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Then, nobody would ask her any questions.
Then, maybe she'd have be able to leave the past in the past.
One woman tugged on her dress harder than the rest and she grabbed the fabric before whipping around to face her. The tiny blonde who'd been in Brooks' ear, whispering god only knew what while terror descended on Natalie.
To her surprise though, the woman didn't seem upset or jealous or even all that curious. Her smile was kindly, if a little
vacant, and she asked, "I'm going to see if Brooks needs a ride home from the station. You wanna come with me?"
Natalie shook her head.
God only knew if Brooks wanted to see her again after tonight. First with Franco, then with Dominic. Fighting for her didn't mean he'd forgiven her, and getting arrested in her honor would probably do nothing to soften that blow.
With a sinking stomach, she thought of Garret's face when he saw tomorrow's headlines. And Rachael. And Eliza.
If Natalie had never gone to that damned hotel...No, if she'd never taken that damned job, none of them would be here right now. She'd known better than to go. Just like she'd known better than to get involved with Brooks in the first place. Just like she'd known better than to come here.
And still, where Brooks was concerned, listening to her rational side had never been an option.
Well, not any more.
She was done with cameras and with Brooks Adams and with life as a secretary. Who knew? Maybe she'd waitress for a while or go back home and see if her dad had left anything behind for her.
It didn't matter what happened next.
All that mattered was that it was behind her now.
A strong grip closed around her shoulder and she turned to find Franco there, his expression almost as stern as the last time they'd been in the same room with his brother.
There was sadness behind his eyes. And fury. But for her, she could only see compassion, and she threw herself into his embrace before she remembered the cameras were even there.
He stroked her hair gently, and though she knew the crowd still hummed with excitement and confusion, she was able to block it out for a single moment while Franco soothed her wounds.
His rumbling voice broke through her thoughts, "It's a good thing you wore this dress. I'd hate for you to look bad on the front page."
She couldn't bring herself to smile, and when he looked down at her again, she gave him a slight, shaky nod.
It was time to go.
Again.
As he moved her through the crowd, she was amazed by how easily he sheltered her from the paparazzi. To every question, he grunted or didn't bother to answer at all—including the more incendiary questions.
Like, for example, if Natalie was also carrying his baby.
When she settled into the Mercedes, she leaned the seat back as far as it would go then let out one deep breath.
It was possible tonight had been a dream. A premonition, even. Any minute now, she could wake up in Brooks' bed, the roll over and let him know things would never work between them.
Her stomach twisted at the idea, but she knew it had to be done.
God only knew it would be a better—cleaner—breakup than this nightmare.
When Franco started driving, she didn't bother asking him where he was going to go. She just laid there, feeling the potholes from the snowy winter they'd had and hoping against hope that if she just ignored it, this would all be over soon.
"We're here." Franco parked, so she adjusted the seat to sitting, and then took in the building in front of them.
"The police station? Did you take me here to straighten things out with Brooks?"
