Going Down On One Knee (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 1)

by Christina Hovland

  His fucking phone rang.

  He ignored it. Two minutes. He needed two more minutes.

  Someone banged on the door. Neither of them responded.

  “Seriously, Brek. Know you’re busy, but Dean can’t get the audio to work, either,” Jase shouted.

  Brek paused midthrust.

  Well, that ruined the mood.

  He glanced to Velma; her eyes were wide and her mouth slack. With the reluctance of a martyr, he withdrew and accepted the fact that he’d be walking around all day with a shiny new set of blue balls.

  More banging. “C’mon, man. I hate to cock block, but you’ve got to get out here.”

  “Comin’,” he shouted back.

  There was a long pause. “Out here or in there?”

  “Shut up, asshole. I’m on my way.” Brek kissed Velma quickly and dropped her to her feet, waiting to be sure she wouldn’t tip over.

  She adjusted her dress, and he ran a hand over his no-longer-there hair.

  This day sucked balls.

  Jase gave him a decent side-eye but kept his trap shut as he led them to the ballroom. Velma clicked behind them on her heels.

  “Hey, man, the cable’s jacked. I think we need a new one,” Dean said when they got to the ballroom. “I can try one other thing, but Velma’s laptop timed out. I need her password.”

  Velma slipped around to the front of the computer and typed in her password. The glow of the projector filled the room.

  Brek’s gaze shifted to Velma. She’d gone stiff. Her cheeks abnormally pale. Frantic, she started typing keys, but her fingers kept slipping.

  He glanced up to the screen and…motherfucking cocksucker…Velma’s spreadsheet in all its projected glory lit up the giant screen behind the dance floor. The thing was so long that all of it didn’t fit on the screen, but she’d highlighted three rows. Dean’s. Wayne’s. And his.

  “No,” Velma said, her breath shallow. She turned her now-pleading eyes to him. The room seemed to spin as Brek read his name on the last line. Beside it was the number four. The time stamp said she had entered Brek’s name that day.

  Numbness took over. Everything sounded like it was in a vacuum. Brek stretched his hands, but he couldn’t feel them. Not with the world around him crashing.

  The four stung, no doubt. But what burned? Wayne’s name above his with a bullshit nine in the next column. And Dean with his ten above that.

  Fuck.

  “Is that your dating spreadsheet Claire was talking about?” Dean asked, focused on the screen. “Why am I on it…?” His words trailed off at the end.

  Sour betrayal pooled in Brek’s gut as he carefully unclenched his hands. “Same question. Why am I on it?”

  She said she’d given up the spreadsheet. So, this is what it felt like to have your heart broken. No wonder he’d never taken the plunge before.

  “Brek…” Velma started toward him, but he raised a hand in defense of his heart.

  “Not the time,” he said quietly. Damn if his voice didn’t crack.

  Velma’s chest heaved with big breaths. She pushed past him and yanked the cords from the back of her computer. The room dimmed with the loss of the light from the projector.

  He couldn’t deal with this at the moment. Focus on the gig at hand—this was his job.

  Oh God. The way Brek’s face had twisted with pain when he saw the score her algorithm had given him.

  Velma glanced away from him and swallowed past the regret of her idiocy. She should never have added him to her spreadsheet. Of course she had figured that out right after she’d done it. But he didn’t know that. Judging by the way the muscle in his jaw twitched and the light in his eyes burnt out, she had crushed him.

  “Velma, seriously, why am I on the list?” Dean’s expression was blank.

  The room spun, and it seemed someone had pressed the pause button on her lungs.

  “I…um…” She should just tell him. Get it out there. “I used to have a little thing for you before you started dating my sister. Totally benign. I’m over it, and I’m so happy for you and Claire.”

  I love Brek now.

  All she had to do was tell him.

  “Is that why you did that thing you used to do in the office?” He frowned. “The one where you wouldn’t look me in the eye? I thought you didn’t like me. Huh. It makes sense now.”

  Brek hadn’t moved since the spreadsheet was on the screen. Hadn’t hardly breathed.

