Page 148 of Save the Date
Brooke’s head bent over the ladybug, who was beetling her way up her wrist.
“We had another fight about the bachelor party Friday morning, before I left for work. Harris offered not to go—said he’d stay home if it was going to make me that upset. Which made me even angrier. I knew all the guys would blamemeif Harris didn’t go, and they’d say he was pussy-whipped.”
“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Cara said.
“He sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers at work Friday, with the sweetest note, apologizing again and telling me how much he loved me.” Brooke’s face softened.
“He sent you flowers from another florist?” Cara said indignantly.
“He’s a guy. I’m sure he got his secretary to send the flowers,” Brooke said. “Anyway, so then I was feeling guilty about making him feel guilty, but I was still dreading going out. And then that text came Saturday afternoon. And I saw those pictures of him—with that woman—riding him—with her boobs pushed up in his face.…”
“I saw the pictures too, Brooke. He was drunk. So drunk he passed out in the van afterward.”
“Harris told you that? Is he the one who told you the pictures were on Facebook?” She buried her head in her arms. “Did everybody in Savannah see them?”
“Layne, your caterer, saw them, and she sent me the link. Harris deleted the pictures as soon as he found out his friend Mike Bingham had posted them. Brooke? Did you ever figure out who texted you with the Facebook link?”
“No.” She looked up. “I deleted it afterward. Does it matter? Somebody would have told me sooner or later anyway.”
Cara felt herself grinding her back molars. “I have a pretty good idea who wanted to make sure you saw them.”
“Who?”
“I can’t prove it, but I bet Cullen Kane was behind it.”
“The florist? The one Patricia wanted to hire?”
“That’s the one. He’ll do anything he can to mess with me.”
“I don’t get it,” Brooke said.
“It’s a long story. But let’s get back to you. That’s why you left? Because of the photos?”
“Yes.” She held her right hand up to her left and let the ladybug cross over the fingertip bridge. There was a faint band of pale skin where her engagement ring had been. “Honestly? No. That’s the lie I told myself the whole drive down here. I thought I wanted to hurt Harris as much as he’d hurt me. I decided I’d come over here, stay a couple nights at Loblolly, and then go back and get married.”
“You can still go back and get married. Harris won’t care where you’ve been. He just wants you to come back.”
Brooke shook her head. “It’s too late for that now. I can’t marry Harris. I won’t marry him.” She looked over at Cara. “And nothing you can say is going to change my mind.”
She tilted her right hand slightly, and the ladybug nimbly transitioned into the palm of her hand. Brooke stood up and leaned over the wooden railing. She raised her palm to her lips and blew gently.
60
Brooke sat back down and looked at the thin gold watch on her wrist. “If you leave now, you can still make the afternoon ferry back to St. Marys.”
Cara’s mind was working frantically. Where was that rational, well-planned speech she’d rehearsed? All she could think of was—why? Why not marry sweet, lovely, loving, wealthy, wonderful Harris Strayhorn? Why not return to her loving family in Savannah? Why not beg forgiveness and get on with a wedding that might mean the difference between financial success or suicide for Cara Mia Kryzik?
Her mind went haywire. So she asked the burning question.
“Are you sleeping with Pete?”
Brooke looked up at her through lowered eyelashes. She had such long, luxurious dark lashes, Cara had major lash envy.
“Who wants to know?”
“I do. It might help me understand what’s going through your head right now.”
“I wanted to sleep with Pete. That first night in his cabin, I tried to seduce him. Does that shock you?”
