HIS ONE TRUE LOVE

BROOKLYN 4

Hannah saw me coming and opened her arms like she’d been waiting to catch me, so I let myself collapse into her warmth.

“If you don't want to do this anymore,” she whispered against my hair, “we can pack our bags right now and sprint barefoot into the night. We could be in Ibiza in a few hours. I’ll even steal the champagne on the way out.”

I smiled—an actual one this time. “I just need whiskey.”

She turned to get it, but before she could take three steps, my mother materialized like she’d smelled misbehavior.

“Hello Mother” I smiled tightly.

“The dress is a little too exposed on the thighs,” she said instead of hello. “And fix your face. You look like someone’s holding you here at gunpoint.”

I sighed, unamused. “Can we not do this right now, Mother? I’m just not in the mood right now.

“You are going to be marrying into one of the richest families in the country, you have no idea how lucky you are. You could at least put on a happy face, no one is holding a gun to your head,” she scowled.

“Did I agree to this marriage willingly, Mother?” I asked her calmly.

Her eyes sharpened. “Lower your voice.”

“Yeah, well, leave me alone and let me sulk as much as I want, since you are gladly letting history repeat itself. Like mother, like daughter… roped into loveless marriages.”

Her nostrils flared. “Keep your voice down.”

Before I could press, Hannah reappeared with a glass in hand, dropping into a ridiculous curtsy before my mother.

“My lady,” she said in the most dramatic British accent possible.

My mother had always believed Hannah wasn’t a good fit for me when it came to friendship. Hannah was tatted, always spoke her mind, didn’t ever bother to use her cutlery the right way and my mother hated it. She claimed I was fraternizing with people who weren’t from our world… whatever that meant.

She glared at Hannah and walked off with the offended dignity of a queen denied tribute.

I burst into quiet laughter.

The tension snapped just enough for me to breathe again and I hugged her tightly. “Thank you for being here. For being you, for doing this with me. I would be losing my mind or halfway to Brazil if you weren’t here right now.”

“Always babe. I mean the offer for Ibiza still stands the second you are up for it’’ She smacked my butt.

Then Max’s voice boomed across the hall. “Harry!”

Hannah’s jaw went slack. She turned slowly toward the commotion. “Oh my God. Holy s**t”

“What?” I asked, my pulse quickening.

“Your fiancé’s brother is… stupid hot.”

I followed her gaze and my world stopped. Everything collided; time, space, matter.. Everything molted into this one moment.

Because there he was. Harlan. My Harlan.

In a white shirt that fit too well, black trousers that made sin look under dressed, rings glinting on his fingers, a thin chain resting at his throat. His curls were messier than usual, like he’d dragged his hands through them a hundred times walking in here.

I didn’t feel the glass slip from my hand, but I heard it shatter at my feet.

A waiter knelt instantly to sweep it up, but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. I wanted to escape, to run and hide, to bury myself six feet deep before I ever had to explain why I left him, why I never gave him an explanation, why I was marrying his brother and not him.

Fate had a warped sense of humor. Harry was Harlan and he was Max’s younger brother. Yeah I am screwed.

“Brooklyn?” Hannah whispered, gripping my arm. “Are you okay?”

I could barely breathe. “It’s him,” I choked out. “It’s Harlan. Harry is Harlan.”

Hannah’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “Oh s**t this can’t be good.”

And then Max was walking back toward us—with Harlan at his side.

Harlan’s charming smile faded the instant his eyes found mine.

Recognition. Shock. Disbelief. Wonder. Fury. All of it flickered across his face in a split second. Then confusion settled itself on his face, he could not understand why I was here, at this party in a stupid red dress that stood out to everyone.

Max, oblivious, beamed like a proud host. “Brooklyn, this is my brother—Harlan. We call him Harry," but he hates it.” He walked to my side, his hand wrapped around my waist as he pulled me closer and gave me a kiss on my shoulder and on my lips right there, in front of Harlan “And Harry, this is the woman I will be marrying, my fiancé, Brooklyn Halo. She’s going to be my wife and your sister-in-law.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you Hailey,” Harlan said, pulling me in for a quick hug. He was taking this well, better than I had expected.

My entire body tensed, I wanted to pass out. “It’s Halo.”

He stared at me like he wanted me to explain myself. I had told him my name was Hailey White, back in Paris, because a part of me always knew whatever we had was temporary, so I lied.

I had lied, even about my name.

Harlan’s eyes burned into me, his face was a storm of shock and disbelief. His lips parted, and in that husky, familiar voice, he whispered, “Ma vie?”

My heart stopped.

Max laughed like it was adorable. “Ever since Harlan spent six months in Paris, he won’t let the French go. You spent some time there too, right? You two can swap stories later. I’ve got to go speak to the Meyers.”

He kissed me on the forehead, and he was gone before I could blink.

Harlan didn’t move.

.

His eyes dragged over me slowly, reverently, angrily—taking in every inch, relearning me. His voice was lower when he finally spoke.

“You look….. Beautiful.”

My throat closed because he remembered, because he always noticed. Because Max had barely told me I looked like anything all night, only that the color of my dress suited me.

I opened my mouth—God knows what was about to fall out—

But then a hand slid around his arm.

A woman.

A little shorter than me, with ginger curls and the kind of body sculpted by either genetics or Satan himself. She looked me up and down with open disdain before turning to him.

“Let’s go, babe.”

And just like that, she led him away.

And I stood there, heart in pieces, whiskey on the floor, wondering if this was the moment my life finally began to burn.