The Only One (Sweetbriar Cove Book 3)

by Melody Grace

  Brooke tore away. This was supposed to be a good day—a perfect day—for Lila and her family. One more wedding to help even the scales, one more happy couple launched into their life of matrimonial bliss, to make up for the damage Brooke had unwittingly done.

  “Julia,” she said, feeling sick inside. “Your wife has a name.”

  “Ex-wife,” Archer insisted.

  “Oh yeah?” Brooke stared back. “Show me the papers. Better yet, don’t. Because you’re too late. It couldn’t be more over.”

  She made to leave again, but Archer blocked her path. “You have to listen,” he said, his façade crumbling. “Please, you’re all I have left. Brooke—”

  “Hey!”

  A loud voice came from across the lobby. Before Brooke even had time to react, Riley came storming over and hit Archer with a solid left hook, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  21

  Riley saw red.

  “Is this him?” he demanded, standing over the sniveling figure, crumpled on the floor. “The guy from Chicago, your ex. Not such a big man now, are we?”

  This bastard. He’d seen it on Brooke’s face the minute he walked in, the hurt and heartache in her eyes. It tore him up that anyone could make her feel that way. She didn’t deserve it, not for a second.

  With a growl, the man hurled himself at Riley, sending him stumbling back into a table. There was a smash as a vase of flowers shattered on the ground behind him, but he barely noticed as they tussled and swung. The asshole got in a lucky blow to the face, and then Riley buried his fist into the man’s stomach, sending him reeling to the floor again.

  “Riley,” Brooke hissed, tugging at his arm, but he barely noticed. Every muscle was tense and ready for action, focused on the man with a bloody nose on the floor.

  “Get up,” he growled at the guy. Hell, he didn’t even know his name, but that wouldn’t stop him. He was just getting started. “Get the hell up so I can hit you again.”

  “Just try!” Brooke’s ex staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his chin. “That was a sucker punch! I could take you in a fair fight, any day!”

  “Like hell you could!” Riley lunged, but something dragged him back.

  “Stop it!” Brooke moved in front of him, and shoved him back, hard. “For God’s sake, calm down. You too, Archer.” she whirled around, stabbing a finger at the bastard. “Are you trying to ruin my entire career?”

  Riley paused. For the first time, he realized they were in the middle of the polished marble lobby, with people all around.

  People staring at them in horror and disgrace.

  He came to his senses. What had he just done?

  “Brooke—” he started, but she cut him off.

  “Come with me,” Brooke ground out. “Both of you.” She stalked off down a hallway without a backwards glance. Riley shot a look at Archer, who scowled back, but they both wound up shuffling into her office after her.

  “I can’t deal with this right now.” Brooke glared at them. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got the wedding of the year out there!”

  “You’re right,” the asshole, Archer, quickly spoke up. “I’m sorry this brute made a scene.”

  “Says the cheating scumbag,” Riley shot back, still furious. What the hell was he doing there? Did Brooke invite him? Did she want to see him again?

  The thought of losing her hit harder than any right hook. He hadn’t had a chance yet, to tell her how he felt.

  “Who the hell are you anyway?” Archer got up in his face, sneering. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Both of you, stop it!” Brooke yelled. “Please, just stop. I have to get back out there and apologize for that scene, and then do a million other things so Lila can walk down the aisle without worrying someone’s going to throw another punch. So either you kill each other here, quietly, or you get the hell out of this hotel—I really don’t care.”

  She slammed the door behind her. Riley took a breath, chastened, then lunged for it at the same time as Archer, but he got there first.

  “Brooke—” he called after her.

  “No!” She spun around, and Riley realized to his horror that she had tears in her eyes. “I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t believe you just did that, in front of everyone!”

  Riley swallowed. “But he was hurting you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Riley,” Brooke said. “I can tell him to get lost all on my own. I don’t need you to come rushing in and humiliate me—” Her voice broke, and Riley realized for the first time it wasn’t Archer she was mad at, and feeling betrayed by.

