Chapter Ten

Zoey

Seeing Brent in a towel earlier was exactly the distraction that I needed. The nerves of heading downstairs to the bar to face Liam and Shelby were starting to get to me.

The man is a Greek statue with chiseled muscles and a sharp jawline—a girl's wet dream. Add in that he plays a physically demanding and brutal sport, and Brent's sex appeal is off the charts. It's no wonder that there's never a shortage of women interested in him, and it's even more reason why thinking that I ever had a chance with Brent was silly.

Initially, it was the real reason I agreed to go out with Liam.

Liam was a talented hockey player, although not at Brent's ability.

Liam had other qualities, too. He was popular in school… smart and attractive, and best of all… he was interested.

Deep down, I always knew that Brent was out of my league. Far prettier and more popular girls from our school were all vying for Brent's attention, though he seemed to pour most of his attention into hockey rather than relationships. That seems to be one thing that hasn't changed much over the years.

After a short time, Liam won me over with his sweet, yet sometimes overly expensive gestures and eagerness to take me out and show me off. Liam made me feel special, just like Brent did with his secret snacks and notes in Spanish.

Liam was attainable and realistic. It didn't take long for me to fall for him.

My belly turns as we take the elevator down to the lobby floor, where the bar and wedding party are waiting for us.

I feel a little relief to have already seen Liam when we first arrived, but now I will spend the next few hours watching him with Shelby.

Brent offers his arm for me to hold onto. I wrap my hand around his biceps.

It gives us that little bit of physical connection to make us look like a real couple while also ensuring that I don't slip on these glossy stone tiles.

Walking into the bar, I see that the place is decorated with twinkle lights and Christmas ornaments wrapped around tinsel and strung out in the dark wood rafters of the Irish pub-style interior.

Light Christmas music streams through the sound system as we walk in.

"You're here. Finally," I hear Phoebe say.

I look around for her until I spot her waving her hands in the air.

She's sitting with David at a large round table in the corner of the bar, surrounded by a few of the groomsmen and bridesmaids.

I can't help that my attention broadens the rest of the room when I notice that neither Liam nor Shelby is anywhere to be seen.

Then, I spot them in a corner of the room. Shelby doesn't look happy. Her arms are folded over her chest as Liam seems to be trying to discuss something with her. He seems a little worked up over the conversation.

Liam turns his head, finally noticing that we entered the room. His eyes lock on me as Brent leads me through the bar. I watch as he takes in my dress, his eyes hooding slightly. After a decade of dating, I know the look that Liam gets when he's interested in something.

"Oh my God, that dress is stunning," Sarah, my sister's best friend and bridesmaid says, glancing over my dress, her blue eyes cascading down my figure.

She's dressed in a short mini black dress, her blonde hair up in a high pony tale.

Sarah was a grade older than my sister and Liam, so she wasn't around for any of the drama between me and Brent, or the breakup between me and Liam.

"Is that the dress?" Phoebe asks, leaning over the table a little to see it better.

She's the one who found it online and told me that this would be the perfect revenge dress.

I ordered it a month ago but wasn't completely committed to wearing it for the wedding weekend at the time. Then I decided that if I want one last attempt to make Liam realize what he gave up, this was my last chance.

It's not as if we bump into each other regularly while living in different states.

So far, the dress seems to be getting the correct attention. Even Brent gave the dress a once-over when I first walked out of the bathroom. Though he didn't actually comment on it, it took just as much time for him to lose interest and head straight to the bathroom to take a shower.

"Take a seat. We're going through our most embarrassing high school stories," David says.

It's obvious that everyone is already several beers in at this point, and no amount of alcohol will convince me to tell my most embarrassing story while sitting next to the man who caused it.

Brent pulls out one of the chairs for me, and I take a seat.

"Thanks," I tell him.

"What do you want to drink? I'll put in an order at the bar," he asks me.

I think for a second. I need something good for this. "A whiskey sour please."

If this is how the night is going, then I'd better prepare.

"Smart choice," he grins. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Brent comes back with our drinks and takes the open chair next to me.

"Okay, Tomlin, let's hear it. Most embarrassing high school story," David says.

