Chapter Ten - Anthony

“So David tells me you’re seeing Brooke tonight,” my mom says, watching as I slide my wallet into my pants pocket.

“I am,” I say, shrugging and trying to be casual about it.

“You know, I always really liked her. She’s become such a lovely young woman. So pretty,” my mom says, raising her eyebrows on the last part like it’s a question.

“It’s good to catch up with an old friend. It makes me feel like I’m really home,” I say. I know what question she’s asking, and I do not want to answer yet. Everything with Brooke has been better than I could have planned, but it’s also all still very tentative.

“Is that all?” my mom asks.

“That’s all, and I’m late,” I say, heading out. Mom was like this about Brooke when we were teenagers too, always convinced we were more than friends. Maybe she was right. Maybe we always were.

Brooke is already at the Purple Hog when I get there, and she looks amazing in the little yellow sundress she has on. We order way too much food and a round of beer, settling back into our booth like we never left.

“My dress came today,” Brooke says with a slight smirk after our food arrives.

“That’s good news,” I say, watching her as she takes a long drink.

“I was going to try it on and take a picture for you, but then I remembered that’s bad luck,” Brooke says.

“It is,” I say, laughing. “So, I’ll have to be surprised.”

“I guess you will,” she says, smiling that stunning smile of hers at me.

“We should probably make other plans,” I say, and she nods.

“Absolutely,” she says, “Only four months to go.”

“Not much time at all,” I say. It’s ridiculous that we’re still carrying on this joke, that we’re taking it further. But I don’t want to stop it. I don’t want to stop anything that’s happening with Brooke.

“We should book a band,” Brooke says. Her skin is glowing, and the cut of her dress shows off the line of her collarbones and the swell of her chest. I can’t stop staring.

“I was thinking a DJ, actually,” I say.

“We could do both,” Brooke says. “A band for the service and a DJ for the reception.”

“That could work. What kind of band?” I ask thoughtfully. She laughs.

“Maybe one of those four-piece string ensembles? Those are classy,” she says.

“I’ll make some calls,” I say. She grins at me and pulls apart a breadstick, popping a piece in her mouth.

“And we’ll need food,” Brooke says. I nod.

“Does the Sunrise Market still cater?” I ask, thinking of how many christenings, graduations, and birthday parties I’d been to that been catered with trays of food from the little local Sunrise Market.

“They’re still the only ones in town that cater,” Brooke says, laughing again.

“Perfect,” I say. “And I know a photographer. I’m sure she’d come to town for us.”

“A photographer from New York?” Brooke asks, sounding curious.

“A few years ago, I did a whole photoshoot when I was named one of the Top 10 Exciting and Innovative New Yorkers Under 30, and Laurel was the photographer. She’s brilliant,” I say, smiling and thinking of the older woman with her eccentric fashion sense and outgoing personality. “Her husband of thirty years had died a few months before. She’d heard about Michelle, so she reached out to me during the shoot and we became friends.”

“I bet she’s a fascinating person. Being a photographer sounds so interesting. It’s such exciting work,” Brooke says, sounding wistful.

“Have you thought more about applying for that development and marketing job?” I ask, searching her face. There is something I keep noticing in little moments. It seems like Brooke is sadder, or more stressed, or more something than she is letting on. I don’t know if it’s that she isn’t fulfilled at work, but I can’t help but think that doesn’t help.

“A little,” she says, biting her lip. “Would you really help me prepare?”

“Of course I would,” I say quickly, my eyes drawn to her lips, to her mouth. The way she’s biting her lip makes me want to run my thumb over it. It makes me want to kiss her.

“Maybe,” Brooke says, nodding slowly. She looks at me closely, blushing a little, like she knows I was staring at her mouth.

We carry on for hours again, talk of work turning into her asking me for stories about New York, those turning into her stories about a weekend vacation she’d taken with Autumn last year. The night passes quickly, and I can’t get over how much fun I’m having. No one has made me feel like this in a very long time. I’ve spent years sleeping with beautiful women, throwing around my money and trying to live so fast that I forgot all of my pain, but none of it came close to how Brooke makes me feel. She makes me feel alive and whole and happy, and I want to keep that feeling.

Brooke had walked to dinner, and it’s late when we finally leave, so I drive her home. She sets the satellite radio in my car to a station that plays songs from when we were in high school. We sing along, laughing.

“You know, I was thinking,” I say, watching her sing, watching the way the moon lights up her face, “we could use this car and actually take that road trip of ours.”

“We could make it our honeymoon,” Brooke says. She laughs, but it feels a little more serious than the jokes we’ve been making.

When we get to her door, she smiles at me and bites her lip again, eyes moving quickly, like she’s making a decision.

“Would you like to come in? I have wine. We could have a last drink,” she says. She’s fidgeting with the strap of her purse, and her eyes are locked on mine.

I make a decision too. I grab her arm and pull her in, kissing her like I’ve wanted to since I was seventeen years old. Her hand comes up to my neck instantly, and she kisses me back like she’s wanted this too – like everything was leading to this. Kissing Brooke feels heady and addictive, and makes me feel like I really am a teenager with how new and fresh it seems. I’ve kissed more women than I can remember, but kissing Brooke somehow feels different altogether.

“Do you still want me to come in?” I ask when we pull back a little. I put a hand on the small of her back and feel her tremble under my touch. She nods rapidly.

“Please do,” she says. She sounds out of breath and already turned on. I can’t wait to hear what other sounds she makes. I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without seeing her like this: eyes dilated, skin flushed, and breathing heavy. I want more of it.

“Lead the way,” I say, kissing her again as I do.