first.”
“Hmmm, that sounds ominous.”
He laughs.
“Still, I am in. Anything for Gigi,” I say with a smile.
“Listen, I am serious. If it’s too weird for you, you can say no.”
“Out with it, Brock. What is it?”
“She wants you to wear Mom’s dress.”
“Your mom’s dress? Like her wedding dress?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
For a moment, I am not sure how to react. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. Even though everyone else thinks that we are in love and that this marriage is real, the two of us know better. It makes me feel guilty.
“If you are worried about the dress looking awful, I assure you the gown is stunning, and we can have any required alterations made.”
“Brock, we can’t do that. That dress is special. You can’t waste it on me.”
“Who else am I going to waste it on? You can rest assured that you will be my one and only wife,” he jokes.
“Are you forgetting about your brother? What if he gets married? His future bride might want to wear it and will miss out because I already wore it.”
“But Gigi wants you to wear it. Besides, the day that Ashton Walker says I do is the day that hell has frozen over and pigs are flying.”
I hate that I am equally pleased and hurt by that last part.
“I’m not sure about this, Brock. Gigi doesn’t realize that this marriage isn’t for real. I don’t want to sully the memory of her daughter by wearing her dress.”
He takes my hand in his and peers into my eyes.
“I am sad that my parents are not going to be at my wedding. They have never been present for any of our major milestones, and I think that if my mom was around today, she would love for you to wear that dress. With you wearing it, it’ll be like part of her is at my wedding. Yes, it would mean a lot to Gigi, but it would mean a lot to me too. Will you please consider it?”
Tears burn in the corners of my eye. How am I supposed to say no to that?
“Hey! No fair bringing in dead relatives to win your argument,” I tell him as I slap his arm.
Brock shrugs and smirks at me.
“All is fair in love and war.”
I roll my eyes.
“Fine,” I concede. “If it really means that much to the both of you, then you can tell Gigi that I would be honored to wear your mother’s dress.”
A beaming Brock leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he says sweetly. “From the both of us.”
“Anything for my future wasband.”
“I’m sorry, your what now?”
“Well, in about two years when we get divorced, you ‘was’ my husband. Ergo, my future wasband,” I say with a wink.
Brock bursts out laughing.
“I take it all back. Maybe you need to try your hand in stand-up comedy.”
“Lucky me, if the restaurant business doesn’t pan out, I’ll always have a fallback career. Score!”
We both chuckle.
“I’m starving,” Brock announces. “How about I take us out to dinner?”
“I’d love to,” I say with a smile.