Brent smiles as he thinks of something funny. Brent has always been a great storyteller and back in high school he used to have some hilarious stories of the hockey team and the trouble they'd get in.

Brent opens his mouth to tell his story when one of David's groomsmen, Ben, a guy that Brent and David used to play high school baseball with, pipes up.His chocolate brown hair styled, and his dress shirt and slacks give him a polished look. So different from how he was in high school.

He was a grade below us but a hell of a good ball player.

"Oh, I have a good one," he starts up. "Hey, Liam," he yells, breaking up Liam and Shelby's conversation, which seems to have gotten worse based on the daggers Liam is shooting at Ben for interrupting them.

"What?" Liam asks, his eyes shifting to me for a second and then back to Ben.

"What was the nickname that the hockey team had for Brent again? Pippy long… something? Right?" Ben asks.

What the heck kind of nickname is that? I certainly had never heard it before and being at the hockey games, you pick up on team nicknames.

Liam's face almost turns white as if that nickname represents something that shouldn't be discussed. His narrowed stare shifts to Brent.

Liam shakes his head. "I don't remember," he says and then he glances back at me for a moment.

Brent looks over at Ben, too. "Hey, drop it, man."

"No… it was Stiffy Longstocking," David pipes up with a chuckle.

The entire table chuckles at the nickname. The name is a little absurd and not all that original, but when I look over at Brent, I see that he isn't laughing. Instead, he's looking over at Liam with the same look he reserves for an opponent out on the ice, right before he strikes.

Is Liam responsible for the nickname?

Is that why there is such bad blood between them?

Is Brent right that Ben should have left it alone?

The Brent I know from high school would have laughed at the nickname, even at his own expense. Something feels off here.

"That's right," Ben laughs, taking a swig of his beer. "It was because you showed up at practice with a boner for Zoey, wasn't it? She jumped you because of a clown in one of your classes?"

My cheeks warm and my belly flips at Ben's explanation. I rub the gloss on my lips together, trying to hide the look of shock on my face.

I remember the clown—but not the boner.

"Fucking idiot." I hear Liam mutter.

He stands straight out of his chair and starts trudging out of the bar with Shelby chasing after him.

"Shut the fuck up, Ben," Brent says, turning to him.

Whoa, things are starting to get a little out of control now. I doubt anyone was expecting the embarrassing stories to turn out like this.

"What?" Ben says, lifting his hands up in question. "I don't know why everyone's so touchy about it. You're dating Zoey now. She must give you boners all the time."

I heart stutters for a second and I dart my gaze to Brent—this is mortifying.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" Phoebe jumps in, coming to defend me. "I think you've had enough."

She pulls the beer from Ben's hand and slides it to the other side of her.

Realizing that we need a dramatic change of conversation, Phoebe's new stand-in maid of honor, and our cousin, Christine turns to me, a twinkle in her light brown eyes. She's a couple years younger than me but we all grew up together and she's more like a sister to us than a cousin.

"How is that honeymoon suite? The pictures online look amazing," she beams.

I'm relieved that the conversation has shifted, though I'm curious if the nickname is true and if Brent really did get aroused when I jumped into his lap in our Spanish class. Not that it means anything. It was high school, and some things can't always be helped. Was he actually attracted to me?

The idea seems unlikely.

I probably just rubbed against his lap and his cock didn't realize it was only me.

"The honeymoon suite is really nice, though I wish Brent wouldn't have spent the money on it. I would have been happy with a standard room, but they were completely sold out."

"No way… Brent totally owes you for that room you rented during your senior prom. That place was pretty expensive too if I remember," Abigail, Phoebe's other bridesmaid, and the college friend who booked the prom night hotel for me.

I totally forgot until just now that it was her that the reservation was under since she was old enough to rent it for me.

"Wait, what room?" Brent asks, his eyes shifting from mine to Phoebe's friend.

"It's nothing," I say quickly, cutting eye contact with him.

Instead, I watch Ben reach for David's beer and take a swig.

"Wait, did you even go to our senior prom?" Ben asks. "Now that I think of it, I don't remember you being there."

Oh God, this is my worst nightmare.

