HIS ONE TRUE LOVE

“Are you seriously considering doing it?’’ Hannah asked. The smell of cinnamon coffee curled around my kitchen, she sat across from me at the island, legs tucked under her like she owned the place, her chin propped on her hand as she gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and disbelief. “Doing what?’ I asked, acting like I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. “Are you sure you want to go through with this wedding?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes far too sharp. Her gaze shifted to the big ol rock that sat pretty on my finger, I reached for it, admiring its beauty. A sigh broke from my lips, “Yes, I decided to go ahead with the wedding plans.” My spoon clinking against the side of my mug. The word felt like swallowing a stone. Hannah arched a brow, like she could see right through me. “You don’t even know him well enough to want to marry him.” I stared down at the marble counter, tracing the faint veining with my fingertip. “He’s nice,” I said softly. “He’s kind. And he seems like the kind of guy who can offer me… stability.” The more I spoke, the more unconvincing I sounded even to myself. I was engaged to a man I barely knew after eight months knowing of each other, a union insisted upon by our parents. My words about my fiancé were true. He was kind and nice and really the kind of guy anyone would want to be seen with. Girls would literally kill to be in the position that I was in. We had a decent relationship, if you could call it that, but Hannah was right. I barely knew the guy, apart from the fact that he was a Ford, one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast, and he was the CEO of the Ford corporation, I really didn’t know anything about him. She groaned, dragging her palms down her face dramatically. “God, Brooklyn, you sound like a brochure for a retirement home. Stability? That’s your selling point?” My lips tugged into a reluctant smile, but it fell quickly. “It’s what I need.” Her groan was immediate, theatrical, like a woman listening to her friend walk into a burning building on purpose. “Brooklyn, are you hearing yourself? You’re thirty, not sixty. Did you suddenly stop wanting happiness?” I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Happiness is a luxury. Stability is survival.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing in challenge. “Have you even slept with him?” I nearly choked on my coffee. “Hannah!” “It’s a simple question,” she said, eyes gleaming with mischief. I hesitated a beat too long. Her jaw dropped. “You haven’t.” I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not about that.” “Not about—” she cut herself off, then slapped her palms against the counter. “Brooklyn Halo Whitmoore, are you telling me you’re about to walk into an arranged marriage without so much as test-driving the car?” I set my mug down a little too hard, the ceramic ringing against the counter. “s*x isn’t everything.” “No, but it’s something,” she shot back. I groaned. “Stop it. He’s not a car.” “Fine. A fiancé, then. But you don’t even know if you’re compatible in bed. God.” She leaned in closer, voice dropping. “Why didn’t you ever try to find the guy you had that thing with in Paris?” My chest tightened at the mention of Paris. Three months wrapped in a bubble of sunlight and late-night kisses that felt stolen from a better life. Where I was foolish enough to believe I could have a love that made me feel seen, known, desired. I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “Because he was twenty-six. And a twenty-six-year-old can’t offer a grown woman what she really needs.” “You don’t know that for sure,” Hannah said, softer this time, like she was afraid I might break. “Three months was not enough time to know. You told me about the gifts, the trips, the way he treated you like you hung the damn moon. A broke guy does not buy a Cartier bracelet, Brooklyn.” “Three months was long enough to realize he was too young. Who plans to propose to a woman he met in three months? That was so twenty-six years old of him, impulsive.” I said, a little too sharply. “Mm.” Her skeptical noise cut straight through me. “He didn’t feel too young or impulsive when he was spoiling you rotten and putting you through the sheets like he was unearthing lithium.” “Jesus… Hannah!!!” I rolled my eyes at her. “He loved you, and you left him in the worst way possible. You are scum of the earth, my friend.” My throat burned at the memories. I had replayed that last morning a hundred times—me finding the marquise diamond ring box in his jacket pocket, my chest collapsed in panic and I slipped out the door with my suitcase before he got back from grocery shopping. “I know,” I said, barely a whisper. “Don’t rewrite history just because you’re scared.” I rubbed my temples. “That isn’t the point, Hannah.” “Then what is?” “The point is, I left him in the worst way possible. And I can’t go back. I can’t—” My voice cracked, a thin splinter of truth slipping through. Her expression softened. “You loved him.” I closed my eyes. The memory of his laughter, his hands, the stupid ring box I found in his pocket—it all swelled in my chest like something too sharp to hold. