by Olivia Miles
Brooke gulped and stopped walking, realizing with a beating heart that of course there would be flowers. This was the school prom! And who else would be in charge of the centerpieces other than…
“Gabby!” She called out to her sister as she appeared in the open doorway, wearing jeans and a tee-shirt and balancing a large floral arrangement by its glass vase.
Gabby followed the sound and her gaze landed on Brooke in confusion. “Brooke?” She raked a look over Brooke’s attire. “What are you doing here?”
“I was asked to help chaperone,” Brooke said as she neared. She felt suddenly self-conscious of her attire until she realized that Gabby was part of the setup committee, and would be leaving before the event kicked off. “I should have known that you’d be part of this.”
“You know how much I love to plan a good prom.” Gabby laughed and then gave a little sigh. It was still a sore spot that no one had ever asked her to the biggest high school event of the spring. “Britt roped you in, huh?”
Gabby didn’t wait for an answer, and Brooke took the time to peek inside the open doors to see her cousin giving instructions to a group of students, who were already dressed for the event and probably eager to get on with the fun.
“Well, I’d ask you to give me a hand with these arrangements, but I’d hate for you to get your dress dirty.” Gabby brushed a wisp of hair from her face and then pointed at Brooke’s dress. “By the way, I’m borrowing that if I’m ever asked out on a date.”
Brooke grinned. “Deal. And I’m happy to help. This is a very forgiving fabric.”
“If you’re sure,” Gabby said, but she wasted no time in marching to her delivery van and handing Brooke one of the remaining arrangements.
Brooke tucked her beaded clutch under her arm so she could manage the vase without spilling any of the water. It was a cheerful arrangement, made of bright purple flowers with a touch of pink mixed in.
“It’s weird being back here, isn’t it?” Gabby asked as they walked into the school and down the corridor that had once been so familiar and still bore the same scent of cleaning detergent and…well, probably sweat.
“It’s certainly a blast from the past,” Brooke commented, as they passed by the fine arts studio where she’d spent many happy afternoons, and came to a stop outside the gymnasium doors.
“Speaking of a blast from the past.” Gabby nudged her chin. “Look who’s here.”
Brooke’s pulse skipped as she looked across the gymnasium, which had been converted to a spring forest, with trees, and fairy lights, and bunches of big, bright bouquets on the center of each round table. Even though she knew that Kyle would be here, she still felt a rush of warmth spread through her when she saw him standing near the concessions stand, his hands in the pockets of his grey slacks, his suit coat buttoned. He turned, slowly, as if feeling her stare, his face breaking out into a grin when he caught her eye.
“My, my,” Gabby said, sliding her a pointed look. “Looks like you might have a date to this prom after all.”
Brooke felt her cheeks flush and knew that there was no sense in hiding it from Gabby. “You know that Kyle and I can’t get back together.”
Gabby scoffed at that. “Why not? People break up and get back together all the time.” She set an arrangement on a nearby table and fluffed a few of the flowers. “I mean, I wouldn’t know from personal experience, but look at Britt and Robbie, and Amelia and Matt.”
“It’s different. Kyle and I are—were—married.” Her heart sped up and she wondered briefly if Gabby had caught on, but her sister was too focused on her flowers to catch the slip or read anything into it.
“In my opinion that just means your bond is even deeper.” Gabby took the arrangement from Brooke’s hand and sauntered away with a knowing smile, leaving Brooke with no choice but to square her shoulders and cross the room.
Kyle grinned as she approached. “Am I allowed to tell you that you look beautiful tonight?”
Brooke looked down at her feet, her pink-painted toenails peeping out of her shoes, and then back up into his eyes. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said.
And he did. The last time she’d seen him this dressed up must have been their wedding day, she realized with a start. He’d worn a navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a navy bowtie. It wasn’t like his typical style of jeans and a tee-shirt or sweater, and as she’d walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, she remembered thinking that he’d dressed up for her because this wasn’t just her day, it was their day. Just like her future was supposed to be their future. For so long, everything she did, every plan she made, every dream she had, included him.
It was too easy to get used to that feeling again, to fall into old habits, to pretend that the part of their past that had driven them apart never happened.
“Punch?” Kyle asked, breaking the silence.
Brooke nodded eagerly, even though she wasn’t even thirsty, and her hands were feeling a little shaky, too. “Sure.”
He ladled some of the pink drink into a plastic cup and handed it to her as the band began to play and the kids began to filter in, the girls in long gowns that were all of a sleeker style than the frilly and poufy options Brooke and her friends had gone with all those years ago, the boys looking suitably uncomfortable in their formalwear, tugging at their ties, or skimming the screens of their phones, trying to look otherwise occupied.
Brooke couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re children!”
Kyle grinned as he looked on. “Yep, and we were too once.” He hesitated before giving her a rueful glance. “Remember our senior prom?”
“Ha!” Brooke took a sip of her drink. “You gave me a corsage that was nearly the size of the table centerpieces.”
