Page 33 of Break Out

Twenty-five minutes later, he pokes his head into the bathroom, where I’m fixing my hair, and catches my eye in the mirror. “Am I dressed okay?” he asks, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

I turn around and take him in. He’s wearing a light-blue short-sleeve button-down shirt, a pair of khaki shorts that cling to his thighs, and brown shoes. His hair is messy like he’s shoved his hand through it a hundred times, which he probably has. But I like it that way.

“Yes.” My voice comes out breathy, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “It’s fine.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and I don’t miss the heated look he gives me, his eyes sweeping down my body.

My cheeks heat at his blatant perusal and compliment. I glance down at the sleeveless lavender sundress I chose for brunch. It’s super lightweight, a must for the islands, and lands just above my knees. Not my usual style, but I knew it would be Mother approved.

“Thanks. It’s new. I got it for this trip. Along with a couple of others,” I ramble, waving my hand at the closet. “You look nice yourself. If I didn’t say that earlier.”

“Thank you. You ready?” Brody asks, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets and watching me from the doorway.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror, satisfied with my hair half pinned up, the minimal makeup I applied, and my dress, and shut off the light.

“Let’s go,” I say, walking toward the door. He follows behind me, and it’s not until we’re on the elevator that he speaks.

“I’ll be right there with you the entire time.”

“Huh?” I ask, glancing up at him.

“You’re nervous. You’ve fixed your hair three times already. That’s what you do when you’re nervous.” He gestures toward my hair.

I blink at him a couple of times, my hands frozen on my hair clip. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I let go of the clip and stare down at the floor, wishing I had something to do with my hands. If only this dress had pockets.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Brody reaches for me and intertwines our fingers. I take a deep breath as the doors open and we step out into the lobby. We follow the signs toward the ballrooms, where brunch is taking place. If I remember correctly, all of Chet’s family will be here, plus most of the wedding party, and a small portion of the guests.

We step into the ballroom where there are a bunch of tables set up in the middle covered in light pink tablecloths, each with a bouquet of roses as centerpieces. The chairs are covered in white slipcovers. Yes, that’s a thing—I learned about it during this whole wedding process.

Three long tables at the opposite side of the room are covered in food trays, and there’s a crowd of people serving themselves. Easels are set up around the edges of the room displaying poster-sized pictures from Clara and Chet’s engagement photo shoot. Thankfully, we’re not the last family members to arrive. I haven’t seen Bri and her family here yet. Although I’m sure my mother would give her a pass for being late because she has a baby.

“Come on. Let’s get food.” Brody gestures toward the buffet.

“Oh no. Not yet,” I say with a shake of my head.

“Why not? There are people eating.” He points to a group of people seated in the middle of the room.

“They’re not family,” I mumble, recognizing some of the guests as Clara’s friends and their husbands. “Mother expects the family to eat last. Be the perfect hosts.”

Brody scoffs at me. “Seriously?”

Before I can answer, one of the waiters carrying a tray of champagne walks over to us, and I grab a glass, gulping it down quickly before setting it on one of the tables. Can’t have my mother seeing me with a glass of champagne. Brody asks about coffee. The waiter points to a drink station in the corner.

“Ah, there you are, Aubrey Elizabeth. You’re late,” Mother says, coming over to me with my stepfather, Arthur, trailing behind her. Brody stiffens next to me. I shake my head a tiny bit and hope he sees.

“Mother.”

“Aubrey, girl,” Arthur says, stepping around my mother and putting his arms out. I drop Brody’s hand and step into his embrace.

I don’t know how Arthur puts up with my mother because he is the total opposite of her. Where she’s cold and calculated, he’s warm and loving. The only thing they have in common is the business. Arthur was one of my father’s business partners and the CFO, a role he still has today. Bri thinks they’re only married on paper and don’t actually spend any time together. They didn’t get married until I was in grad school, a year after my father died, and since I avoid family get-togethers as much as possible I haven’t been around them much to form an opinion.

Stepping out of Arthur’s embrace, I turn to Brody. “Brody, this is my stepfather, Arthur. Arthur, this is—“

Arthur interrupts me, letting out a bark of laughter. “Brody Thompson? Forward for the Orlando Storm. It’s a pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan.”

Chapter fifteen

Brody