I THOUGHT WE AGREED that you had free rein to make these decisions without me,” Seth said, tapping his fingers against his leg as the car made the slow trek through Manhattan traffic.
“No, we agreed you’d back off your micromanagement, not that you’d completely check out of the wedding altogether,” Maya said. Her voice was gentle, but Seth felt the censure there, and it reminded him painfully of Brooke’s parting words a week earlier.
You’re a lot like your hotels. Polished, attractive, efficient, and cold. Cold and soulless.
He glanced across the car at his sister. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . I thought you wanted a bit more freedom without your brother breathing down your neck.”
“Sure, when it comes to the embroidery pattern on my dress. Not when we’re talking about the reception site,” she said. “I just want you to see this place. It feels right, but I want your opinion.”
Seth felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly at Maya’s words. He may not be up for Brother of the Year awards, but he couldn’t be screwing up that badly if his sister cared about what he thought.
“What does Neil think?” he asked, glancing over at her.
His eyes narrowed as she immediately turned her head to look out the window. “He’s been busy.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed even further. “He hasn’t even seen the place?”
“He said he’d meet us there. He trusts me to make the decision. He wants it to be my dream wedding.”
“Sure, but you shouldn’t be having to do this all on your own,” he said quietly.
Maya looked back, her smile genuine. “I’m not. Brooke has been . . . great.”
“She’s paid to be great.”
Maya rolled her eyes. “Such a cynic. I mean she’s been great as a friend. Neil’s been busy, and you’ve been . . . you. Brooke’s just been there.”
Now it was Seth’s turn to look out the window, avoiding Maya’s prying gaze.
“She told me that you haven’t responded to her emails,” she said.
“Nothing to respond to,” he said. “I asked her to keep me informed, and she has. Until she asks me a direct question or says something I don’t like, I have no reason to respond.”
“Sure you do. So you don’t come across as a jerk.”
He flinched, and Maya sighed before punching his shoulder in that light, pesky way only a little sister could. “What is going on with you guys?”
Nothing. Just that we fucked each other sideways, and then I found out the next morning that she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
He settled on something a little vaguer. “Nothing.”
“Right,” Maya said. “So you’re telling me it’s not going to be super awkward when we see her in ten minutes?”
His head jerked back around. “You said she wasn’t going to be there.”
Maya smiled serenely. “I lied, obviously.”
His head dropped back against the headrest. He felt her studying his face. “Maya. Don’t.”
“Come on, don’t be mad,” Maya said. “I know something is going on between you two, and I was worried you’d say no if you thought she’d be there, and I really need help making this decision.”
Seth’s eyes closed and he tried to focus on something—anything—other than seeing Brooke in the immediate future. “Okay, tell me about the place.”
Maya gave the dreamy sigh he now thought of as her “bridal” sigh. It happened whenever she talked about rose petals or ribbons or potential locations.
“It’s in this old office building that they’re just now finishing renovating. The entire building’s been vacant for years, but they’re getting ready to reopen, and Brooke got the inside track, found out that the upper floors haven’t yet been outfitted as offices, so it’s just this big open space with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s prewar, and the crown molding is just . . . gah . . . you’re going to love it.”
He gave her a look. “I’m going to love the crown molding?”
“Yes. Yes you are. And the fireplaces, too. They’re not working, obviously, but Brooke has all these great ideas about how we can put up varying candle heights, create the illusion of a bursting flame—”
“Sounds like a fire hazard,” he muttered.
“Whatever, we’ll get flameless candles.” Maya pointed a finger at him. “Don’t try to take this away from me just because you have blue balls.”
“I don’t have blue balls. Also, I’m pretty sure that phrase goes against every sibling conversational code.”
She pursed her lips and sat up straighter, looking out the window. “We’re almost there. And Seth?” He looked at her, noticing the serious note in her voice. “You don’t have to love this just because I do. I want your honest opinion. But just . . . if you could try to be . . . just act, like . . .”
“Like I have a soul.”
Her nose scrunched. “I was going to say agreeable. Jesus, so morbid. Who gave you the idea you didn’t have a soul?”
Your damned wedding planner, that’s who.
Instead of answering, he jerked his chin the direction of her door. “Looks like we’re here.”