“The bigger the better.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then.” After a beat, he sobered, his eyes softened when they met hers. “Maybe I never did.”
Her heart thawed another notch. “It was sweet. And it certainly got a lot of attention. I had the prettiest flowers of every girl at the dance. Though it did make things a little awkward when it came to actually dancing.”
He laughed. “I do remember that.”
She remembered something else, too. How she’d saved it. Tucked it away to dry out and cherish. A keepsake of a magical night.
A night that now felt so long ago, even if the rush of emotions was coming at her as if it were yesterday.
They fell into silence as the crowd filled the room and the kids lined up for punch and cookies, groups of girls who hadn’t attended with dates sat at tables chatting, and already some of the couples were on the dance floor, swaying to the music.
“You’re not wearing a corsage tonight,” Kyle eventually said, motioning to her wrist.
She stared at him, unsure of his implication until she saw the glimmer in his eyes as he jutted his chin toward the dance floor.
“Oh.” She stiffened. “No. I mean, aren’t we supposed to be watching the kids?”
Kyle gave a dismissive shrug. “Look at them. What’s the worst thing that can happen? Someone spikes the punch?”
Brooke blinked. “Well, yes, that.”
He laughed. “Come on, Brooke, have a little fun. For old time’s sake.”
She hesitated, knowing that she would have a hard time fighting him off when he was looking at her like that, his grin mischievous and inviting, his fingers waggling her toward him. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but then, when had he ever? When Kyle wanted something, he made it happen.
Which was why it hurt so damn much to think that he hadn’t wanted to stay with her, to come with her to New York, to go through with the plans they had made. Together.
“Just one dance. You did promise me that.”
His arm skimmed hers to take her hand. It felt warm, solid, and achingly familiar. It felt like coming home.
“We promised each other a lot of things,” she said, feeling tense and defensive.
Silence
stretched between them as the band tuned their instruments for the next song, and she could feel the rise and fall of her chest as her heart beat in her chest. There were too many memories in this room, too many good parts of the past that kept pulling her back, to another time and another place.
And maybe this was what he wanted. To think of all the good between them, and not the bad. To hold onto it, rather than let it go.
Or maybe just to enjoy it, one last time.
The band picked up again, and Kyle gave her a lopsided grin. “They’re playing our song.”
“I thought our song was by that British band—” she started to say, but he squeezed her hand tighter.
“Come on, Brooke. What’s one more dance?”
One more, or one last? Suddenly, she didn’t want to know.
“One,” she said firmly. “And only because it beats standing next to the punch bowl, feeling like an old lady.”
“You’re the same age as me!” He laughed.
“You don’t think that’s old to these kids?” she chided.
She waited for him to drop her hand now that she was following him onto the dance floor, but he showed no signs of it, and instead gave her one graceful twirl before wrapping his free hand around her waist and pulling her close.
She blanched. It was their wedding dance. The very entry that they had rehearsed over and over after three lessons at the dance studio, the one that had been greeted with a roar of applause by their friends and family. But the song…the song was familiar, now, as she listened to the words. It was the first song that they had ever danced to, long before prom, when they were still two gangly teens, before everything got complicated.
She closed her eyes and listened to the music, trying not to focus on the beat of Kyle’s heart against her own, on the way his body felt pressed against hers, at the way he sang softly in her ear, just like he had on their wedding night, and every night that they had rehearsed their moves, laughing at first, before falling into a steady rhythm.
She’d been so happy. Life had felt so full. Her entire future felt so certain.
And then…
She pulled away, shaking her head. Kyle stared at her, looking bewildered.
“Is something wrong?”
“Of course something is wrong!” she heard herself snap. “Everything is wrong, Kyle. This is wrong. You and me, dancing like nothing ever happened. Like the past six years never happened. Like I didn’t move away.”
“Like I didn’t stay back,” he finished. His jaw tensed. “Brooke, I didn’t do this to upset you.”
She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, not wanting to make a scene, even if a quick glance around reassured her that none of these kids were looking at the thirty-somethings in the room. They had their own romantic woes to worry about.
She caught herself on that thought. There was no romance left between her and Kyle. That had ended a very long time ago, and it never should have been revisited.
“I need some air,” she said, breaking away from him. She grabbed her clutch, pushing around tables and girls in chiffon dresses, desperate to get out the doors of the gym, this school, maybe even this town.
Her heels were loud in the empty corridor, but the door creaked open loudly behind her, just as she knew it would.
“Why won’t you let this go?” she asked, whipping around to face him. “You and I were over a long time ago.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets, giving her a long, uncertain look. “Because it wasn’t easy to let you go, Brooke. And…I guess it still isn’t.”
He had her there. Managed to snag her breath away. She stared at him, feeling unbalanced and unsure.
“But…you never came after me. You didn’t try to stop me.”
“Is that what you really wanted? For me to tell you not to go?” His expression looked pained. “Going to New York had been your dream. Our dream,” he corrected himself softly. “Just because I had to give it up, didn’t mean you should.”