Now, the most embarrassing moment of high school is going to get told anyway, and the cherry on top? Brent is going to find out that I actually thought he was interested in me when he asked me to prom.

He's going to find out that I planned an entire night with him, only for him to cancel.

He's going to feel pity for me, and that might even be the worst of it.

"I booked the room you and Zoey had for your senior prom night. You're welcome," Abigail teases, pulling her wine glass to her lips, the red liquid hitting her lips.

It's not her fault. I asked Phoebe not to tell her that I never used it. She has no idea that Brent stood me up.

And if Brent and I had actually spent the night together as I had planned, I would be blushing right now instead of thinking of the quickest exit out of this bar.

I could die right now… in this chair.

I look over at Phoebe, and I can see the look of complete helplessness at her inability to save me from the worst nightmare—Brent knowing about the room I rented.

"You know what…. I'm not feeling all that well. I think I'm going to head up to my room," I say, already slinking out of my chair and looking for the quickest exit.

"Zoey, what room is she talking about?" Brent asks.

He slips out of his chair right after me.

I start taking quick steps toward the bar exit, but my stomach turns when I see Brent in my peripheral, matching me step for step, following me.

Can't he just let me slink off and pretend this didn't happen?

Can't he feel how desperate I am to distance myself from this truth bomb before it really blows up in my face.

"It's nothing, Brent," I say.

I make it out past the bar entry and head straight for the elevator.

"It sounds like something because you just left a party for your sister's wedding. I don't think you'd do that for nothing."

I hit the elevator button, and luckily, the doors open immediately, letting me in.

I feel Brent's large presence enter into the elevator with me, but I don't dare look back.

I take a few steps in and then turn around to face the closing doors. I lean up against the back of the elevator wall. Brent steps to the side, hitting our floor number and then joins me at the back of the elevator.

The elevator starts moving before I utter a word.

"You should go back and visit with everyone. I'm just going to lie down for a little bit," I tell him.

I look up to find him waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him.

"Did you rent a room for us the night of prom?" he asks softly, his eyes on me but I don't meet his gaze.

"Maybe," I say with a shrug. "But it doesn't matter."

He takes a small step closer. "What if it matters to me?"

"Why?" I ask, my eyes reaching up to his finally. "So, you can pity the girl who spent a small fortune on a hotel room, and a Brazilian wax, for the star hockey player who'd rather shoot goals on a block of ice than to take her to prom out of obligation?"

He rears back but stays close.

"Obligation?" he asks, shaking his head like he has no idea what I mean.

I roll my eyes and then stare at the distorted reflection of us in the metal elevator. "As if I don't feel stupid enough for thinking you wanted to take me in the first place?" I mutter softly.

I drop my vision down to my black heels, staring at the stark contrast between my shoes and the lighter cream tiles of the elevator.

He's so close as it is, but he takes the last half step closer, his black dress shoes coming toe to toe with my open-toe French tip pedicure.

His feet seem three times the size as my much smaller ones. Just another way that I pale in comparison.

"Please look at me, Zoey," he says.

His index finger slides gently under my chin, but he doesn't force my head up.

Instead, I relent to his patient touch on me, tilting my head back to see him more clearly.

The lights of the elevator shine down against his back, outlining his stature.

Brent is larger than life and has carved out his place in the NHL, and all I want is to find where I fit in, too. I thought that place was with Liam, but I guess I was wrong.

"Did you really get a Brazilian for me?" he asks with a slight smirk.

I slap his hand away from my chin, trying not to blush again and turn my head.

I didn't mean to admit that, but he could have pretended not to hear it.

"Is that really what you took from what I admitted to you? That I got waxed?" I growl.

He snickers. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to lighten the mood a little. There were a lot of things said downstairs and since you're upset about them, maybe we should discuss a couple of them."

"Like what?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and looking over at the elevator floor number that still hasn't moved since he hit the closed-door button.

"For starters," he says, now staring at our reflection in the elevator as well. "Did you really rent a room for us to use after prom?"

I want to deny it, but at this point. What does is matter anymore? Abigail outed me.

"I don't know… did you really get an erection when I sat on your lap? And did the entire hockey team know it was because of me?" I ask, becoming bolder than I usually am.