  It was him.

  Guilt slammed through him, and he opened his mouth to apologize, but she was already looking past him, wiping frantically at her eyes. “Meredith, hi!” she exclaimed, her voice loud and false. “Look, I’m sorry about what just happened. I can explain—”

  “Save it.” A brisk-looking woman hurried over. “We’ve got more important things to deal with. The bride is gone.”

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, GONE?” Brooke stared. She’d thought this day couldn’t get any worse, but clearly, she was wrong.

  “I mean, she’s missing!”

  Brooke tried to process the news. She was still scattered, reeling from Archer’s sudden reappearance and Riley’s wild punch. Everything was crashing down on her at once, but she couldn’t fall apart.

  Focus, Brooke. One thing at a time.

  A couple of guests passed by, heading out to take their place for the ceremony, and Meredith plastered on a smile. “Isn’t it lovely?” she cooed. “Be right out!”

  The moment they were outside, Meredith grabbed Brooke’s arm and dragged her around the corner. “I’ve looked everywhere,” Meredith said.

  Brooke gulped. “You think she left?”

  “No, security are stationed at every exit, and they haven’t seen her. The paparazzi is camped out front, and you’d think a Hollywood star in a big white dress would make an impression!”

  “OK, so she’s still on the property somewhere.” Brooke thought fast. “Maybe she just needed a moment. It can all be overwhelming.”

  “The Oscars are overwhelming!” Meredith exclaimed, her voice rising. “Having your naked photos leak to the press is overwhelming. Getting married is a freaking walk in the park to her!”

  “You need to calm down,” Brooke said, wishing she could take her own advice. “There are two hundred people out there expecting a blushing bride, and we don’t want them to know anything’s wrong right now, not until we figure this out. I’ll look for Lila, you keep the crowd distracted, OK?”

  “OK.” Meredith grabbed a bottle of champagne from the closest table and gulped. “Good luck!”

  Brooke took off at the fastest walk she could manage without turning any heads. The salon, the dining hall, the honeymoon suite upstairs . . . ?

  Nothing. No sign of Lila.

  As she searched, her mind kept going back to what had just happened. She couldn’t believe Riley had laid into Archer like that. Any other time, maybe she could have enjoyed the look on Archer’s face, just a little, but today, it felt like even more proof she was screwing up beyond repair. A public brawl in the middle of the wedding? She could just imagine what Bitsy would have to say about that—if she wasn’t already on speed-dial to Brooke’s boss, demanding her head on a (perfectly polished) platter.

  Brooke’s stomach twisted with shame. First she’d ruined everything back in Chicago, now her mistakes were haunting her all the way across the country. She couldn’t even keep her personal life from blowing up and ruining someone else’s big day.

  She’d been right from the start: she was dating kryptonite, and she had no business following her heart, not while it was still radioactive enough to level a small city. Or, in this case, a whole wedding.

  She detoured past the lobby, her panic rising. Riley was waiting in the corner with a remorseful expression. “Brooke,” he started.

  “Not now!” Brooke couldn’t w
ait around, not with this wedding hanging by a thread. She’d made Lila a promise, the day of her dreams, and she’d already jeopardized it enough with her own romantic drama. She wasn’t about to let the whole event go down in flames.

  She charged onwards, leaving him behind. She must have checked every supply closet and office on the staff level, before finally, a waiter waved her over.

  “I think I’ve found your missing package,” he said meaningfully, nodding towards the kitchen.

  Brooke stepped inside. It was a bustle of activity—chefs working, the burners on full, but in the back, she found Lila sitting on a stool, her gorgeous dress bunched around her as she dug into the five-tier wedding cake.

  Brooke could have cheered in relief.

  “Lila!” She hurried over. “There you are! Everyone’s looking for you. Come on, the ceremony is about to begin.”

