Suddenly his phone rang. It was Valerie. “Val?”
“Hey, Seth. I’m going to be a little late coming home. You can carry on to the gala. I’ll meet you there.”
But Seth didn’t think he could be alone with Brooklyn without Valerie to remind him that he couldn’t have her. “No, I’ll wait for you.”
“Okay,” she said. And she hung up.
* * * * *
Valerie turned off the phone and walked away from her house. She didn’t know why she had called Seth and told him that she would be late. She was only a few feet away from the house. But she needed to think. Quickly, she walked away. She didn’t know where she was, but soon enough, she found herself outside Painter’s & Co. The store was still open, but no one was in there except for an employee who seemed to be snoozing behind the counter. She tiptoed into the studio in the back and shut the door behind her.
Right there, in her expensive white dress, she sat on the floor—she always did when she was upset. The smell of oil paints comforted her. She noticed, with a jump, that her painting was still there, propped up next to Ty’s. The hands in his painting looked oddly familiar. She looked down at her own, and realized, with shock, that those hands were hers. All the way down to the chip in the red polish on her right index finger. She stared at it for what seemed like the longest time before she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks. And then she could not stop them. They came out in loud, choked sobs, and she clutched her hands together, tightly as she threw her head down and cried.
She thought of Ty. Maybe it was insane to love someone after four days, but she did. It was a wonderful feeling, but she hated it. She felt like a cheat somehow. Loving someone while she was engaged. But she loved him. She was afraid to admit it, though. If she admitted she loved Ty, her life would spin completely off course and she would have to forge her own path. It was a daunting prospect to her.
But when she stared up at his painting, it only made her surer. Ty and Valerie. Valerie and Ty. Suddenly, the door to the studio flew upon. She looked up in surprise.
Standing there, looking so beautiful was Ty. He was dressed in a dress shirt and a blazer, both black, over black jeans. “Valerie?” he looked at her in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, startled. She could still feel her last tear sliding down her cheek.
“The guy behind the counter saw a light in here and called me. I was on the way to the Ryder gala. Are you crying? What are you doing here?” he asked, bewildered. Valerie realized how crazy she must look to him then. She was sitting cross legged on the floor of his studio and crying her heart out.
She stumbled and stood up. “I-I just needed somewhere to cry. I’m sorry it was here. I’ll leave.”
But Ty caught her arm. Any tears, especially Valerie’s, really got to him. “Why are you crying?” he asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
And then she broke. She threw her thin arms around his neck. “I’m crying,” she cried, “Because I love you, Tyler Brenson. What am I supposed to do?” she implored, looking up at him with tear-filled violet eyes.
He let out what was between a gasp and a sigh and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Be with me,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers.
Suddenly, it seemed so easy to her. She couldn’t imagine why she had been crying. Ty and Valerie. Valerie and Ty. It was as easy and simple as that. She nodded to him and reached up to kiss him. They fit together like puzzle pieces, and he tasted of cigarettes and mint and happiness.
When she pulled away, she stared into his grey black eyes—they were so deep, just like Ty himself.
* * * * *
Brooklyn surveyed herself in the mirror. Her dress, which she had been fitted for a week ago, was really a work of art. It was dark blue, which emphasized her pale white skin and long auburn hair that curled down her back. Brooklyn bent down and lifted Ella into her arms. Ella was dressed in a pretty green dress with a bow that was fastened under her chest. She looked like a flower girl, or a tiny angel. Brooklyn smiled at her beautiful daughter.
And then Cecily appeared at the door. “Carter is here,” she said quietly.
Brooklyn’s smiled faded away. “Take Ella, please. I have to talk to him.”
She handed over her daughter to her mother and glided downstairs. Standing uncomfortably near the door was Carter, in a tuxedo. “Carter?”
He turned to her. “Brooklyn. Brooklyn, look, I’m sorry I got so angry. I never should have yelled at you, but—“
And on impulse, without thinking, she just blurted it out. “I can’t do this anymore.”
He looked at her. “Huh?” he said, stupidly.
“Us. I can’t do it anymore. I think we should split up, Carter.”
He looked at her like she had slapped him. It broke her heart, but she knew she needed to do it. As soon as the words had come out, she had felt free. “You want a divorce?” he asked.
She nodded. “It’s not anything that you did. I don’t think I was ever really in love with you. It took me this long to figure it out.” She hugged Carter. “I’m so sorry. We can split custody of Ella. But I can’t be your wife anymore. I’m sorry.”
Carter nodded, but he looked struck. “I-I just need to wrap my head around this,” he said, returning her hug. “It wasn’t how I pictured tonight.”
Brooklyn looked up at him. “You’re a good guy, Carter. I’m sure you can find someone who really truly loves you.”
“But I loved you,” he said, so mournfully that it broke her heart.
“Don’t,” she said.
He looked down. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” She let go of him. “I have to go. I have to go to someone.”
He just looked at her. “You’re going to the guy you love, aren’t you. Who is he?”