He nods. "Yeah."

Oh…

I glance up at him. "I'm sorry," I say.

"I'm not. Except for who I confided in about it."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Who did you confide in?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done and I learned my lesson… twice." he lets out a heavy breath.

"That guy must be a jerk."

"He is," he nods, and then looks down at our feet.

"Can I ask another question?" I ask, looking up at him again.

"Sure."

I look down at his perfectly fitted slacks and he follows my line of sight.

"Why did it get hard?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Didn't we take the same anatomy class junior year? Do you need me to explain arousal and blood flow?"

I cover my face to hide the very obvious blush that's about to bloom on my cheeks.

"No… I guess I didn't mean how . I suppose I meant, why did it get hard for me?" I ask, meeting his eyes again.

Though this conversation makes me want to squirm out of here as quickly as possible, I also know that this is the most honest he and I have been with each other in years—maybe ever.

I need to see how far this honesty will go and if he'll finally tell me why he ditched me at prom. Or at the very least, why he even bothered to ask me to go with him at all.

"Because you're gorgeous and because I've thought about having you in my lap for as long as I've known you."

He has?

My pulse kicks up and there's a warmth low in my belly at his admission.

I bite down on my lip at the thought that Brent was attracted to me back then and I had no idea.

It's a little hard to imagine but I don't think he would lie to me about this. He could have just chalked it up to, " I'm a guy… I have no control over it," and I would have accepted that explanation.

"When you say you've thought about having me in your lap… do you mean present or past tense?" I ask, going for broke at this point.

I've never been brave enough to be this open with Brent before but something about this protected space in the elevator where it's just me and him, makes me feel a sense of urgency to get all my questions out before this moment of courage fades again.

The elevator door dings and opens but Brent steps forward and hits the "close" button. The elevator doors close again, sealing up back inside and then turns back to me.

"I think you've used up all your follow-up questions. It's your turn to answer my question."

I run my hand up the side of my arm and let out a sigh. Being this honest with Brent is hard but it's only fair, and now that I know he was at least physically attracted to me at one point during our years together, I feel a little less self-conscious about the bold plans I'd made for us and that hotel room.

"I asked Abigail to reserve a room for us since I wasn't old enough to book it myself," I admit, tucking my hair behind my ear and stare down at the floor.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he says softly.

"What difference would it have made? Would I have been worth taking to prom if you knew I was planning on putting out for you?" I say, a little bitter at the thought now.

Now I'm glad I didn't tell him about the room beforehand. My embarrassment could have been exponentially worse. Then Liam and I might not have gotten back together that next morning if he knew that I had slept with his best friend the night before.

"It would have changed everything," he says, stepping closer. "I wouldn't have let you go after that without a fight."

"Without a fight?" I ask, looking up at him.

But then the doors to the elevator open and Liam walks up like he's about to enter the elevator until he's startled to see us.

He wasn't expecting us to be standing in an elevator that hasn't moved in the last ten or so minutes.

There's an awkward moment between the three of us that lasts only a second until Liam speaks up.

Liam doesn't enter the elevator. Instead, he stands outside of it with his hand against the side of the door to make sure it doesn't close with Brent and me inside.

"I was just dropping Shelby off in the room. She doesn't feel well," he says, his eyes only on me.

He doesn't bother to look at Brent at all.

I just nod and Brent doesn't say a word. Do we get out now and still head to our suite on this floor or do we go back downstairs with Liam?

"I'm glad I bumped into you. Can I borrow you for a minute?" Liam asks me.

I say yes as Brent says no at exactly the same time.

He and I both whip a look back at one another.

"I didn't think our conversation was over yet," Brent says.

"It'll just take a minute," Liam pleads with me.

Again, Liam looks right through Brent as if he's not the giant six-foot-three man standing between us.

Liam isn't a slouch at six feet, but Brent is broader, too, with more muscle mass.

Liam stopped playing hockey during his senior year of high school and has been working a desk job ever since. The physical difference between the two men is obvious.

Brent searches my face for a second and then looks over his shoulder at Liam.

