Last Night at Chateau Marmont (47 page)

When they finally pulled apart, she noticed he was wearing Converse sneakers with his suit.

He followed her gaze down to his shoes. “I forgot to pack dress shoes,” he said with a little shrug. He pointed to his head, which was cap-free. “And my hair’s kind of a disaster.”

Brooke leaned in and kissed him again. It felt so good, so normal! She wanted to be angry, but she was just so damn happy to see him. “Oh, no one cares. They’re just going to be happy you’re here.”

“Come with me. Let’s find Trent and Fern. Then you and I can talk.”

Something about the way he said this calmed her. He was there, he was taking charge, and she was just so happy to follow his lead. He led her down the hallway, where a few wedding-goers did double-takes—Isaac and his girlfriend among them, she was pleased to see—and then straight out to the tent. The band was on break as everyone ate dessert, so there was no way they were going to slip in unnoticed. When they entered, the change in the room was palpable. People stared, whispered to each other, and a young girl of maybe ten or eleven actually pointed toward Julian and shouted his name to her mother. Brooke heard her mother-in-law before she saw her.

“Julian!” Elizabeth hissed, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. “What are you
wearing
?”

Brooke shook her head. That woman never failed to amaze her.

“Hi, Mom. Where’s—”

Dr. Alter was only a second behind her. “Julian, where the hell have you been? Missing your own cousin’s rehearsal dinner, leaving your poor wife alone all weekend, and now showing up looking like
that
? What’s gotten into you?”

Brooke braced herself for conflict, but Julian just said, “It’s great to see you, Mom, Dad. But you’ll have to excuse me.”

Julian whisked her over to Trent and Fern. They were busy making their rounds at all the tables, and Brooke could feel hundreds of eyes on her and Julian as they approached the happy couple.

“Trent,” Julian said quietly, placing a hand on his cousin’s back.

Trent’s face registered shock and then joy when he turned around. The two of them hugged. Fern smiled at Brooke, and all her anxiety over whether or not Fern was angry at them for Julian’s sudden appearance evaporated.

“First and foremost, congratulations, you two!” Julian said, clapping Trent again and leaning in to kiss Fern on the cheek.

“Thanks, buddy,” Trent said, clearly happy to see Julian.

“Fern, you look absolutely beautiful. I don’t know what this guy did to deserve you, but he’s pretty damn lucky.”

“Thanks, Julian,” Fern said with a smile. She reached over and took Brooke’s hand. “Brooke and I finally got to spend some time together this weekend, and I’d say you’re pretty lucky, too.”

Brooke squeezed Fern’s hand.

Julian grinned at Brooke. “I’d say so,” he said. “Listen, you guys, I’m so sorry for missing everything.”

Trent waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’re glad you made it.”

“No, no, I should’ve been here for the whole weekend. I’m really sorry.”

For a minute Julian looked as though he might cry. Fern stood on her tiptoes to hug him and said, “It’s nothing a couple of front-row tickets to your next L.A. show can’t solve. Isn’t that right, Trent?”

Everyone laughed, and Brooke watched as Julian slipped Trent a folded piece of paper. “It’s my rehearsal dinner toast. I’m sorry I couldn’t read it last night.”

“You could do it now,” Trent said.

Julian looked dumbfounded. “You want me to read it now?”

“It is your toast, right?”

Julian nodded.

“Then I think I speak for both of us when I say that we’d love to hear it. If you don’t mind . . .”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Julian said. Almost instantaneously,
someone materialized with a microphone; after a few glass clinks and a couple hushing sounds, the tent grew quiet. Julian cleared his throat and appeared instantly to relax. Brooke wondered if the entire room was thinking how natural he looked with a microphone in his hand. Completely at ease and absolutely adorable. She felt a surge of pride.

“Hey, everyone,” he said with a dimple-producing grin. “My name’s Julian, and Trent and I are first cousins, actually only born about six months apart, so I think it’s fair to say we go way back. I’m, uh, sorry to interrupt your fun, but I just wanted to wish my cousin and his beautiful new wife all the happiness in the world.”

