“We should meet in the conference room,” Velma suggested, changing the subject.
“Works for me.” Brek followed her down the hall.
Aspen had decked out the meeting space in everything bridal—from the long white conference table with matching chairs and the fuzzy peach carpet, to the faux flower arrangements decorating one wall next to thick catalogs hawking everything from wedding stationary to veils. She had added wickless candles scented with essential lavender and vanilla oils, so the place smelled like a fancy spa.
“Sophie really didn’t say what she wanted?” Velma straightened the chairs. Neither of them had heard a word from Sophie or Troy following the disastrous almost-wedding, until she’d called Brek yesterday to ask for a meeting.
He’d asked Velma to come along.
“Nope.” Brek sat and leaned his chair back so the top of it touched the wall, his fingers linked behind his scalp, elbows wide. He was so going to crack his head and need stitches.
Velma dropped the pen on the notepad. Her stomach turned at the thought of how Sophie and Troy’s wedding had gone sour. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for her part in it. She hadn’t been vindictive, but she also hadn’t thought about the effect her words would have on a skittish bride on her wedding day.
“Is everything ready for theRosettephoto shoot?” Velma asked.
“Yup.” A full day of scruff peppered his face since he hadn’t taken time to shave before they’d left the apartment. Scruffy-sexy suited him.
His phone buzzed. He glanced to it, frowned, and tapped out a message.
“Everything okay?” Velma asked.
“Ma’s having a rough day. It’s the anniversary of my dad’s car accident. Doesn’t get easier for her.”
The knots in Velma’s stomach multiplied. “What happened?”
“I was seven. Aspen was three. Dad had a heart attack driving me to baseball practice. He swerved. The other car didn’t. Aspen and I made it. He...” He shook his head.
Velma suspected something had happened to his father, but it had never been her place to ask. Men ran off all the time. She figured that was what had happened. Death had never crossed her mind. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Me, too.” Muscles in Brek’s jaw skipped; his teeth ground together.
She crossed her legs toward him, her heart breaking for the boy he had been. A kid whose life had changed on the way to a baseball game. “Were you guys okay?”
“I was.” He dropped his elbows to his thighs. “Aspen shattered her pelvis and broke her leg.” His words held a raw edge she had never heard from him before. “This day always brings up stuff that shouldn’t be brought up.”
“By stuff, you mean feelings?”
He grunted.
“Is that why you run?” She figured a guy didn’t run from a family he loved as much as Brek cared for his unless something had spooked him.
“I don’t run,” he huffed.
He totally ran. “I’ll rephrase. Is that why you avoid Denver?”
“Is this the part where you turn into a shrink?” he muttered.
The jingle of the front door signaled the start of their meeting.
He wiped a hand down his face. “Showtime.” He stood.
“Why am I so nervous about this?” Velma’s voice shook.
“’Cause last time we saw ’em, you were wearin’ my shirt as a dress,” he replied, heading for the reception area.
Velma rose and smoothed her pink wool skirt, adjusting the high waistband where she had tucked a cream blouse. Brek, ever the creature of habit, wore his uniform of ripped jeans and a worn T-shirt that showcased his biceps and stretched across his pecs.
She hurried after him to find SophieandTroy. They held hands. Hope that they could salvage their relationship bloomed in Velma’s chest.