  Lila didn’t get up. “I found his campaign slogan,” she said sadly. “On his laptop. The slogan, the campaign pitch, the whole thing. He’s running for Congress.”

  Brooke exhaled in a whoosh.

  The fiancé, and his future plans. “Maybe it was just a proposal?” she said hopefully.

  Lila shook her head. “He’d made notes. Edited the speeches. They’re going to announce next month.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Brooke gulped. There were two hundred people waiting upstairs, the string quartet poised to begin the wedding march, and her bride was hiding out here, with frosting smeared all over her face.

  As wedding emergencies went, this was DEFCON 1.

  “He promised me,” Lila said, digging her fork deep into another layer of pristine cake. “He promised, so many times. And all along, he knew.”

  “Did you talk to him about it?”

  Lila shook her head. “What can he say? He lied.”

  “But maybe there’s an explanation!”

  “Like what?” Lila asked. “Whoops, forgot to mention, I’m signing us up for life in the spotlight, I know it’s the opposite of everything I promised you, but hey, it’s only four years. And then the governor’s race. And then a presidential run. No time at all.”

  Brooke opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Who was she kidding? This was the Cartwrights. Justin had President written all over his handsome face.

  She took a seat beside Lila and reached for another fork instead. If the wedding was about to go down in flames, she needed a sugar hit to get through it. “This is really good cake,” she said, through a mouthful. Summer had outdone herself.

  Lila nodded. “It’s beautiful. At least, it was. The whole wedding is gorgeous. You did a great job.”

  “Thank you.”

  They ate in silence for a moment.

  “I really thought he was different,” Lila said quietly. “He’s so smart, and funny, and sweet. I wasn’t even looking for a relationship, but he came along, and I just . . . couldn’t help falling for him, you know?”

  Brooke nodded. She knew. She’d never meant to fall for Riley, but she’d gone head over heels for him all the same.

  And look how that had turned out.

  “When you get him away from his family, it’s like he’s another person,” Lila continued. “I thought that’s all it would take. Us starting out on our own, doing things our way.”

  “Maybe you still can.” Brooke saw the heartache in her eyes, and wished she could spare the other woman, somehow. “Do you love him?”

  Lila nodded sadly.

  “Then maybe that’s enough.”

  “Is love ever enough?” Lila asked, her voice quiet, and Brooke’s heart clenched.

  No.

  It wasn’t. You had to have honesty, too. Trust, and loyalty; you had to be willing to open up and put your heart on the line, and make something together, no holding back. Love alone only left you heartbroken and betrayed.

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” she said softly. “They’re all waiting for you. But if you want to get out of here . . .”

  Lila shook her head. “I’m not running away. The press would eat me alive for this.”

  She slid down from the stool, and arranged her skirts around her. “Lipstick?” she asked, and Brooke found a napkin to blot at her face.

  “Perfect.”

  “The show must go on, right?” Lila gave her an empty smile, put her shoulders back, and then glided out of the kitchen like she was walking a runway.

  Brooke followed behind. She should be relieved, her once-in-a-lifetime wedding event was going ahead as planned, and aside from a minor scuffle in the lobby, everything was running like clockwork. The photos would be beautiful, and they would be booked solid for years with brides all wanting the Hollywood touch. But as she trailed Lila down the hallway and out to the lobby, she didn’t feel any pride or sense of accomplishment.

  She just felt empty, watching as if it were a crash in slow motion.

  Meredith was waiting by the doors, and cheered to see them. She gestured outside, and then a moment later, the sound of the wedding march began. Lila’s bridesmaids descended, fluttering around to adjust her gown and veil, and then they set off, marching out to the altar with their bouquets and bright smiles. Lila took a breath, and then she followed, stepping out, alone, to the crowd.

  Brooke lingered in the doorway, watching her walk down the aisle. Justin was waiting with his best man, and his face lit up at the sight of Lila, just like they always did. Brooke never got tired of seeing that smile, but today, knowing everything she did, it felt hollow.