"Sure Liam, why not? She's all yours," Brent says with a sarcastic tone.

He doesn't look back over at me as he turns towards the control panel of the elevator and pushes the lobby button while adding his hand to the side of the elevator door to keep it from closing.

I guess he's waiting for me to exit.

Liam takes one step inside to make sure it doesn't close before I can exit.

I shift my attention from Liam to Brent.

"Brent—" I start, but he interrupts me.

"I'm going back down to the bar. I'll see you later," he says, standing by the control panel and waiting for me to exit.

A part of me wants to stay with Brent and finish our conversation, but getting Liam's attention was what this whole fake dating ploy was supposed to do.

"Okay," I nod and take steps to exit the elevator.

I want to ask him when he'll be coming back up and if we're going to continue this conversation when he returns. But I have a feeling that if I step out of the elevator, whatever spell came over us to allow us the first moment of honesty between us, will lose its magic.

Even though I still have so many questions I want to ask Brent, I can't deny my curiosity to find out what Liam wants to talk about.

This is the first time that Liam and I have had a chance to speak since I moved to Seattle and this is what I've been angling for, right? I wanted to catch Liam's attention.

Well… it looks like it worked.

Now, I need to find out what Liam wants to discuss.

As soon as I step out, the elevator door closes behind me, leaving me standing in front of Liam.

Liam's eyes roam over my dress for a second.

"You look gorgeous," he says with a grin. The grin I've been waiting nearly a year to see. "I like the dress."

I can't help but blush a little as I smile back.

"Oh this old thing?" I tease.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to make me jealous."

My heart jumps and panic slides across my face. I'm glad he's checking out my figure instead of watching my expression or he might have seen it.

"What do you mean?"

His comment has me wondering if he knows about Brent and I faking it? Were we that obvious downstairs?

"Are you trying to kill me with this dress?" he asks.

I can see the interest in his eyes but I remind myself that he didn't send Shelby home. She's still in his room, waiting for him to return to her tonight.

They both live only an hour from here and he could have broken it off with her already and sent her home.

He hasn't.

So whatever interest he has, it isn't enough. Though to be fair, he does think that I'm in a relationship with Brent.

"Of course, I'm not trying to kill you. I wore this dress for Brent." I tell him, curious to find out how he reacts to me being with someone else.

He practically snorts with dismissal.

"The guy who ditched you and left you alone the night of prom? Your relationship won't last. He'll fuck up again… just wait."

I'm a little annoyed that Liam dismisses me and Brent's relationship so quickly. But then I remind myself that the relationship is fake and that I told Brent that it ends after this weekend.

"You seem so sure about that. But I don't see why you care. You're engaged to someone else. What does it matter if Brent breaks my heart again."

"Again? I thought you were just going to prom with him because I dumped you," he pauses for a second, his eyes wandering over my face. "Did you have feelings for him?"

I didn't mean to tell Liam that in high school I had a little crush on Brent. I had never told Liam, or anyone else for that matter. I suppose Phoebe's had an inkling since she knew about the hotel room and how excited I was to go with Brent to prom.

"Does it matter if I did?" I ask.

Would that hurt him to know?

Do I want it to hurt him?

Maybe a little.

"He's a player, Zoey. I've warned you about him already."

"I don't think you get a say in who I date anymore. You broke up with me, remember? Right before our wedding. And now you're getting married to the woman you left me for, or have you forgotten?"

Liam's eyes flicker down every inch of my body again, but this time slow and deliberate.

"That dress," he says, a frustrated edge to his voice. "Makes me forget a lot of things."

I have a feeling this isn't how he wanted this conversation to go, and I had hoped for something better too. Some kind of admission that he screwed up and that he misses me.

Is he only talking to me because of this dress?

If I would have showed up tonight in sweats with no makeup and my hair a mess, would he have even blinked an eye?

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake? How can I be sure what's motivating him to want to talk to me?

Why can't he just say that he wants another chance and that he's going to break it off with Shelby?

"Well, I haven't forgotten that you're still engaged to someone else," I remind him, crossing my arms over my chest.

I don't want to fight—I still love him, but I can't let him keep hurting me like this. My heart aches at the thought.