He paused for a moment and fiddled with his paper, but after his eyes skimmed over a few words, he shrugged and shoved it back in his pocket. He looked up and paused.

“Look everyone, I’ve known Trent for a very long time, and I can safely say that I have never, ever seen him this happy. Fern, you’re a welcome addition to our crazy family and a breath of fresh air.”

Everyone laughed except Julian’s mother. Brooke grinned.

“What everyone may not realize is how much I owe Trent.” Julian coughed and the room grew even quieter. “Nine years ago he introduced me to Brooke, my wife, the love of my life. I can’t even stand to think what would’ve happened if their blind date had gone well that night”—more laughter—“but I, for one, am forever grateful that it didn’t. If you would’ve told me on my own wedding night that I would love my wife even more today, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but as I stand here tonight and look at her, I can tell you it’s true.”

Brooke felt the entire room turn in her direction, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Julian.

“May you love each other more with each passing day, and know that no matter what obstacles life throws your way, you’ll get through them together. Tonight is just the beginning, you two, and I know I
speak for everyone here when I say how honored I am to share it with you. Please raise a glass to Trent and Fern!”

The crowd let out a rousing cheer as everyone clinked their glasses and someone called out, “Encore, encore!”

Julian blushed and leaned into the microphone. “Actually, now I’m going to do a special performance of ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ for the happy couple. You two don’t mind, right?”

He turned to look at Trent and Fern, both of whom appeared horrified. There was a split second of silence until Julian broke the tension. “I’m just kidding! Of course, if you really want me to . . .”

Trent was on his feet in a second, mock-tackling Julian, and Fern joined him a minute later and gave him a teary kiss on the cheek. Once again, the room laughed and cheered and Julian whispered something in his cousin’s ear and the two embraced. The band began to play some soft background music and Julian walked over to Brooke and, without a word, led her through the crowd and back into the hallway.

“That was beautiful,” she said, and her voice cracked.

He put both hands on her face and looked directly into her eyes. “I meant every word of it.”

She leaned in to kiss him. It only lasted a moment, but she wondered if it didn’t qualify as the best kiss of their relationship. She was about to wrap her arms around his neck when he pulled her out the front door and said, “Do you have a coat?”

Brooke eyed the small group of smokers at the other end of the walkway who were staring right back and said, “It’s with the coat check.”

Julian took his jacket off and helped her into it. “Come with me?” he asked.

“Where are we going? I think the hotel is a little too far to walk to,” she whispered to him as they strolled past the smokers and around the side of the house.

Julian put his hand in the small of her back and nudged her
toward the backyard. “We have to go back in, but I don’t think anyone will mind if we sneak away for a little.”

He led her through the yard and down a path toward a pond and motioned for her to sit on a stone bench facing the water. “You okay?” he asked.

The stone felt like an ice block through the sheer material of her dress, and her toes were beginning to tingle. “I’m a little cold.”

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

“So, what are you doing here, Julian?”

He took her hand. “I knew before I went away it was a terrible idea. I tried to rationalize that it was better to leave everyone alone, but it wasn’t. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I didn’t want to wait another minute to talk to you about it.”

“Okay . . .”

He took her hand. “I was sitting next to this singer, Tommy Bailey, that kid who won
American Idol
a couple years ago?”

Brooke nodded. She didn’t mention the connection to Amber or the fact that she already knew all she needed to about Tommy.

“So we’re, like, the only two people sitting in first class. I’m obviously going over there to work, but he’s headed over for vacation. He has a couple weeks off from touring, and he rented some sick villa somewhere. And it strikes me—he’s going alone.”

“Oh, please, just because he was on the flight alone does not mean he’ll be alone when he gets there.”

