I follow his sight line to the small crowd milling around the patio, an elaborate three-level stone construct. Sure enough, my brother is hovering over one of the waiters who carries a silver platter, filling his hands with appetizers two at a time while he gawks openly at Misty a few feet away. Wearing that same stupid love-struck grin he had on when he was fourteen and met her for the first time.
Misty’s eyes aren’t on him, though. She’s too busy trying to make her way over to Brett and me now that the interviews are over. But by the looks of it, she won’t have a chance. Lou has one hand on her shoulder and a scolding expression on her face, while Misty is smiling and arguing politely. I know them too well, even from a hundred feet away. Lou’s insisting that Brett and I have a chance to talk, and Misty is determined to undermine her. Then Lou points to the parking lot where Leroy is waiting and Misty’s hopeful face falls. As usual, Lou has won. I’m guessing Misty is his ride and they need to get back to Diamonds for the Sunday dinner rush.
“You can talk to them tomorrow,” Keith says, taking off at a swift pace before I can take a step.
Leaving me alone with Brett for the first time today.
Breathing in deeply, I wander over to the gazebo, a white lattice structure crawling with clematis vines, the backdrop for countless wedding photos, I’m sure. Today, we used the space as a quiet location for a few pictures and brief interviews with three of the local newspapers and a Philadelphia paper.
“Thought you were never doing an interview again?” Brett teases, his gaze drifting over my frame as I gingerly climb the steps, hiking my dress a few inches to avoid tripping over the hem.
“I thought so, too, but Puppet Master Keith decided differently.”
Brett chuckles and gazes out at Jasper Lake, allowing me the chance to study his handsome profile. He’s seated on a bench and leaning against one of the thick posts, his suit jacket removed and draped casually over the rail. It’s the perfect position to show off his fit body, and the faintest sheen of sweat that glistens from his forehead adds to his allure. “I’m glad they chose this location. It’s nice. Peaceful.”
“I haven’t been here since I was six, but it hasn’t changed much. I’ve never been to an event in there, though.” I ease myself down on the bench next to him, trying not to be obvious as I inhale the lingering scent of his cologne that I adore.
Brett’s eyes shift to my lap, to the ornate key within my grasp.
“Need a big gold key?” I joke, holding it out in the air. I guess it’s the thought that counts, but I’m still trying to figure out what it really means to me—beyond being just a decorative ornament. My name is engraved in the side, in beautiful cursive font, along with the date.
“My mother’s going to be jealous. She’s always wanted one of those.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Your mother has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And, what is it . . . three Oscars now?”
He grins. “But not a big gold key.”
“Tell her it takes time and a lot of hard work.”
His responding chuckle somehow makes me giddy. “She said she’s really sorry she couldn’t make it. She was trying, but they added another week of filming and she couldn’t take off again. Plus, she didn’t want this turning out to be about her, which it inevitably would have had she shown up.”
I had noticed the curious glances and wondered if half of those in attendance had accepted the invitation with the hope that Meryl Price might be there. “That’s kind of her, even to consider it.”
“My sister was going to come, too. She had a ticket booked. But she got a callback for a second audition that she can’t miss.”
“For what?”
“I can’t remember.” He frowns. “Some new HBO series, I think? Anyway, I know she’s really hoping to get this one.”
“HBO. Wow. That’s . . . big.” Not quite as big as my shift at Diamonds tomorrow morning.
Brett’s gaze travels over the small crowd. “I’m glad your family came.”
“Yeah, me, too. Surprised, really. But they all came. Even my sister. And of course Misty, and my boss and her husband . . .” It was a front row of broad smiles. There was a time when I didn’t believe that I had so many people to support me.
He hesitates. Brett must have figured out that my past with my family is a minefield. I sense the questions brewing. “When Keith called to ask me if I’d come, we talked a bit.”
“Oh, yeah?” Of course Keith would have been the one to call him. “About what?”
“About you and your family.” Brett watches me warily. “About what happened between you guys.”
“Things were different. I wasn’t easy.” I instantly feel defensive, although I’m not entirely sure whether it’s on behalf of me or my family.
“I’m not judging you, Cath. Or them,” Brett quickly says, his voice soft. “I just wanted to know what happened, that’s all. Maybe it’ll help me understand you a little bit more.”
There’s a long pause, long enough to allow tension to grow.
“So your brother plays for Minnesota?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “He also has a crush on you.” So does my best friend.
And I’m . . . I take a deep breath and, pushing aside my own feelings, tell Brett about Jack—how much he loves hockey, his scholarship, the tattoo on his bicep. Brett lets me ramble on about my little brother without interruption, without any glint of awkwardness in his eyes, simply smiling, his eyes roaming my features until I find myself flushing from the intensity of his gaze.
“I guess he’ll find some use for those season tickets Sid gave you, then?”
I chuckle, remembering the dumbstruck expressions on both Jack’s and my dad’s faces when Sid Durrand announced that the Flyers would be awarding me two lower-level season tickets for the next twenty-five years as a small token of their appreciation. “I’m going to be getting a lot of free babysitting thanks to those. Not that Jack won’t get the most use out of them anyway, seeing as I’d feel like a fraud if I said I was a hockey fan. I didn’t even know who you were until a month ago.” And now you’ve become a permanent fixture in my thoughts, despite every attempt to distance myself.
“I’m just glad you didn’t refuse to accept them.”
Which reminds me . . . “I paid my parents back for the Escape.”
“Good. That’s why I left the money.” No mention of my rambling voice message to him.
“You left way too much. I’m going to give it—”
“No.”
“But I—”
“No, Cath.” He counters the sudden sharpness of that one word with a dimpled smile. “Don’t bother arguing with me. I’ve got a lot of spare time on my hands to fight you and I promise you, I’ll win one way or another.” Brett adjusts his position on the bench.
I catch the wince that he tries to cover.
I let the topic of money slide. For now. “How’s your leg?”
“Itchy as hell, but I think staying off it for the past two weeks helped a lot.”
“You mean your doctor was right? Who knew?”
He treats me to that grin of his, though I can see a hint of sadness in his eyes.
I hesitate. “When do you think you’ll be playing again?”
“Depends on how my ankle heals. I’ll be in this cast for a few weeks at least, until they think it’s safe to swap it for a walking cast. Then it’ll be another few months of that with a ton of physical therapy.”