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‘This is really important, David,’ said Brooke, trying to control her annoyance. ‘And he’s not being theatrical he’s just putting the food in context.’
David laughed lightly and shook his head. ‘Honey, I think you need to reassess your definition of “important”.’
‘So you don’t think our wedding is important?’
‘Of course it’s important. Jewel Cay is important. I needed to see it and I love it; I couldn’t think of a more magical place to marry you in. But I’m being honest here: do I care if we have tea–smoked duck blinis or mini foie–gras mousses? Frankly, I don’t.’ She recoiled, piqued at his flippancy.
I’m beginning to wonder how much you actually care about the wedding, period,’ she snapped. ‘If it’s relative to how much you’ve done for it, then I’m beginning to think you don’t care a great deal.’
She knew she was being a little unfair. David’s workload was twice hers, but it annoyed her that he seemed quite content to leave every last detail and decision to her. She mused suddenly if he would be like this if he was marrying Alicia Wintrop, and then stopped herself.
All she wanted was for David to hug her and reassure her that he wanted to marry her more than anything in the world, but instead he ran his hand through his hair irritably.
‘Brooke, I have had a really tough week,’ he said. ‘I was just hoping this could be a break for us too. I mean, how often do we get away together these days?’
‘And how often do we get married?’
David looked at her. ‘I didn’t come all this way to get into a fight.’
‘Well, I didn’t start it.’
‘Neither did I.’
There was a tense pause and Brooke turned away, frowning more in puzzlement than anger. One of the reasons she’d been so sure that David was the right man for her was because they didn’t row and always felt so easy and natural in each other’s company. But recently, they’d had arguments about David’s ex, Alicia Wintrop, and her involvement in the Oracle story, a spat about the bodyguard, plus dozens of other little cross words and disagreements. Each of them had been patched up by flowers or sex, but it all left an anxious feeling hovering over her like a black cloud.
‘So why are we arguing, David?’ she asked. ‘Ever since we became engaged that’s all we seem to have been doing.’
His voice was cold. ‘That’s a slight exaggeration.’
‘Well, shall I be a little more specific then?’ she continued. ‘We argue whenever you’re around, which hasn’t been a great deal, has it?’
‘So this is what it’s really about? My job? Because I’m not in New York twenty–four/seven? Is that why you’ve been running around having lunch dates with Matt Palmer.
‘I met up with Matt once.’ Brooke wished she’d never told him and was certainly glad she hadn’t mentioned it was a six–hour round trip into Pennsylvania. ‘It was just to say thanks for him looking at my foot.’
‘Of course, his tender loving care,’ he said sarcastically.
She looked at him as if observing a stranger. She’d never thought he’d be capable of jealousy, it just wasn’t part of his personality; he had too much old–money self–confidence for that.
‘David, when have I ever complained to you about seeing female friends?’ It was true, she didn’t complain, but it sometimes bothered her. She was glad David wasn’t like his father and brother, traditional old–money Alpha males who frequented private ‘men–only’ clubs like the Racquet and Tennis Club, and huddled together after dinner to talk about sports and stocks and shares. But David had an uncommon amount of female friends, especially at work, who were always calling him up to ask him to lunch or just ‘catch up’. It certainly bothered her, even if she didn’t show it.
David looked over at her and his eyes softened. ‘What’s really wrong here, Brooke? You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?’
His expression was grave and earnest; Brooke called it his ‘big story’ face, the face he pulled when reporting from war zones or disaster areas. God, is that what he’s thinking about our relationship? she wondered.
‘You know there’s something wrong, David,’ she said quietly. ‘Remember how good things were before we decided to get married?’
A deep frown appeared between his brows. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to get married?’
He sounded like David Frost quizzing Richard Nixon.
‘No,’ she said, honestly. ‘But don’t you miss the time when we could go to the movies, or eat hot dogs in Central Park without it being a circus?’
She had thought a lot lately about what point it had all become so crazy. The press attention had sneaked up on her. At first it was the odd photograph of them in US Weekly or People of them coming from a party, the occasional chase down the street by an enthusiastic pap. That had actually been quite exciting the first few times. Brooke supposed that before they had gone public as a couple there was no reason to suppose David’s relationship with her was any more serious than it had been with any of his other girlfriends. But their engagement in February had caught the media by surprise. The day the story broke there had been at least fifty reporters outside her apartment.
‘Yes, I loved that time,’ said David, ‘But I love the time we spend together now too. I know I’m busy, but won’t be forever, honey, I promise.’
He reached out for her and pulled her into his arms. ‘That scarf looks really pretty on you.’