  She sucked in as much air as she could. “Can we go outside?” She reached for Brek’s arm.

  “I’ve got work to do.” He didn’t even look at her. “We need to get a new audio cable. I’ll send Amy to grab one. Leave your password so she can get it working.”

  Okay. That’s fine. She lowered her hand. He wasn’t ready to let her apologize. He had work to do. She understood that. But he still loved her. She knew it in the depths of her damaged soul.

  Dean glanced to Brek, then Velma, then back to Brek. “Velma, you should go find Claire. Make sure she’s good.”

  She grabbed a sticky note from the projector cart and wrote her password on it, BrekenridgeMontgomery, and handed it to Dean.

  She shrugged the strap of the duffle bag, full of her emergency wedding supplies, over her shoulder. With as much dignity as she could muster in her too-tight maid-of-honor dress, Velma went to find her sister.

  Onward. Forward. Except…Brek.

  Sometimes the hard thing isn’t to run. It’s to stay.

  Velma stopped midstride and gripped the gaudy purple fabric on one of the chairs—she had to fix things with him. No matter what, she couldn’t run away.

  With all the effort she had, she laid her bag on the nearest table and pressed her fingertips against her eyes.

  She glanced to Brek, but he wore a strange look on his face and wouldn’t meet her gaze. His expression remained solid. The sting of the situation covered her like a thick serum of bull crap.

  “Brek?”

  His eyes flared. He shook his head before walking out with Dean right behind him. Dean gave her a sympathetic look and shook his head lightly.

  Velma had never felt more incompetent in her entire life.

  Someone cleared their throat. Velma looked behind her.

  “Well…” Pops shoved his hand through what was left of his hair and grimaced. Claire and Heather stood beside him, their expressions unreadable.

  Tears that had threatened before started to leak from the corners of Velma’s eyes. She brushed them aside with her knuckles. “I’ve messed everything up with him.”

  Pops smelled of the spicy cologne he always wore as he rubbed her back in that awkward way of his.

  “How much did you see?” She collapsed onto a chair and dropped her elbows to her knees.

  “Enough.” He sat beside her and leaned forward, his hands folded in his lap.

  “Pretty much everything.” Heather’s words were soft. Sympathetic.

  “I thought you stopped using the spreadsheets?” Claire pulled out a chair and sat.

  Heather followed suit. “Why’d you rank Brek? And at a four?”

  “And Dean? Why did you put him there?” Claire asked.

  Velma wiped away more tears and threw up her hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Let’s start at the beginning, then,” Pops said with the patience of a man who had conducted countless counseling sessions over the years.

  She told them everything. Including her old crush on Dean. Minus the part about the things Brek had done to her on the back of a motorcycle.

  Pops sat silent for a few beats.

  “You never said anything about liking Dean.” Claire’s words were delicate. “I never would’ve dated him if I’d known.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I didn’t tell you. You two are perfect for each other. But I still don’t know how to fix things with Brek.” The spreadsheet was wrong. Like always. Numbers would never account for feelings.

  “You s
ee things in black and white, but you’ve got to change that. The rainbow has a multitude of colors. Just because Brek doesn’t measure up to a silly standard you created doesn’t mean he’s wrong for you.” Pops’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. “Doesn’t mean he’s right for you, either. But the only way to see that for sure is to open your eyes. They’ve been closed awhile now.”

  Pops was wrong. Brek had opened her eyes. She’d just pinched them shut again when things got hard.

  “I’ve ruined everything.” Her shoulders drooped further.

  “He’s still here. There’s time to fix things.” Claire grabbed her hand and squeezed.

  Doubtful. Her life had imploded all around her. “I need a new plan. A better one.”

  “Maybe you don’t need one at all. Go where it feels right and stop making the easy things hard. Use your intuition.” Heather took Velma’s other hand.

  She had her friends. They hadn’t given up on her.

  “Velvet, dear. Keep your eyes open.” Pops smiled wistfully.

  She nodded and set out to make things right with Brek.

  With her shoes in hand, she took the stairs with as much speed as her dress allowed.

