Page 110 of Best Man Speaking

I’d left the plans to show her I care, that there was nothing and no one else for me. Of course, it hadn’t been enough. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. Not for a second.

Julian looks me over. “I thought I told you to fix this. I didn’t have Hallie staying here just so you could make a further mess of her life.”

The dread I feel at being told Hallie’s gone only expands at the look of dislike on Jules’s face.

“I’ve already been to the pool house. This was all I found.” In his hands, he holds the bloodred velvet box containing Hallie’s grandmother’s engagement ring.

My breath whooshes from my chest.

I can’t believe she’d left without it.

That my words and actions had sent her running in such a way.

I think about last night, about how she’d instigated the kiss between us, the fire of desire in her eyes. I couldn’t have been imagining it. But it didn’t mean she loved me, that she’d wanted to hear how I loved her. There’s a terrific chance she’d just been caught up in the moment. Hell, there’s no denying there’s enough physical attraction between us to cause an inferno.

But it doesn’t mean there’d ever be more.

That she would want more with me.

I give myself a mental shake. No. I wouldn’t let her go again without first asking her to stay.

“Where is she?” I ask, flustered, looking for my keys. “How long ago did she leave?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go after her. You could just let her go. Obviously, you’re not good for one another.”

“Excuse me?” I explode, fury running through me, burning through the ice I’d felt previously. My skin steams. I get in my brother’s face for the first time in my life, feeling as if I could do another person physical harm. “You do not get to dictate how hard I try to show her that this is real, that she’s what I want, what I’ve always wanted. You do not get to begrudge me a shot at what you have.”

In an instant, Julian’s demeanor changes completely. He steps away from where we’ve ended up, right in each other’sfaces. A small smirk lifts his lips, and I want to smack it from his face. Brothers.

“Well, thank the Lord. I just needed to make sure you understood that this is the real deal. You’ve always been meant for each other; you just haven’t always been able to see it clearly enough.” He throws me my keys, which he’d apparently been holding hostage. “She’s at the house. By the way, Erica and I are away for the next two nights. I’d like to be able to ‘screw her brains out,’ as you put it ever so delicately. Without any drama, if you can manage it.”

Jules gives me a little fuck-you wave, and I give him my middle finger.

I fucking hate having a brother.

I pull up along the curb of the house I’ve spent so much time coveting, and I’m beyond grateful to see the small black rental car Hallie’s been driving parked in the well-maintained driveway. The knot that’s been in my chest since last night tightens as I make my way across the small lawn and toward the porch, which wraps around the front of the house.

There are no longer any flowering planter pots or outdoor furniture. Everything that’d been placed here for the open-house viewings has since been removed. It’s only the garden itself that remains intact; everything else is simply bare.

Steeling myself, I try the front door. It opens with only a slight creak of tired hinges, easily fixed or replaced, depending on the owner’s preference. The pages I’d grabbed from my desk before running out the door feel a little heavier where I have folded and shoved them into my back pocket.

I only have to hit the entryway before I see her. A large exhale of relief leaves my lungs in awhoosh. Hallie stands in the kitchen behind the wraparound countertop that’s desperately in need of a replacement. Spread out in front of her are the blueprints and plans I’d left for her in the pool house last night. Two takeout coffees hold down the edges of the largest spec sheet. There’s no doubt in my mind that she knows I’m here, that this is what she’d planned all along, but she doesn’t look up, not yet.

I take the chance to drink her in, her dark overalls and the oversized T-shirt she’s wearing beneath them. The oversized top that, on a second perusal, I recognize to be mine.

Knowing she chose to keep something of mine, that she’s worn it today, knowing I’d see her in it, gives way to a little bubble of hope in my chest. It’s small. But it exists.

I like seeing her in my clothes. In this home I’d hoped to be ours. I like it, and I want her to know it.

Finally, she looks at me, and I can tell she hasn’t showered, most likely hasn’t slept since last night. It’s in the tiredness of her eyes, the way her perfectly curled hair has been stacked in a messy bun on her head. She’s unkempt and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Hallie pushes one of the coffee cups toward me, the print it was holding down instantly curling back up in one corner—the floor plan for the attic with its skylights, a place for her to watch the stars from bed. I wonder if she caught a look at the brochure for the heated flooring I’d planned.

“Do you like my plans?” I ask, lifting up the still-warm coffee.

I wonder if Erica had gotten one of her staff to drop them off.

Running her fingers over the counters and across the various images, she replies, “They’re perfect.”

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