Christine flinched.“She’s going to think that you opted to take someone else if you don’t invite her.”
Brooke chugged her glass of wine. She was going to need something, a lot of something, stronger than a Pinot Grigio if she was ever going to muster the courage to ask Anna Fourchette to go to England with her as her date. When the maitre d’returned to fill her glass she simply asked him for a gin and tonic instead.
Brooke was two drinks past tipsy as the night rolled to an end. She still hadn’t asked Anna. Shehadcomplimented the chef probably gratuitously for her delicious chicken, but she hadn’t figured out how to get the words out, and now, servers were flipping the other table’s chairs up onto their clean tops. They had stayed past close. Realizing this, they quickly paid their tabs and left generous tips.
“Thanks for always coming in on Mondays,” Anna said to the trio as they all stood to leave.
Christine kicked Brooke in the shin.“Now,” she whispered through gritted teeth. She and Vivienne very obviously headed towards the exit, giving Brooke and Anna privacy.
Brooke nodded.“Right.” She stepped back towards the kitchen and wiped her palms on the sides of her navy pants.“Um, Anna?”
Anna immediately stopped what she was doing and came to stand directly in front of Brooke on the opposite side of the half-wall. She was a few inches shorter than Brooke, so she looked up, her dark brown eyes searching Brooke’s face.“Yeah, Brooke?” she asked, smiling softly.
Brooke swallowed nervously.“So, um, we were talking. My friends and I, and you see, the thing is… You’re the most attractive woman I know.” Brooke blinked several times and shook her head.“I’m sorry. I might be drunk.” She took a deep breath and tried again, not letting herself get distracted by the dusting of pink that had spread across Anna’s cheeks.“What I mean is… I was wondering if you would, perchance, happen to be willing to accompany me to my brother’s wedding? I wouldn’t want to cause problems between you and your boyfriend. And I promise my question has no ulterior motive. I don’t, by any means, intend to make a pass at you, nor would I expect any sort of displays of affection. I simply”–Brooke shrank in on herself as the reality of all of the pain her parents had caused washed over her all at once– “I just… honestly don’t want to face them alone. My family is a disaster and I am likely to be a disheveled mess for the entire trip and it would require nearly four nights of your time and you have to have a passport ready to go. But I would obviously cover flights and facilitate an appropriate wardrobe and would brace you for the nightmare that you would be in store for. Because I promise you, my family is a chore and a half, but I would forever be in your debt and would appreciate it from the depths of my heart.”
Anna bit her bottom lip and looked up at Brooke, clearly studying her face. She stuffed her hands in her apron pockets immediately and nervously, looked around her restaurant.“I need to get to know you better before we take off if we’re really going to sell it.”
Brooke’s eyes widened.“Is that a yes?”
Anna broke into a wide smile as she nodded.“Yeah, I’m in.”
Brooke let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.“You’re genuinely a lovely person. And friend,” she added, hoping to reassure Anna that she wasn’t going to try anything unbecoming during the trip.
Anna wiggled her hands around her apron to dig in the front pocket of her black slacks and produced her cell phone.“Here, put your number in my phone. We’ve got some planning to do.”
Chapter Two:
Brooke woke up with a pounding headache. The turn of events from last night had her head spinning, or maybe that was the insane amount of alcohol she had consumed. She padded into her entryway and picked up her cellphone. She couldn’t believe that she had asked Anna to go to England with her. She was even more surprised that Anna had said yes. Upon unlocking her phone, she saw more notifications on her home-screen than she’d ever had before. Her heart warmed when the first notification she saw was from her brother. She clicked into the message as she stumbled into her kitchen. She needed caffeine and fast. Her brother had texted her all of his wedding information and a picture of the invitation. He was grown. Logically, she knew that. He was getting married, but seeing a photo of him was completely different to hearing it in his voice and thinking about how much she had aged in her own right.
As a grown up, Nathaniel Kent looked so much like Brook herself, it was a bit disorienting. He had the same dark hair, the same tawny skin, the same golden brown eyes. Nathaniel’s similarly sharp jaw was neatly lined with a well kept beard, which Brooke herself did not sport, but the familiar resemblance was uncanny. She was slightly above average in height herself, and Nate looked even taller, still.
The woman with him, Melanie, his soon to be wife and Brooke’s soon to be sister-in-law, was beautiful.
The most important thing about their wedding announcement, however, was that they both looked so incredibly happy and in love.
A lump lodged itself in Brooke’s throat. She sat her phone down so that she could fill her tea kettle with water and get it heating on the stove. While she waited for it to boil, she clicked into her regular text messages. Vivienne had checked on her, Christine had congratulated her again for securing Anna as a date, and a number that she didn’t have saved into her phone had sent her several messages as well. Brooke’s heart stopped beating. It couldn’t be. By seven in the morning? Anna didn’t exactly strike Brooke as an early riser, but then again, Brooke didn’t know much about the woman. She knew a few things, scraps of information from overheard conversations, bits and pieces parsed together from questions Christine and Vivienne had asked when Brooke hadn’t been able to form a sentence, and other things, subtler things, information that could only be gathered by observation. Things like the fact that she seemed to work better under pressure, the way her laugh lit up the entire restaurant, the way that she was incredibly kind to her wait staff and line cooks. Simply put, she was lovely. And now she was sending Brooke text messages.
Brooke quickly saved her contact information before letting herself read past the first,“Hey, it’s Anna :),” text.
Anna Fourchette (6:54 am):
Good morning, Sunshine.
Anna Fourchette (6:55 am):
Last night you said you’d be
in a tux, so here are all the
dresses I own.
Anna had then proceeded to send Brooke photos of all types of dresses. Photos. Anna Fourchette had sent Brooke photos. The dresses she sent pictures of were nice and would do for any occasion that a normal person would have to attend, but this was different. This was a Kent wedding. And nice dresses simply weren’t enough for a Kent wedding.
Anna Fourchette (7:06 am):
Are any of them fancy enough?
Brooke took a steadying breath. She was about to text Anna Fourchette back. Her heart pounded in her chest. Text would be easier, she thought as she waited for her tea kettle to whistle. She could process and think sentences through before responding via text. That realization gave her comfort. So much so that she was able to type back a response.