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes as I struggled to blink them back. Silence stretched between us and Hannah reached across the island and squeezed my hand. “I’m a fool, Hannah, and I know that I may have missed my chance to be loved the way I want to be loved. With him,” I admitted, surprising even myself with the confession. “I know that I will never find love like that again. A love so raw and passionate and I miss him every single day. It's been a year and I still miss him. “Oh brooks…’’ Hannah pouted, rubbing circles on the back of my palm with her thumb. I chuckled, trying to downplay the sheer misery I felt. “I sound pathetic, don’t I?…. A few months to my wedding and I sound like a loser.” “I mean you are a loser,” Her shoulders, shrugging at me. “Hannah—” A small laugh slipped from my throat. “What? You did lose the love of your life, so there is that.” I sighed, thinking of the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on the most beautiful man I had ever seen, Harlan. If Aphrodite ever had a son with Apollo, he would look exactly like Harlan did. She was right, he was the love of my life, still is. The memory of him settled behind my eyes. His sun-kissed, honey-tanned skin that gleamed in the sunlight, the curls on his head that he always managed to mess up no matter how many hours I spent fixing them up. The chisel of his jaw and sculpt of his perfect face, his full lips and green eyes, he was blessed with the body of a god and I had the joy of exploring every inch of it. The way he always called me Ma Vie was lodged safely in my memory, refusing to give room for new experiences. The morning I left—ran from our shared home in Paris and took the next available flight back home to New York. He kissed my forehead and said to me “Tu es tout pour moi, tout.” You are everything to me, everything. And I believed every word of it, only for me to run at the second I saw the ring he had bought with my name engraved inside the band and I knew that he meant every word of it. So I ran–left him without an explanation. I am sure he hates me. “Earth to Brooke…” Hannah snapped her fingers, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Huh? What? The coffee is good,” I scrambled, looking for a lifeline. “Who said anything about coffee?’’ She said, squinting at me. “You were thinking about him, weren’t you? You were thinking about Mr Paris”. “His name is Harlan,” I said, bringing my coffee mug to my mouth. She said, teasingly. “Oh? You are you defending him now? Brooklyn Halo.. is that a blush I see? Are you blushing at the memory of him?” “Have I ever told you how annoying you are, dear Hannah?” My flat smile widened at her. She laughed, throwing her head back. “You tell me every time.” “Clearly not enough,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. I sighed, rubbing my temple. I had to get Harlan out of my head, my mind. I needed to find a way to purge him out of my system. A year had passed, and he could be anywhere in the world, he could be engaged to someone more worthy of his love, he could be happier with someone who was not me. “Brookes, I want you to be happy and I just— I do not think Max is that man for you’’ Hannah said. I chuckled, stroking the rim of my mug with my ring finger. “You barely know the guy, how would you know?” “I could say the same for you, Fiancée,” she taunted. “Maximilian is enough. He gives me the security I need, he is kind, well-mannered, family oriented. And everyone is coming to the Whitmore mansion this weekend to celebrate our engagement.” “But you don’t even love him, and you are not excited about being married to him.’’ Hannah countered, lines of worry etched on her small face. I cupped Hannah’s face with both hands and gave her a forehead kiss, hoping for my sake it would shut her up. “You are the best friend a girl could ever ask for, and you will be my maid of honor at the wedding. Take my card and shop a sexy outfit for the engagement party this weekend. I heard his brother Harry would be attending. I have not met him but judging by Max’s looks, I bet he would be just as hot.’’ Hannah reached across the island, threading her fingers through mine. “You don’t have to get married just because your father said so. That was the whole point of Paris, remember? To escape the arranged marriage crisis? And now you’re walking right back into it.” I squeezed her hand back, forcing a small smile. “I know. But Max isn’t all that bad.” She groaned again but let me go. I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her hand before slipping off the stool. “I have to get ready for work, I have a couple coming in for a shoot today,” I said, smoothing down the front of my silk blouse. “I promise I’ll be fine.” “Fine. I’ll drop it, for now. What were we saying about his brother again??’’ Hannah raised an eyebrow. We burst into laughter and the conversation lightened, further away from the biggest mistake I had made and a bigger one I may be about to make. I looked outside, and the sun had dimmed, covered by grey clouds that sent a shiver down my spine, whispering with the wind that a storm was brewing and I may have been caught in it.