“Because I love her,” he argued.
Brooke shook her head. “That’s not love.”
Seth froze. Her words were a carbon copy of what Grant had said to him a couple of weeks earlier. Two of the people he cared about most were telling him verbatim that he didn’t know how to love.
That he didn’t even know what love was.
And damn it . . . damn it, but it hurt. It tore at his soul like a savage beast out for blood. Because right now he didn’t feel like a man who couldn’t love.
He felt like a man whose every fiber was filled with love for a person who was standing there looking at him with disdain and pity.
Well, screw this. Screw her. Brooke thought he was heartless? He’d show her what stone-cold really looked like.
“And I suppose you do know what love is,” he struck out. “You’ve experienced it in all its lovey-dovey glory?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be embarrassed or ashamed. Good for her. “Yes. I did.”
“With Clay,” he said, stepping forward.
Brook hesitated just a second too long before nodding. “Yes. He and I didn’t end well for obvious reasons, and he was . . . he was not a good person. I don’t doubt for one second that he did care about me. He did know how to love, because I felt it.”
“Yeah?” Seth asked cruelly. “Then maybe you can tell me why he’s engaged to another woman.”
Brooke didn’t move. Not even to blink. “What?” Her voice wobbled, and she cleared her throat. “What?” she asked again, more clearly this time.
For a moment, Seth panicked, wanting to take his words back more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. To go back thirty seconds, hell, go back thirty minutes, and quit acting like an idiotic defensive animal in pain, lashing out like a moron. He was more evolved than this, surely.
But the words were out there now, and he couldn’t take them back. Wasn’t even sure he wanted to, because he’d need to confess sometime, and it might as well be now, when she was already hating his guts. Maybe if he ripped off the Band-Aid all at once, he’d still have a chance.
“How the hell would you know . . . oh my God.” Brooke was staring at him in miserable understanding. “Your private investigator. You had him look into Clay, too.”
Seth nodded.
“Unbelievable,” she spat out. “You really think you can control people the way you do your business. You really equate your power trips with affection.”
“I won’t apologize for trying to protect you,” he said woodenly.
“What about Maya? Are you going to apologize to her?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly. “And she’ll be mad for a while, but at least she won’t marry the guy.”
“So you get everything you want,” Brooke said quietly. “Everything’s exactly as you want it, all tidy and in order as it should be, according to Seth.”
“Not everything.” Seth was swift to correct, reaching toward her and dropping his hand when she stepped back. “I won’t have everything I want if you walk out that door, Brooke.”
He held her eyes, begging her to understand, and for a second he saw something flicker, and he felt hope swell hot and potent through his veins.
“You don’t get it, Seth,” she said, her voice rising. “You really don’t get it. You understand, right, that what you did is no different from what Clay did? More legal, maybe, but you hid the truth from me just like he did. You let me believe you were something you’re not. You hurt me, Seth. Just like he did. Maybe worse.”
His heart felt like it was being ripped in two. “Brooke, no, it wasn’t like that. I just wanted . . . needed to know that you were okay.”
“It’s not always about what you need!” she shouted. “You tell yourself that you’re acting for the sake of those you care about, but you’re only out to protect yourself. This is about you and your selfish compulsion to control everything around you, so don’t for one minute expect me to believe you actually care.”
“I do care,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “You’ve made me believe that the happy endings do exist, and I wanted—”
“Stop,” she interrupted. “Stop right there. Happily ever after does exist. I won’t let you take that belief away from me. But Seth, my happily ever after is not with you. Let’s be very clear on that.”
She turned away, and his eyes closed in silent misery.
She was halfway to the door before he could find any more words. “Would it help if I told you why I did it?” he asked desperately to her retreating back. “If I told you why I asked the detective to look into Clay?”
Brooke paused but didn’t turn around. Waiting.
It was because I love you.
But by the time he finally uttered the words out loud to his cavernous office, Brooke was long gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
BROOKE? YOU’RE STILL HERE?”
“Yep,” Brooke called out in response, not glancing up from her computer screen as she perused Pinterest for ideas on her latest client’s vision for a wine-and-cheese-tasting-themed bridal shower party.
Sounded right up her alley.