She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that. And I definitely shouldn’t have said that thing about you being soulless. It was cruel, and I’m not . . . that’s not usually me. Know that. Please tell me you know that.”
His blue eyes searched her face, and though she tried desperately to read through the mask, she had zero idea what he was thinking just then.
And then he pulled away. Slowly. Gently. But a rejection all the same.
“Show me the rest of the place,” he said quietly, turning back to the large, empty space behind them.
“Right.” Brooke blew out a breath. This was why they were here, after all.
So he hadn’t accepted her apology, but he hadn’t outright rejected it, either. She supposed that was something.
“You’ll have to use your imagination,” she said, putting her shoulders back and chin up and trying to get back into a professional headspace. “But as you can see, it’s plenty big should Maya and Neil opt for the larger wedding, but if they decide to go more intimate, it’ll be easy to partition off some of the space, give it a more intimate feel.”
“How is Neil these days?” Seth asked as he clasped his hands behind his back and began walking around the perimeter of the room.
Brooke gave a little smile as she followed after him, the click of her heels echoing softly. “You mean has he tried to stuff your sister in the trunk of the car, or stolen money from her wallet, or shown up to a tux fitting with three other wives in tow?”
Seth gave her a look. “Your email reports have barely mentioned him, which, as you’ll remember, is the entire reason I wanted the reports in the first place.”
“Honestly,” Brooke said, “I’ve barely seen the guy. Maya said he’s been busy with work, and other than when we toured this particular facility for the first time, he’s more or less left it up to us women.”
“What did he think of this?” Seth asked, his eyes looking around, taking in every detail.
“He liked it, but then, as far as I can tell, Neil tends to like everything Maya likes. She could say she wanted to get married on a rowboat in the Hudson, and he’d think it was the best idea ever.”
“Or at least he’d say he thought it was the best idea ever.”
“Right,” Brooke said patiently. “Because that’s what fiancés do. I know you’ve still got your big brother cape on, but Neil’s behavior is pretty standard for grooms. They walk a fine line. Even the sweetest, easiest of brides can get a bit touchy with the groom and his level of involvement in the planning. If he doesn’t have any opinions, he’s disinterested. If he has too many, he’s difficult.”
Seth stopped and turned toward one of the windows. “It still doesn’t feel right.”
“It may never feel right to see your sister get married,” Brooke said quietly.
“You’re probably right,” he muttered.
“What I wouldn’t give to have recorded that,” she said lightly. “Is there anything else you want to see? I can show you the bathrooms. They’re gorgeously remodeled, and there’s this marble that’s just, well, you’ll have to see it.”
He turned back toward her, and the gentle look on his face caught her off guard. “I’ll take your word for it on the bathrooms.”
“Fine, fine, miss out on the gorgeous faucets they selected. I mean, they’re fabulous, but now you’ll have something to look forward to when you come back for the actual wedding.”
“So you think this is the place?”
“That’s up to Maya,” she hedged. “And Neil. But if it were my wedding, this would be my place.”
“Why?”
Typical dude question, and Brooke didn’t have an immediate answer. Instead she took her time, walking in idle circles before turning back.
“I have no idea.”
Seth laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
“It’s just like a feeling, you know? Like when you move to a new city or neighborhood and walk into a restaurant and know it’s going to be your place. Or when you’re house hunting, and you step through the front doors after seeing dozens of ‘meh’ and you just know.”
“Is that how you picked your current apartment?” he asked.
“Eh. Not really. I mean, I like it, don’t get me wrong, but I picked it out of practicality of needing a place to live more than anything else. It’s not my forever home.”
“At least it’s more permanent than a hotel,” he said, his gaze level.
Crap. Once more she was reminded of the fact that in the last conversation they’d had, she’d compared him to a hotel building. “I actually didn’t criticize it, but you seem to think I should . . .” she said. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with where you live. And if it makes you happy—that’s what counts, right?”
“If it makes me happy,” he repeated slowly, precisely, as though this were a new concept. “Indeed.”