Julian held up a hand. “No, you’re totally right. He couldn’t shut up about all the girls who were meeting him there, stopping by, whatever. His agent and his manager were coming over, a few so-called friends he’d rounded up by paying for their tickets. It sounded kind of pathetic, but I wasn’t sure—maybe he loves that whole scene. Lots of guys probably do. But then he starts drinking, really drinking, and by the time we’re halfway across the Atlantic, he’s in tears—literally, crying—about how much he misses his ex-wife and his family and his friends from growing up. How there’s no one in his life he’s known for
longer than a couple years and no one who doesn’t want something from him. He’s a wreck, Brooke, a total disaster, and all I could think was
I don’t want to be that guy.
”

Brooke finally exhaled. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d been holding her breath on and off since they’d begun this conversation.
He doesn’t want to be that guy.
A few simple words, and she’d been waiting to hear them for so long.

She turned to look up at him. “I don’t want you to be that guy, either, but I also don’t want to be the wife who holds you back, who’s constantly carping and making threats and asking when you’ll be home.”

Julian looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Please. You love that.”

Brooke appeared to think about it. “Yeah, you’re right. I do love that.”

They both smiled.

“Look, Rook, I just keep going over and over it in my head. I know it’ll take time before you trust me again, but I will do whatever it takes. This weird no-man’s-land we’re in . . . it’s hell. If you hear nothing else tonight, please hear this: I will not give up on us. Not now, not ever.”

“Julian—”

He leaned close. “No, listen. You killed yourself working those two jobs for so long. I just . . . I didn’t see what a toll it was taking on you, and—”

She took his hand. “No, I’m sorry about that. I wanted to do it, for you, for us, but I shouldn’t have been so insistent on keeping both of them once everything started taking off with your career. I don’t know why I did; I started feeling left out, like everything was spiraling out of control, and I was trying to maintain some normalcy. But I’ve thought a lot about it, too, and I should’ve at least quit Huntley when your album dropped. I probably should’ve requested to go part-time at the hospital. Maybe then we could have had some flexibility to
see each other. But even if I only go back part-time now, or hopefully open my own practice, I still . . . I don’t know how it can work.”

“It has to!” he said with an urgency she hadn’t felt from him in so long.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded packet of papers. “Are those . . .” She almost blurted out “divorce papers” but managed to stop herself. She wondered if she sounded as irrational as she felt.

“This is our game plan, Rook.”

“Our game plan?” She could see her breath in the air, and she was starting to shiver uncontrollably.

Julian nodded. “It’s just the beginning,” he said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “We’re getting rid of poisonous people once and for all. First up? Leo.”

Just the sound of his name made her cringe. “What does he have to do with us?”

“A lot, actually. He’s been absolutely toxic in every imaginable way. Something you probably knew all along but I was too much of an ass to really see. He leaked a lot of stuff to the press and arranged to get the
Last Night
paparazzo into the Chateau, and he’s the one who sent that girl to my table, all under the ridiculous rationalization that any press is good press. He orchestrated the whole thing. I was at fault—I absolutely was—but Leo—”

“Disgusting,” she said, shaking her head.

“I fired him.”

Brooke’s head snapped up and she could see Julian was smiling. “You really did?”

“Oh, I sure did.” He handed her a piece of folded paper. “Here, this is step two.”

The single sheet looked like it had been printed from a website. It featured a headshot of a kindly older gentleman named Howard Liu, his contact information, and a history of the apartments he’d sold in the last couple years. “Should I know Howard?” she asked.

“You will soon,” Julian said, smiling. “Howard is our new broker. And if you’re okay with it, we have an appointment with him first thing Monday.”

“We’re getting an apartment?”

He handed her another wad of papers. “We’re seeing these. And anything else you want to look at, of course.”

She stared at him for a moment, unfolded the papers, and gasped. They were more printouts, only these were of beautiful town houses in Brooklyn, probably six or seven in all, each featuring photos and floor plans and lists of features and amenities. Her eyes froze on the last one, the four-story brownstone with the front stoop and the little gated front yard that she and Julian had walked by hundreds of times.

“That’s your favorite, right?” he asked, pointing to it.

She nodded.

“I thought so. We’re seeing that one last. And if you like it, we’re going to put in a bid then and there.”

“Ohmigod.” It was too much to process. Gone was all talk of the chic Tribeca lofts or the ultramodern high-rise apartments. He wanted a home—a real home—as much as she did.

“Here,” he said, handing her a piece of paper.