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‘I thought you wanted to become a rebel,’ he chided.
‘I think I’m a very bad rebel,’ she grinned back.
‘You want to wear Nicholas’s dress, so wear it. Fuck what everyone else thinks.’
‘What do you think? You didn’t like Nicholas’s wedding dress, did you?’ she asked, scanning his face. ‘Don’t lie to me. I saw it in your eyes.’
The snow was beginning to fall in thicker flakes, smearing the sidewalk in a glossy white sheen.
‘You’re beautiful, Brooke,’ he said after a long searching pause. ‘You know, the first moment I ever saw you, when we were at Brown, you looked so beautiful I almost felt my heart stop,’ he said softly. ‘I never thought that one person could have that effect on me again, but it did happen again. Back there, seeing you in that dress.’
Thoughts raced frantically around her head. Was he admitting feelings for her, or acknowledging her beauty, like everyone did around her? Over the last few months she had got so used to reading her name prefaced by the word ‘beautiful’ that she had become numbed to the compliment. But hearing it from Matt was making her heart beat hard. She took a breath as the memory of their last night together in Providence began replaying itself in her head. She remembered wanting him that night. She remembered enjoying their closeness, his sexiness, as they danced. At the time she’d thought it was the unusually large amount of alcohol she had drunk, but was their quirky friendship, their easy intimacy that had survived all the way through college, actually something more? Suddenly she had to know.
‘Do you remember our last night out at Brown? On the dance floor. Did you ask me to go home with you?’
He gave her a small, self–conscious smile. ‘Yeah, I did.’
‘I wasn’t sure what you’d said.’
‘You weren’t sure?’
‘I couldn’t hear over the music … And I didn’t want to spoil things.’
He looked confused and regretful. ‘You didn’t say anything. You just walked away. I thought you were just saying ‘No’ in the most elegant way possible.’
In a way I had, thought Brooke sadly, scanning her eyes over every inch of his face. That night in the club, Brooke had been almost sure what he had said. But she had chosen to ignore it and, in doing so, had rejected him. If she’d kissed him that night, what would it have achieved? She knew she was not supposed to end up with someone like Matt Palmer – from the cradle Brooke had been brought up, conditioned, to believe that she was a princess, destined for her Camelot. Her first summer at Brown she had taken Matt to Parklands and had registered her mother’s silent disapproval. And for reasons she didn’t even understand, Brooke had listened to it.
He gave a small smile before looking away in discomfort.
‘It was crass, I know, but I was in love with you. For three years I’d wanted to ask you to come home with me. I guess that last night I had to try. But I was right all along. I wasn’t good enough.’
‘Matt, it was never that. We were friends.’ Her cheeks reddened as she thought of her snobbishness, buried so deep inside her she hadn’t recognized it or chosen to rebel from it.
Time seemed to stand still as tension welled between them.
The snow was getting heavier. ‘We should get back,’ she said at last.
He nodded as they turned off the promenade. Matt flagged a cab down, and on the ride back to Manhattan Brooke was too embarrassed to talk. As the cab drew up at Matt’s apartment building, he turned to her.
‘I know you want to get back, but do you mind coming up for a moment? I just wanted to give you my wedding present.’
‘You are still coming to the wedding?’ she asked quickly, wondering if what had been said back in Brooklyn had changed anything.
‘I plan to,’ he smiled. ‘I’d just rather I gave it to you now.’
She shrugged. ‘Okay, but just for a moment. I really need to get back, and it’s probably not a good idea for me to be seen here, either.’
The building’s lobby was mercifully empty and they didn’t speak in the elevator, both avoiding the other’s eyes. He pushed the key in the door and, as it opened, Brooke knew it was a bad idea her being here.
There was just a single lamp casting low light around the room, and suddenly Brooke felt exposed and thrillingly vulnerable.
Standing in front of her, Matt took off his coat. His back was wide and muscular and his jumper had ridden up to show a tiny stripe of tanned flesh.
He turned round and they stood and faced one another.
‘Matt, I … ’ She stopped herself. I want you, she said silently.
As if he had read her mind, he took a step nearer towards her, his green eyes lingering on hers until he brought his hand to her cheek.