  She finally found him on his phone, relaying messages to the staff at the church.

  “Brek,” she said when he hung up.

  He tossed her a distant look and the muscles in her chest tightened.

  “I messed up. I’m sorry.” That summed it up, right? She stepped closer.

  He shoved his phone in the pocket of his suit pants and studied the ceiling, the cords of his neck pulsing against his obvious frustration. “I thought you were past all of this.”

  “Past what?” Why wasn’t he touching her? He always found ways to touch when they were close.

  He dropped his gaze to the floor, hands on his hips. “Your head shoved up your ass.”

  Velma shifted on her bare feet. “That’s not fair.”

  This time he did meet her eyes. Her breath caught at the devastated emotion mirrored back at her.

  He brushed past her down the steps.

  Her heart broke more than a little as she watched him go.

  An aching distance separated them at the church. Brek threw himself into the coordination as soon as they arrived. Work couldn’t wait, and Velma got that, but the way he blatantly dodged her attempts to communicate began to grate.

  “Have you seen Brek?” Jase asked Velma as he sauntered into the Sunday school room they used as a staging area for Claire’s bridal party.

  “I don’t know. Last I saw, he was talking to Pops near the rectory.” Velma pushed away a nonexistent strand of hair from her cheek. “Jase, about what happened…”

  The light in Jase’s eyes dimmed. “He’s my buddy. It’s best if I don’t get involved in this.”

  But she needed everyone to know that filling out the spreadsheet with his information was a mistake. “When I filled out the spreadsheet, I didn’t understand him. I get it now, but he’s blocking me out.”

  Jase scrubbed a hand over his military-grade haircut. “You gave him a four.”

  Velma tried to roll the tension from her shoulders. Technically, the algorithm gave him a four, but that didn’t seem to be a good point to argue. The spreadsheet was wrong. Absolutely wrong.

  “Jase, they need you at the chapel.” Brek’s chirpy assistant, Amy, clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

  Jase squeezed Velma’s arm and left to take his place next to Dean…and Brek.

  “Everyone ready? Anyone need anything? Water? Restroom? Now’s the time,” Amy continued.

  Velma fluffed Claire’s veil and forced herself to smile. “Ready?”

  Claire nodded. A sprinkle of tears dusted her eyelids through the mass of tulle. Gram’s repurposed now-sleeveless dress hugged her chest and waist tight, and the A-line silk skirt with the vintage lace overlay was perfection.

  The Rosette photographer adored the history of the gown. They planned to post Claire’s image next to the one of their grandmother.

  Grams would’ve loved that.

  They moved to the chapel, waiting at the closed doors. The flower girls and ring bearer lined up near the entrance, then Heather, Velma, and finally Claire with their father.

  Velma took her place behind Heather, gripping her purple roses that Jase had wrapped tight with white ribbon. He had included a variety of shades of lavender, amethyst, periwinkle—there were practically fifty shades of purple roses.

  They were gorgeous.

  A string quartet started an instrumental version of the “Purple Rain” inspiration song in the chapel. Velma turned to Claire and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Claire took their father’s arm.

  Velma took a huge breath.

  “Wait.” Claire stopped Amy just before the doors opened.

  Oh no. Velma’s heart nearly stopped beating. Claire couldn’t run. Not like Sophie. Not with the blog photographer snapping photos. At that moment, he was on the other side of the doors waiting for them to open.

  Claire disentangled her arm from their father’s and handed him her oversized bouquet.

  Velma couldn’t move. Claire had to get married.

  The quartet continued on in the chapel without the bridal party.

  “What are you doing?” Velma whispered.

  “Are we running? I can get a car?” Heather peeked from behind Velma.

  “No.” Claire threw her arms around Velma, “I’m not running. I just…”

  Velma raised her eyebrows at their incredibly confused father. She patted Claire’s back with her bouquet-free hand.

  “I’m getting married.” Claire held Velma tighter.

  “Yes. That’s what you should be doing right now.” Velma glanced to Heather, who looked as confused as she felt.