“Carter—“
He smiled, almost laughed. “I’m not going to beat him up, Brook. Just want to know who he is.”
The name made a rosy flush creep into her cheeks. “Seth. Seth Draycott,” she said, loving the way the name sounded on her tongue. Then she pulled open the door and got into her car.
She couldn’t stop smiling even when she was driving. The moment she had been waiting for since eighth grade—it was finally happening. She drove over the speed limit, trying to get there fast.
And then, suddenly, there was a bang and a crash. The last thing she thought of was the searing pain in her forehead, before everything went black.
* * * * *
Seth sat in the parlor, waiting for Valerie, when a piercing ring filled his ears. He picked up the phone. It was Cecily. He wondered what she was doing, calling him. She was probably wondering where h was. “Hello? Cecily?”
“Seth.”
“I’m sorry we aren’t there yet. Valerie is running a bit late and I—“
She cut him off. “It’s Brooklyn,” she said, sounding nearly hysterical. “She was driving somewhere, I don’t know where, and she got hit.”
“What?” Seth felt his heart stop.
“By another car, she got hit. She’s in the hospital right now. I thought you should know. I’m sitting outside her room right now. I just know she’d want you here.”
Seth’s breaths were coming out sharply and quickly, like they always did when he was scared. “I’ll be there.”
He turned off the phone and stood up. He had barely pulled on his coat when Valerie walked in. She was smiling hugely. “Seth. You’re white. What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
“Me too, actually.”
Seth really needed to go. But he couldn’t do that to Valerie. So he told her what he had been, subconsciously, planning to tell her anyway. “I can’t marry you,” he said.
And to his surprise, she laughed and threw her arms around him. “I can’t marry you either,” she said, releasing him and looking at him.
“What?”
“I love someon
e else. I love Ty Brenson. I love him,” she said, like she loved hearing the words.
If they were under any other circumstances, Seth would have laughed. But now he just said, “I love Brooklyn Ryder. And she just got hit by a car. I have to go to her.”
Valerie looked up at him with wide eyes. Then she pushed him. “Go! Go, to her. Seth, what are you waiting for? Go be with her!”
Seth hugged her tightly before almost flying out of the door.
Five minutes later, he was running down the white hallways of the hospital, until he caught sight of Cecily. She was standing there, next to Romeo, Averil, Natalia and Kat. They all wore identical expressions of fear. “Is she okay?” he almost yelled.
It was Kat who spoke. “They think so. They’re ninety percent sure she will be. But they won’t let us in.”
Seth sighed and leaned against the cool white wall. He slid down it until he was on the floor and his back rested against it. Suddenly it scared him. What if Brooklyn had died? Died without knowing how much he loved her. He couldn’t bear the thought.
* * * * *
Ty hoisted the last of Valerie’s bags and carried them inside. He dropped them on the ground. “That’s the last of them.”
She smiled, and he remembered for the millionth time how lucky he was to have her. “That’s great.” He loved how in place she looked in his apartment. At first, he had been nervous about her moving in. After all, she was used to a privileged life. But she didn’t seem to mind. She had started working too—with him. And her paintings were selling well.
He looked at her now. She was dressed in jeans and a shirt. Still, though, she was the same. The jeans were dark and pressed, and the shirt was a cashmere sweater with a silver brooch. She looked almost normal in his neighborhood. As long as you didn’t look at the tags on her clothes.
But what she looked like didn’t matter to him at all. He loved her. He reached out and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re officially moved in,” he told her.
“Uh, huh. I think I like it better than my old house.”
He rolled his eyes. “You lived on Park Avenue. Now you live in Queens. I don’t think so, Val. You don’t have to make me feel better.”
She shook her head. “No, really. I always had a secret longing to be a hipster. Or a hippie. A hippie would be cool.”
Ty laughed. “You’re turning into Brooklyn’s mother. From typical Park Avenue princess to weird hippie.”
She raised an eyebrow, but smiled. “You thought I was typical?”
He kissed her. “There is nothing typical about you.” But in his head, Ty vowed he’d make her happy, not matter what street their house was on.
She looked up at him. “Shall we go visit Brooklyn?”
He nodded. Brooklyn’s accident had shaken him. It was confusing—being happy and sad at the same time. “Yeah. I wonder if she’d gotten up yet. It’s been three days since the accident.”
“I know. Come on,” Valerie slipped her hand into his and they walked into the street and hailed a cab. Twenty minutes later, they were sliding open the door to Brooklyn’s room. Seth was sitting by her bed, like every other time they had come there. It didn’t seem like he left Brooklyn’s side. He was sitting there, half asleep.
“Hey,” he murmured.
Brooklyn was laying there, her auburn hair spread out on the pillow like a halo. Sleeping, she looked peaceful, Ty thought. She looked younger. He watched her chest rise and fall with her easy breathing.
“Have you gone home since Christmas Eve?” Valerie asked Seth.
He opened his blue eyes. “I don’t need to be home. I need to be there for her.”
Valerie looked at him with what looked like maternal concern. “When is the last time you ate?”