Her mouth felt dry, and her head was spinning. All this time she’d assumed he’d never supported her, when it turned out, maybe that was never true at all.
But one thing was, she thought, hardening her resolve. “You didn’t have to give it up, Kyle. You chose to give up our dream, our plan.” She swallowed hard. “Us. You chose to give up on us.”
“You think that was easy?” He’d raised his voice, anger pushing through the sadness that hung between them, like a weight that they couldn’t shed. “I didn’t feel I had a choice at the time. I didn’t see another way. I had an obligation.”
“And I wasn’t an obligation? I was your wife.”
“And he was my father!” Kyle ground out.
Brooke closed her mouth. She couldn’t argue with that. And much as it still hurt her now, a part of her also understood it.
“I waited for you, you know,” she said, surprised at herself for admitting this. Once, she had been so mad at Kyle that she couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing just how many nights she’d cried for him, longed for him. Missed him.
And wondered if she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.
“You never called,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t either.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” Kyle said, giving a little grin that showed no amusement.
Her heart felt heavy, thinking of all the time they’d lost. Of all that might have been. Could have been.
And maybe, should have been.
“Why did you never come back to town?” he asked suddenly, looking her square in the eye. “Oh, I heard you stopped through once for a few days. But other than that you stayed away.”
“Because of you!” she cried, exasperated. “Because of this. You and me. And what we had. And because it hurt, Kyle. And it still hurts.”
His gaze was tender and understanding, and she saw her own pain reflected in his eyes as he stepped toward her and slowly took her hand. His skin was warm, smooth, and achingly familiar.
“Kyle,” she whispered, but he looked at her, lacing his fingers through hers, saying nothing, because really, there was nothing to say. They’d said everything. They understood. They didn’t only share a history. They’d shared a loss, too.
He leaned down and kissed her, just like he had a thousand times before, and this time it was no different. It was one effortless, lingering, soft kiss. She’d taken so many of them for granted, assumed that there would always be another. Until there wasn’t. One day, without maybe even realizing it, they’d had their very last kiss.
Until tonight.
She backed away slowly, biting down on her lip, wanting to savor the sensation as much as she knew she should try to forget it. Because oh, she had tried so hard to forget him, these moments. These feelings.
And maybe that was exactly what she should do. Go back to New York. Forget this night ever happened.
And somehow, find a way to forget Kyle again too.
14
Brooke woke Sunday morning to the sound of the birds chirping on the tree outside her open window. Despite the restless sleep she’d had, she couldn’t help but smile. Back in New York, she would have woken to the honking horns of frustrated cab drivers and the wail of sirens. She’d forgotten about the simple pleasures of nature that her hometown offered. She’d forgotten about a lot of things.
Or tried to forget, at least.
She lay in bed for a while as the sunlight filled her room, knowing that she most definitely needed curtains and soon, but not today. No, today she had too much on her mind—all the work she planned to do in her shop to prepare for tomorrow, and of course…
She closed her eyes and replayed the kiss, feeling her heart race as she relived the memory. It had happened, and she wasn’t so sure that she regretted it. And that was…confusing.
Eventually, because she was going to drive herself crazy thinking about last night any longer, she pushed back the duvet and showered and dres
sed for the day. A little fresh air would do her some good, but instead of walking, she decided to try her old bicycle, for old times’ sake. She laughed as she climbed on and began a shaky push down the road, thankful that traffic was light. How long had it been since she’d felt the wind in her face, the rush of gaining speed when she hit a small decline?
She took the path by the lakefront, enjoying the view, and making a promise to herself to get out to Evening Island soon, in time to see the lilacs bloom.
She didn’t make the conscious decision to pedal north and turn onto the gravel road where she’d once lived. The pull of curiosity was nearly as steep as her reservation, but it won out, and before she could change her mind, she’d turned onto the tree-lined street that had drawn her in at first sight, with its small homes tucked behind large oaks and maples.
And there, where the road ended, was her house. Or rather, Kyle’s house.
It was smaller than she’d remembered but neat and tidy with fresh white paint and a dark blue door. She slowed her pace, slanting a glance as she went past, planning to just turn around, and darn it if a squirrel didn’t choose that moment to dash out into the road, startling her and making her jerk her handlebars. Her front tire caught a large rock, forcing the bike to an abrupt stop. Only quick thinking prevented her from toppling to the side, but the brush with the grass twisted her ankle, causing her to yelp in pain.
The front door of the house swung open, and there was Kyle, taking in the scene as he sipped from a mug of coffee.
He looked surprised to see her, but not displeased, and all at once, Brooke knew that this was a bad idea. Something had shifted between them, and it had been so much easier when their relationship was defined, even if it was still murky in the legal sense.
Brooke tried to put some weight on her ankle and winced in pain. There would be no pedaling back to town at this rate, much less walking the bike. Against her better judgment, she said, “Do you have an ice pack?”