  “Like, literally, right now,” Heather added.

  Claire stepped back and did a deep-breath-arm-wave. “I’m getting married.”

  “Uh-huh.” Velma took the bouquet from her father and pressed it into Claire’s hands. “Let’s go do that.”

  Claire nodded. Velma got Claire resituated.

  Velma waited her turn, then stepped into the chapel. The purple rose petals along the red carpet smashed under her footsteps. She kept her focus on Brek.

  He never looked in her direction. A chink formed in the armor around her heart.

  The bridal chorus played, and still Brek didn’t look her way.

  All through the ceremony, he avoided eye contact. Claire kissed Dean, and they beamed at each other down the aisle. Brek took Heather’s arm at the end, and Jase took Velma’s.

  “He’ll come around,” Jase commented as Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” played through the organ pipes.

  She smiled tightly and nodded at her aunt Marlene, the whole time praying Jase was right.

  The receiving line took forever. About halfway through, Velma realized she’d never eaten lunch. Her blood sugar crashing right along with her world, she finally arrived at the reception and took her place at the head table.

  Claire and Dean had decided on a three-tiered, purple-tinted vanilla and coconut cake, but they went with what Maggie called naked frosting. To Maggie, that meant she used the barest amount of icing, leaving the purple cake tiers exposed. To Brek that meant…well, he’d illustrated for Velma exactly what he thought that meant. It didn’t take much imagination.

  There was no smashing of the cake in faces—just a playful attempt by Claire. Their mother wasn’t amused.

  “Velvet?”

  Her cousin Lance stood behind her—a sweet still-sort-of-teenager who had passed the awkward preteen stage and was becoming a man. “Lance.”

  She stood to give him a hug. “I missed you at the receiving line. Pops said you brought a girlfriend with you?”

  His cheeks turned red. “Everyone’s talking about it, huh?”

  “So far the verdict is that everyone likes her.” Velma squeezed his shoulder.

  “You’re with
the biker guy?” he asked.

  “I am.” She pinched a smile. Not that anyone would possibly know they were together, given he hadn’t spoken to her. He’d disappeared when the band had started to play.

  “I don’t like him.” Lance pulled a face.

  Velma scowled at her cousin. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re sad and he hasn’t done anything to fix that.” Lance was sweet, she’d give him that.

  “It’s not his fault. He’s busy with the wedding.” She swallowed the thick lump of emotions that threatened to spill.

  “Well, I came over here to see if you’ll dance with me.” He held his palm out to her. “What do you say?”

  Getting her groove on wasn’t in the cards while things were so messy with Brek. “I’m not feeling much like—”

  A glass clinking over the loudspeaker drew her attention to the stage.

  Brek stood under the floodlights in a patch of bright white among a sea of purple. A flute of champagne gripped in his hand, he raised it to where Claire and Dean stood on the dance floor.

  Velma’s breath dissolved in her lungs at the sight of Brek. Onstage. In his element.

  She loved that man.

  A waiter brought the bride and groom champagne. Brek kept his focus on them, not once glancing her way.

  “I first met Dean in the hallway outside Mrs. Haulman’s ninth-grade Greek literature class,” he began. “Jase, Eli, and I were headed to learn about The Odyssey. Dean was about to get his ass kicked by a couple of football players.” Brek scratched at his temple as the crowd laughed. Velma swallowed back an onslaught of tears, absorbing everything Brek. “I think it’s fair to say that we never expected Dean to find a girl like Claire—not everyone is lucky enough to find their other half, but when you do, you hang on tight.” He tossed a sincere smile to Dean and Claire. “Congrats, you two.”

  He raised his glass, and the room met his gesture…everyone except Velma, who couldn’t seem to move.

  “Velma?” Heather caught her arm. “We need to help Claire change out of her dress.”

  Velma shrugged at Lance. “Duty calls. Rain check?”

  “Absolutely.” He hugged her again. “Find your smile, Velvet.”

  By the time the bride and groom were ready to leave under handfuls of purple rose petals, Velma’s eyelids seemed to have weights attached to them.