Dean glanced to Brek, then Velma, then back to Brek. “Velma, you should go find Claire. Make sure she’s good.”
She grabbed a sticky note from the projector cart and wrote her password on it,BrekenridgeMontgomery, and handed it to Dean.
She shrugged the strap of the duffle bag, full of her emergency wedding supplies, over her shoulder. With as much dignity as she could muster in her too-tight maid-of-honor dress, Velma went to find her sister.
Onward. Forward. Except…Brek.
Sometimes the hard thing isn’t to run. It’s to stay.
Velma stopped midstride and gripped the gaudy purple fabric on one of the chairs—she had to fix things with him. No matter what, she couldn’t run away.
With all the effort she had, she laid her bag on the nearest table and pressed her fingertips against her eyes.
She glanced to Brek, but he wore a strange look on his face and wouldn’t meet her gaze. His expression remained solid. The sting of the situation covered her like a thick serum of bull crap.
“Brek?”
His eyes flared. He shook his head before walking out with Dean right behind him. Dean gave her a sympathetic look and shook his head lightly.
Velma had never felt more incompetent in her entire life.
Someone cleared their throat. Velma looked behind her.
“Well…” Pops shoved his hand through what was left of his hair and grimaced. Claire and Heather stood beside him, their expressions unreadable.
Tears that had threatened before started to leak from the corners of Velma’s eyes. She brushed them aside with her knuckles. “I’ve messed everything up with him.”
Pops smelled of the spicy cologne he always wore as he rubbed her back in that awkward way of his.
“How much did you see?” She collapsed onto a chair and dropped her elbows to her knees.
“Enough.” He sat beside her and leaned forward, his hands folded in his lap.
“Pretty much everything.” Heather’s words were soft. Sympathetic.
“I thought you stopped using the spreadsheets?” Claire pulled out a chair and sat.
Heather followed suit. “Why’d you rank Brek? And at a four?”
“And Dean? Why did you put him there?” Claire asked.
Velma wiped away more tears and threw up her hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Let’s start at the beginning, then,” Pops said with the patience of a man who had conducted countless counseling sessions over the years.
She told them everything. Including her old crush on Dean. Minus the part about the things Brek had done to her on the back of a motorcycle.
Pops sat silent for a few beats.
“You never said anything about liking Dean.” Claire’s words were delicate. “I never would’ve dated him if I’d known.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m glad I didn’t tell you. You two are perfect for each other. But I still don’t know how to fix things with Brek.” The spreadsheet was wrong. Like always. Numbers would never account for feelings.
“You see things in black and white, but you’ve got to change that. The rainbow has a multitude of colors. Just because Brek doesn’t measure up to a silly standard you created doesn’t mean he’s wrong for you.” Pops’s eyebrows drew together thoughtfully. “Doesn’t mean he’s right for you, either. But the only way to see that for sure is to openyoureyes. They’ve been closed awhile now.”
Pops was wrong. Brek had opened her eyes. She’d just pinched them shut again when things got hard.
“I’ve ruined everything.” Her shoulders drooped further.
