Page 16 of It Happened Again

“I cannot believe you spy on him.”

“This isn’t about me. This is a night for good cheese, bad TV, and reminding yourself that any man who’s not actively fighting to win you is not the hero of your story.”

I smiled. “Did you just quote yourself?”

“Damn right I did. It’s going in my future book. Wine & Whine: Real Talk for the Heartbroken.”

I laughed so hard, wine almost shot through my nose. “Enough about me for now. Weren’tyousupposed to be on a date tonight?” I asked.

Barefoot, comfy, and slathering cream cheese on a cracker, I listened to her tale about the dinner she had with a new guy while she performed dramatic reenactments of his irritating eating habits, including chomping every bite with his mouth open.

“I figured out pretty quickly how emotionally attached he was to his fantasy football draft when he constantly interacted with his phone. I need a man rooted in reality, so I left, okay?”

I snorted, nearly choking on my rosé. “You always make me feel better about my own nonexistent love life.”

“That’s what besties are for,” she said, flopping back onto the couch. “Look, what you need is to find a way to talk to Brooks. And soon. Because you either deserve closure on the past or a window on the future. You have his number still? Text him.” She shrugged like it’d be nothing after all this time to pick up our last round of texts, like old friends.

“I’m not texting him tonight. I’m tired and the wine is hitting me. Texting now would be a recipe for disaster. Think I’ll go to bed.” I picked up the board and our glasses and returned them to the kitchen, my mind shutting down fast, in need of sleep. I stopped and hugged her on the couch on the way to my room. “Thank you, bestie, for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Love ya, babe.”

A few minutes later, cozy in my blankets and phone in hand, I couldn’t help but scroll through my old texts with Brooks, all of which I saved. Some of my favorites were from the night of Chelsea’s wedding, where I came back for Christmas break from the ship to be her maid of honor. I avoided him all night, besides he’d brought a date. That didn’t stop him from texting me throughout the reception; our eyes frequently met across the crowded ballroom.

After the wedding, I found him leaning against my hotel room door, waiting for me…

“Oh, Brooks,” I moaned, and I set my phone back on the stand, then turned on my side. Hugging a body pillow hardly replaced the heat of his body next to mine.

Every second of that sexy night played out like a movie in my head. All the dirty things he’d whispered into my ear, so sexy and smooth.But all the angst in our words over my leaving again the next day, back to the ship, put another crack in my heart.

Brooks and I could have had something great once, but we kept pushing it away. Now we were both back in the same city, older, wiser… If we continued running into each other, I doubted I could deny this thing between us much longer.

7

THAT WEDDING NIGHT

MAISY

The Past: Eight months after spring break

The night of Chelsea’s Christmas wedding.

Chelsea and Rex’swedding ceremony and reception became the gold standard of my wedding expectations. But it was over, and an exhausting day. In the elevator, alone, I sagged against the wall, finally able to relax my tense shoulders. Throughout the reception, I kept hyper vigilant to Brooks’ whereabouts at all times. Often, our eyes met across the room and it exhausted me pretending not to be affected by his silent attention.

I did a great job of keeping away from him tonight, or maybe he did a splendid job of keeping away from me. Either way, it was for the best. Besides, he brought a woman with him as his plus one. Archer’s date’s sister, though she meant nothing to him, according to what Rex told Chelsea.

I acted like I cared less and danced the night away with anyone not named Brooks Bellamy. When I needed a break, I kept myself useful to Miriam, doing her bidding, whatever she needed me to do to ensure the reception went off without a hitch for my sister, no matter how inconsequential the task.

Brooks texted me at one point, though, and while the elevator climbed higher to my floor, I thumbed back through the messages once again, reading every word.

Brooks: You’re fucking gorgeous tonight.

Brooks: It hurts like hell to look at you.

Maisy: Then don’t.

Brooks: Hard to avoid when you’re the only woman in the room I see.

Brooks: Meet me in the bar for a drink. Let’s talk.

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