Brooke watched as her dad walked over and embraced her surprised but clearly delighted husband, and she felt a surge of gratitude to her father. It was exactly the sort of thing Julian had waited a lifetime for his own father to say, and if it wasn’t going to come from him, she was happy he’d get to hear it from her family. Julian thanked her dad and quickly took his seat again, and although he was obviously embarrassed to be the center of attention, Brooke could see how pleased he was. She reached over and squeezed his hand and he squeezed it back twice as hard.
The waiters had just begun bringing out the appetizers when Julian leaned over to Brooke and asked if they could go to the restaurant’s main room for a moment to talk privately.
“Is this your way of getting me into the bathroom?” she whispered as she followed Julian. “Can you imagine the scandal? I just hope if we’re caught, it’s Sasha’s mother who catches us. . . .”
Julian led her into the hallway where the restrooms were, and Brooke yanked on his arm. “I really was just kidding,” she said.
“Rook, I just got a call from Leo,” he said, leaning against a bench.
“Oh yeah?”
“He’s out in L.A. now, and I guess he’s been having a bunch of meetings on my behalf.” Julian looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped.
“And? Anything exciting?”
With this, Julian couldn’t contain himself anymore. A huge smile broke out on his face, and although Brooke had an immediate gut feeling that the something exciting was going to be something she didn’t like, she mirrored him and smiled right back.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
“Well, actually . . .” Julian’s voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide. “He said that Vanity Fair wants to include me with a group of up-and-coming young artists for the October or November cover. A cover, can you believe it?”
Brooke wrapped her arms around his neck.
Julian brushed his lips quickly against her and pulled away first. “And guess what? Annie Leibovitz is shooting it.”
“You’re joking!”
He grinned. “I’m not. It’s going to be me and four other artists. Mixed mediums, I think. Leo thought they’d probably do a musician, a painter, an author, that sort of thing. And guess where they’re going to shoot it? At the Chateau.”
“Of course they are. We’re going to be regulars!” She was already mentally calculating how she could miss the least amount of work and still accompany him. There was also the issue of what to pack. . . .
“Brooke.” Julian’s voice betrayed nothing but his expression was pained.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry to do this to you, but I’ve got to leave right now. Leo booked me on a six o’clock flight out of JFK tomorrow morning, and I still need to get back to New York and grab some things from the studio.”
“You’re leaving now?” she sputtered, realizing Julian’s ticket for one was already booked, and although he was doing his best to appear solemn faced, he couldn’t contain his excitement.
Instead, he hugged her and scratched the spot between her shoulders. “I know it sucks, baby. I’m sorry this is so last-minute, and I’m sorry I have to leave in the middle of your dad’s party, but—”
“Before.”
“What?”
“You’re not leaving in the middle of the party, you’re leaving before we even eat.”
He was silent. For a moment she wondered if he was going to tell her the entire thing was a big joke, that he didn’t have to go anywhere.
“How are you getting home?” she finally asked, her voice tinged with resignation.
He pulled her into a hug. “I called a taxi to the train station so no one has to leave. That way you’ll have the car to get back tomorrow. Does that work?”
“Sure.”
“Brooke? I love you, baby. And I’m going to take you out to celebrate everything as soon as I’m back. It’s all good stuff, you know?”
Brooke forced a smile for his sake. “I know it is. And I’m excited for you.”
“I think I’m back on Tuesday, but I’m not totally sure,” he said, kissing her softly on the lips. “Leave all the planning to me, okay? I’d like for us to do something special.”
“I’d like that too.”
“Will you wait for me here?” he asked. “I’m just going to run back in and quickly say good-bye to your dad. I don’t want to draw all sorts of attention to myself. . . .”
“Honestly, I think it’d be better if you just went,” Brooke said, and she could see his relief. “I’ll explain what happened. They’ll understand.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
They walked hand-in-hand together down the stairs and managed to escape to the parking lot without running into any of the party guests or her family. Brooke once again assured Julian that it was better this way, that she would explain everything to her father and Cynthia and thank Randy and Michelle for their hospitality, and that all of it was preferable to making a big good-bye scene where he’d need to explain himself a hundred times over. He tried to look solemn when he kissed her good-bye and whispered his love, but the moment the taxi came into view, he bounded toward it like an excited golden retriever going after a tennis ball. Brooke reminded herself to give him a big smile and a happy wave, but the taxi pulled away before Julian could turn around and wave back. She headed back inside, alone.
She glanced at her watch and wondered if she had time for a run after her last appointment and before going to Nola’s. She committed to making it happen just as she remembered that it was ninety-three degrees outside and only an insane person would run anywhere in that kind of heat.
There was a knock on her door. It was her first session with Kaylie since the new school year had begun, and she was eager to see the girl. Her e-mails had been sounding more and more positive, and Brooke was confident that she was well on her way to adjusting to school. But when the door opened, it was Heather who walked in.
“Hey, what’s up? Thanks again for the coffee this morning.”
“Oh, my pleasure. Listen, I just wanted to let you know that Kaylie won’t be making her appointment today. She’s home with some sort of stomach flu.”