Seth looked up at her. “I’m fine, Val. They give me hospital meals. I ate breakfast.”
She looked at him with pitying violet eyes. “Did you tell her? Did you tell her you love her?”
Seth shook his head. “She hasn’t woken up yet.”
Suddenly, his phone beeped. He jumped, and then regained himself and pulled it out. He glanced at it and then swore. “What?” Ty asked.
“I have a business meeting. Can you guys stay with her?” he asked them.
Valerie put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Of course. You go take a shower and take care of your work.”
Seth hugged her, shook hands with Ty, and left. Ty watched him go, knowing that Seth must really love Brooklyn to sit with her like that—day and night.
* * * * *
Brooklyn awoke suddenly, not knowing what had jerked her awake. But her eyes flew open. She found herself staring at a starched white ceiling. She tried to sit up, but a small hand with red polish pushed her gently back down. “Brooklyn?”
She stared up into those violet eyes. They looked so familiar. “”Valerie?” she asked.
The pretty face nodded. “I’m going to go get the doctor. Stay here, okay?”
Five minutes later, a lady in a white uniform was there. “Ms. Jules? Brooklyn? Okay, try to sit up.”
Brooklyn sat up easily. “What’s happened?” she asked. She looked down at herself and wrinkled her nose. “What am I wearing?”
Valerie laughed. “Don’t worry. Your mom took the blue dress home. All the blood is cleaned off.”
“Blood?” Brooklyn asked, mystified.
The nurse looked at her. “You were in a car crash. You hit your head and your arms were scraped, but other than that, you are fine.” And then, suddenly, it all came flooding back to her. The need to tell Seth, the speeding, the car. She put her head in her hands. Her eyes trailed down her arms, which had thin red-white scars tracing them.
The nurse saw her looking. “Just shallow glass cuts,” she assured her. Brooklyn nodded.
“Can I leave?” she asked.
The nurse nodded. “We have to perform a few tests to make sure you’re okay, but after that, you should be free to go if everything is alright.”
Valerie leaned in and whispered in her ear “Seth’s at a meeting. Conference room in the Plaza. Go get him,” she smiled and winked.
Brooklyn looked at her in astonishment. “What?”
“We broke off our engagement,” Valerie added, as an afterthought.
Slowly, a smile spread across Brooklyn’s face as she registered her good fortune. She slid out of the bed and followed the nurse out of the room.
After forty-five minutes, Cecily was there, handing her a pretty blue knee length dress with pale flowers on it and telling her to change. She slid it on and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked practically haggard, with purple bags under her eyes and a thin face. She looked at her waist. She’d lost weight.
But none of it mattered. She pulled her hair in a quick ponytail—something she hadn’t done since college, and rushed out. Cecily stopped her. “Where are you going?” she asked.
Brooklyn smiled. “To the Plaza.”
Cecily watched her daughter go, mystified.
Brooklyn threw out her hand and waved a taxi down. “The Plaza.” she told the driver.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled up in front of the familiar hotel. She was practically giddy. She paid the driver and slid out. And then she saw him.
He was in a black suit and red tie, coming out of the front, briefcase in hand. His blue eyes stood out from as far away she was. When he saw her, he looked up in surprise and smiled. And then she was running towards him. “Seth!” She threw herself in his arms.
He let go of the briefcase, letting it fall to the floor, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She’d never felt more home than in his arms. She let her head rest on his shoulder, in no hurry to let go.
“I have to tell you something,” they both said, simultaneously.
They laughed and looked at each other. He took her face in his hands and let his thumb glide over her cheekbone. His smile widened when she didn’t pull away. “You go first,” he said.
She took a deep breath. “I love you. This probably sounds crazy. I never told you, and I should have, I realize that now. But I was so scared. Scared that you wouldn’t love me back. But I had to tell you someday, and getting in that accident—it made me realize. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I felt.” She said it so quickly, knowing that if she gave herself the chance to turn back, she wouldn’t say it.
She saw his eyes widen. She bit her lips nervously. And then his arms tightened around her, so that they were pressed together.
“I love you too,” he whispered in her ear. “Always have, always will.”
Brooklyn couldn’t believe it had taken this long. She reached up and pressed her lips to his, right in front of everybody. But for her, he was the only one there. She let her hands wind up into his silky hair, bring him closer. He groaned, low in his throat, and deepened their kiss. It was beyond her wildest dreams. She should have done this long ago, she realized. His lips were soft on hers, and they were so close that she could feel the beat of his heart.
When they finally drew apart, he said it like he could barely believe it. “You love me?” he asked wonderingly. She’d never seen him smile so much.
She leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. “Of course. I always have.”
And for the first time, Brooklyn felt like she had her happy ending. That happy ending she thought everyone got but her.
* * * * *
Natalia fell into bed that night, between her two beautiful children. She watched them sleep, admiring their peaceful faces. No matter how tired and despairing they made her feel, she knew that she loved them more than anything. She stroked Juliet’s hair as she turned over in her sleep.