  “Dearly beloved . . .” the priest began. “We’re gathered here today to celebrate the union of two people embarking on a lifetime together.”

  “Wait.”

  Lila’s voice was so soft, Brooke almost didn’t catch it.

  “Vows are not to be entered into lightly,” the priest continued, and then the voice came again, louder.

  “Please, stop.”

  There were gasps.

  Brooke held her breath, watching as Lila stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said to Justin. “But . . . I can’t do this. You want me to play the perfect politician’s wife, but that’s not me. It never was. I thought you knew that!”

  Justin shot a desperate look at Bitsy.

  “Babe—” he started. “You really want to talk about this now?”

  “No. It’s too late for that.” Lila held her head high. “Those vows mean everything to me, and I’m only going to say them once.”

  She turned on her heel, and started walking back up the aisle, away from him.

  “Babe!” Justin called after her, but Lila just picked up speed, breaking into a run by the time she reached Brooke.

  “Is that getaway offer still open?” she asked, hurrying inside. There was bedlam behind her—Justin hurling the ring down in anger, guests waving their cellphone cameras, and Bitsy looking like she was about to pass out.

  “Come with me.” Brooke hustled her through the lobby, and back to the staff exit. “Neil!” She grabbed her clerk on the way through. “Can you get her out of here?”

  His eyes widened. “The press . . .”

  “Take the delivery van. She can hide in the back.” Brooke grabbed the keys from the office and thrust them into his hands. “Good luck.”

  She shoved them out the door. Lila picked up the skirts of her ten-thousand-dollar gown and sprinted to the van, and then they were speeding out the back gate, past a pack of photographers, out to the main road.

  Brooke watched her go, silently wishing Lila luck. She was going to need it. Brooke had learned the hard way you couldn’t just run out on your problems—even if it seemed like the easy way out. She hadn’t been able to escape her own mistakes, and she didn’t have every tabloid magazine in the country lined up at the gates for an exclusive scoop.

  With a sigh, she returned to the patio to face the music.

  “You!” Bitsy accosted her the moment she stepped outside. “This is all your fault! I knew from the moment we stepped foot in this place it would be a disaster.
You’ll be hearing from my lawyers!”

  “Where is she?” Meredith shoved Bitsy aside. “Where did you take her? I’ve got her agents on one line and the studio on the other. We need damage control, now!”

  Brooke looked around numbly. Guests were talking in huddles, already scrolling through their phones; a fight had broken out between the groomsman, and somewhere, a helicopter was buzzing overhead.

  It was a scandal. It was a disaster.

  And it was all her fault.

  22

  Brooke spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess Hollywood left behind. The guests departed, the throngs of paparazzi melted away, and soon they were left with nothing but limply hanging streamers and a hotel full of heart-shaped cookies.

  “What do you want us to do with all the food?” one of her waitstaff asked, toting a tray of elaborate hors d’oeuvres.

  Brooke pushed back her hair and tried to focus through her pounding headache. “I don’t know. Is there a shelter or food bank on the cape? If not, tell everyone they can take whatever they like.”

  The waiter rushed off to stake his claim on some prime suckling pig, and Brooke turned her attention back to dismantling the gorgeous wedding arch. The bridesmaids had all abandoned their bouquets, and now roses and lilacs were trampled underfoot, wilted petals scattered all around the patio.

  She felt like crying.

  “And I thought we did some damage inside.”

  Brooke looked up. Riley was hovering nearby, a bashful expression on his face. “What do you want?” she asked tiredly. She could have laid down and slept for a hundred years, but there was still so much to do to wipe the memory of this disastrous day from the hotel.

  “I want to talk,” Riley said, moving closer.

  Brooke glanced up at him. God, the man even looked good with his shirt askew and the purple shadow of a black eye forming, but she fought to stay strong. This was how she wound up in this mess in the first place—letting a rising heart rate and that slow, delicious flip in her stomach overpower all her logic and reason.