"We haven't set a date yet," he confesses, his voice low, almost hesitant. He's searching my face, hoping I'll give him a reason to close the gap between us.

My eyebrows raise, but I do my best to hide my surprise.

I want that to mean something significant, but weddings can take a while to plan, and I should know. Liam took years before proposing, and then we had a three-year engagement. He said he wanted to make VP at his father's real estate firm before we got married.

Not setting a wedding date after only being engaged for six months is hardly a reason to assume that their relationship isn't sturdy, though I wish it gave me some hope.

I hear the door down the hallway open, and then I hear a woman's voice—Shelby's.

"Liam?"

She must have heard us out here and I hate how instantly my stonge pangs with the feeling of being the other woman.

"Yeah?" he says over his shoulder but doesn't look back—his eyes still locked on mine.

"I thought you were just getting ice?" she says.

With the elevators offset from the hallway, she can't see us standing here.

"The ice machine is out of order. I'll be right there," he says.

And just like that, Liam is returning to her. A small realization hits me, and I wonder what excuses he made to me so he could steal moments with her. I think about how many times I'd call, and he'd be at the coffee shop in the morning even though I know that he made coffee before he left for work.

I just assumed since he worked so much that he needed double the caffeine in the morning but now I know that it was her he needed more of. My heart sinks at the thought of it.

I won't be the other woman that Liam tries to sneak moments with.

If he wants me, he needs to prove it and end things with her.

"Okay," she says hesitantly.

Then we both wait, listening for the door to close.

Maybe I should feel guilty for wanting their relationship to end but I spent over ten years with Liam. We had a life together before her. As toxic as it sounds, he was mine first, and as much pain as he has caused me, I still want the life we had planned.

I feel like I'm floating through space ever since he broke it off. I don't know who I am without him.

Does that make me weak?

Everyone else in my world seems to have their lives together. Phoebe is a killer at the advertising agency that she works for, David is the head project manager for Liam's father's firm, Liam became VP last year, and Brent is a superstar with fans swarming him wherever we go.

My photography business is my dream. I love what I do, and I wouldn't change that for anything. But I still feel like there's something I'm missing.

"I should go. I just don't want to see you get hurt, Zoey. You still mean a lot to me."

He sets his hand gently on my arm, and the feeling of his hand on my body is like muscle memory. I'd know his touch even if I was blindfolded.

"You still mean a lot to me too," I tell him, disappointment setting in that nothing has changed.

He smiles.

"I'll walk you to your room," he offers.

I should say no.

I should ask him to take his hand off me.

I should make him realize that he doesn't get to be close to me if he's going to stay with Shelby.

But I guess it turns out that I am weak because I don't say anything. I just take a step towards the hallway, and he follows my lead, taking step for step with me.

We pass by their room, but he doesn't even look over and acknowledge it.

We get to the very end of the hallway where the honeymoon suite is and then I open my black leather clutch and pull out my card key.

Liam waits next to me.

I scan the key, and the light turns green on the door handle. I reach out and turn the door handle, pushing it open as I enter.

Liam pushes the door behind me to widen the entry. He doesn't walk inside; he just ducks his head in and looks around.

"Nice place," he says. "It feels weird to have you down the hall in a room with someone else."

I guess I'm at least relieved that he feels some of the weirdness that I do.

"It could have been different, you know?" I say, emotions finally bubbling to the top.

I hate that in a few seconds, he'll turn around and leave, walking back to his room to climb into bed with her. I feel my eye attempting to fill with tears, but I hold them back. Crying won't help the situation and if I start, I might not be able to stop.

As far as Liam knows, I'm in a relationship with Brent.

He nods and then his eyes lock onto something on the floor.

I follow his line of sight to see that he's looking at Brent's open luggage further into the room near the mirrored desk.

His jaw tightens for a second and then he turns away, letting the soft-close door go.

"Night, Zoey," he says.

The door closes behind him. The sound of the door clicking closed between us has those held back tears demanding an exit.

By now, most people at the bar have probably left to rest up for tomorrow. Brent will be back any time, and I have no idea if he'll be expecting more honesty but all I have energy for now, is a long soak in the bath.