HIS ONE TRUE LOVE

BROOKLYN 5

“I can’t do this,” I muttered for maybe the twentieth time as I paced the length of the room again.

“Brooks, you need to calm down, you need to breathe.” Hannah said as she carefully approached me.

I was pacing, back and forth in my room, my heels clinking against the floorboard in rhythmic taps, my fingers raking through my perfectly styled hair as I huffed in frustration. My whole life had just blown back in my face and I knew it was only but a few more minutes before everyone knew what had happened between me and Harlan in Paris. I bet he was making a beeline straight to his brother to tell him I was a fraud, a liar, some wicked witch of the west and maybe I was.

Because more than the fear of whatever drama was about to unfold, it was the rage inside me that was killing me. The image of that woman, curling her hands around his arm, looking at me like I was the devil incarnate, when she— she was the villain here, touching a man that didn’t belong to her like that.

“It was him, Hannah. It was really him,” I whispered, then louder, desperate, “What are the odds? What are the f*****g odds?”

“Lower.. if you had stayed in Paris and told the man you loved him,” she muttered.

I shot her a look but didn’t stop pacing. My mind was a kaleidoscope of panic—Harlan’s face, his voice, the shock in his eyes when he saw me.

Hannah kept talking. “Babes I promise whatever it is, we can sort it out. We can even try having a conversation with Harl–”

“Did you see the way she held his arm? Like what was that? And she called him babe, what the f**k is babe? Babe really? So f*****g cliche” I said rambling out all at once.

“Excuse me, what?’’ Hannah asked, taken aback.

“The ginger head girl, you saw her go ‘lets go babe’, f*****g ridiculous and he just let her walk him away from me like that.. Did you see that?’’ I laughed a little too loudly.

Hannah exhaled, “Is that seriously what’s going through your mind right now? His date? Probably his girlfriend but seriously? Not the fact that you’re caught in like the biggest scandal of all time?”

Oh God.

I slammed my eyes shut. That image replayed over and over, clawing at me. Jealousy came in waves that made me dizzy, mean, and sick with regret.

“She touched him,” I said, hating how my voice cracked. “She touched him like she’s been touching him for a while. Like she has the right to.”

“You left him, Brooklyn,” Hannah said softly.

“I know!” I snapped, then froze mid-pace, my throat closing. “But seeing her with him—it felt like—” My voice failed before I could finish the sentence.

Hannah sighed. “What were you expecting? That he would stay single forever?”

“She’s not even his type, you know? She— I— we” My voice cracked a little, “It’s him Hannah, it’s Harlan… It's him” I said, my chest caving into me.

“Oh brooksie… come here” Hannah said as she wrapped her arms around me in a hug.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted salt. The first sob came out of nowhere, ripping through me with no warning. My knees went weak, and I clutched the edge of the vanity to stay upright.

“I screwed up, everything is my fault. I lied to him about my name, I was thinking he’ll never find me and now he’s here as my brother in law.”

Hannah stroked my hair. “A very hot brother in law by the way. It will all be okay I promise and if not, we can still elope to Ibiza but this doesn’t have to be all bad okay? I’m sure we can fix this.”

“How do I fix it? He called me Ma Vie… he remembers, he—” I choked on a tear.

“Okay that was the singular most amazing and the hottest romantic s**t I have ever witnessed. It is one thing when you say it and another thing when he says it, "she said.

I shook my head violently, wiping at my face with shaking hands. “I can’t, I can’t—he was supposed to still… God, what if he hates me? What if she means something to him? What if I ruined everything and he—” Another sob strangled me. “I never even explained. I just left him with a note.”

A pathetic two words. I’m sorry.

I pressed my palms to my eyes and cried harder. Ugly, uncontrollable crying that made my chest ache and my vision blur and my lungs forget how to function.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered again, voice shaking. “This was a mistake. All of it. I don’t even know how to look at him.”

Hannah grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face her. “Then talk to him. You need to have a damn conversation with the man you ghosted after he bought you a ring. But I think what we should be worrying about is your actual fiance cus I kinda feel like we're losing the plot here. I mean the brother of the one that got away”

I choked out a wet, miserable laugh. “When you say it like that, it sounds so much worse. But I have to talk to him, stop him from ruining the wedding.”

“It is worse,” she said bluntly. “But it’s fixable. You owe him an explanation. Hell, you owe yourself one.”

I looked at her, breathing hard. “And what if he doesn’t want to hear it?”

“Then that’s his decision. But you’re not running again. You’re going to talk to him like a grown woman and get this out in the open.”

I wiped my cheeks and tried to steady my voice. “Okay.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No, not ‘okay’ like you’re about to faint in the hallway. You need to go in there like a badass. Shoulders back. Eyes dry. No trembling, no apologizing with your body language.”

I nodded again, stronger this time.

“Say it,” she demanded.

“I’ll be badass about it,” I said, dragging in a breath. “Not scared. Not weak.”

“Exactly.” She pointed toward the mirror. “But first… we need to fix your damn face.”

I looked at my reflection and winced. Mascara streaked down my cheeks. Lip gloss gone. Eyes red. I looked like someone had proposed and then set me on fire.

Hannah dabbed foundation over the damage, blended out the blotchiness, reapplied eyeliner and mascara, fixed my lipstick, and smoothed my hair back into place. Her hands were steady. Mine weren’t.

When she finished, I stared at myself again.

“I’m a f*****g good fixer…” She said admiring her work.

I looked composed.

Which was a miracle, because inside, I was a live wire about to snap.

“Shoulders,” she reminded me.

I squared them.

“Chin.”

I lifted it.

“Eyes,” she said, and I met my own reflection. I looked like a woman who could face him. Or at least fake it.

I drew in a shaky breath and squared my shoulders, turning toward the door. My heart pounded against my ribs, fear and fury and longing all braided into one wild rhythm.

“I’m not going to be scared,” I told myself as much as her.

“Damn right, you are a badass bitch.” Hannah said, opening the door for me with a flourish. “Now go kick destiny in the balls.”

I laughed, the sound fragile but real this time, and I stepped into the hall—ready or not, the confrontation was coming.