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He looked at her and all she could see in his eyes was pain. ‘Do I?’
He was right. What could he possibly know about her feelings when, here she was, hours away from their wedding, completely unsure of what she felt, of what she really wanted? Thousands of happy memories flashed through her mind: those first dates, their trips to the Hamptons, the Bahamas, even just sharing breakfast in bed on a Saturday, lazily swapping snippets from the morning papers. But was he the one? Her one true love? Was it unrealistic to think that – out of all the billions of people in the world – you could find the one person that was a perfect fit?
Brooke certainly knew that she had compromised with David. He was handsome, clever, kind, and she adored him, there was no question about that; but neither was there any question that signing up to a life with David was a life of standing two steps behind him, a curious mixture of living both in the public eye and yet in the shadows. Maybe that was what she might have wanted once, when she and her Brown friends went walking along the cliff–path below David’s home, but now it felt as if she were cheating herself, cheating herself out of a happier life. Brooke knew she could lie to him, she could back–pedal, fudge the facts, tell him it all meant nothing. But it did, it had. Whatever and whoever Matt had turned out to be, it had been more than a silly fling; it had been her own heart telling her something.
‘This isn’t about you, David,’ she said finally. ‘I love you. I know it doesn’t sound like it right now, but I do, I honestly do. This is about our lives, it’s about the life we would have together.’
‘But if you’re unhappy with the way I–’ he began, but she cut him off.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s not that I’m unhappy with you, honey. Don’t ever think that. I’m just unhappy with our lives.’
The relief she felt in finally admitting it out loud was almost physical. Her back straightened and her ears sang. It was as if she was finally taking a step towards freedom, but she realized with a terrible sinking feeling that that freedom could mean giving up David.
‘What’s happened to you, Brooke?’ he asked, unable to disguise his pain. ‘There’s a million girls who’d want to swap places with you.’
‘Maybe,’ she said slowly, ‘maybe you’re right.’
Her stomach clenched with fear, but then out of nowhere she thought of Eileen Dunne and their first lunch together at the London hotel.
‘Someone told me once that marriage isn’t just about love,’ said Brooke, finding strength and courage in the words. ‘It’s about wanting to go on life’s adventure with your chosen partner.’
‘So you don’t want to do that with me?’ His tone was desperate and woeful.
She reached up and touched his face tenderly. ‘More than anything, David. But I just don’t think we want to go on the same adventure.’
He blinked at her, as if she had said something unfathomable.
‘So that’s it,’ he said flatly.
Suddenly Brooke felt overcome with an unfamiliar emotion: anger. Anger at the situation, anger at him, anger for him. He had been bred for this life; he had never chosen it himself. This kind, sensitive man was being pushed into something he’d never asked for.
‘Is this really the life you want, David?’ she asked. ‘The politics, the ambition? Is this really all you’ve ever wanted?’
‘Of course, I … ’
‘Okay, so if you wanted to be president one day so badly, why aren’t you running for Congress next year? Why are you putting it off for the Washington show? I know you love working in television, but that’s not just it, is it?’
‘You know this, Brooke,’ he said with irritation. ‘The Washington show is a positioning tool; it raises my profile and sets me up as a serious political player.’
‘Oh bullshit!’ spat Brooke, surprised at herself. ‘You’re just postponing the inevitable.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Taking up a life someone else chose for you.’
Indecision flickered across his face and then it was gone. ‘This life might have been chosen for me, Brooke, but it’s what I want.’
‘It’s not,’ she said, grabbing both his shoulders. ‘You’re too honest; you’re too decent for the life they want for you. Why are you doing it? Why?’
‘It’s what I want,’ he repeated, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.
‘Well it’s you I want, David. Not your life, not your family – you. If you still want me, then maybe it doesn’t have to end like this,’ she said desperately, tears beginning to roll down her face. ‘We can have another life, David. We can start again somewhere else. London, LA; anywhere where you’re not being crushed by the weight of expectation.’
‘I have ambitions too, Brooke,’ he said softly. ‘It’s not just my family; I want to succeed for myself. Yes, they have certain expectations of me, I’m aware of that – no, I respect that, because I happen to think family is important. But I’m not a robot, I can make my own choices.’
Brooke listened to the slow laps of water rolling towards them and thought about the cruel irony of the setting. This was how their relationship had begun eighteen months ago, a first kiss on a beach in bright moonlight. Now their relationship seemed destined to finish in exactly the same way. Perhaps it was the pressure his family had brought to bear on him over a lifetime of conditioning, or perhaps it was genuinely David’s own choice to pursue politics. Either way, he was unwilling to compromise those ambitions for her. And, for her part, she was unwilling to compromise herself. She was unwilling to become part of the Billington machine, but, more than that, she was unwilling to become a part of David. And that was the saddest thing of all. Finally, Brooke began to sob.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, ‘I never meant to hurt you. I do love you.’
