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Brooke Wyndham reminded Emmett a lot of an older version of Elle. He figured it was because they were both from California, had bright blonde hair, and were both endlessly energetic like they were permanently pumped up with prescription levels of Prozac. The only huge difference between them, really, was that Elle was so bubbly and sweet that it could give people toothaches just to speak to her. Brooke, however, was not.
Brooke was more of what he’d expected Elle to be like before they spoke for the first time. She had made a sarcastic comment when Enid tried to say something about them being ‘sisters’, had firmly stood her ground with a deadpan stare when they tried to push for an alibi. She wasn’t afraid to be snippy with Callahan when he tried to pick apart her story, either. Emmett wasn’t really surprised. Brooke was on trial for the apparent murder of her ex husband, of course she was sharp around the edges.
The only person he’d never seen her be obtuse to was Elle and, for some reason, him.
He tried to credit that to him just being polite to her. Maybe it was because she liked Elle, and Elle liked him. It wasn’t anything to overthink about, until one day, it was.
They were with her again today, Brooke in handcuffs as they spread out their papers and tried to plan out their first witness testimonies. Callahan was being pulled away for an important phone call, already frustrated by Brooke’s attitude and probably wise enough to step away before he snapped. Enid was out sick, Warner and Vivian had been sent away to visit Wyndham’s ex wife at a spa retreat in downtown Boston, and Elle had just offered to run out for refills on their coffee. Her hand lingered on Emmett’s shoulder as she passed by, smiling all the while as she left the room.
And then it was just him and the defendant. Brooke.
He’d never been alone with her before, always accompanied by at least one person from the rest of the team at any given time. He wondered if this would be good or bad for his odds at getting her to cooperate. She was alone with Elle back when she shared her alibi, and although Emmett was a scruffy, broke, brunette grad school alum where Elle was a polished, wealthy, blonde, former UCLA cheerleader and sorority president, he knew Brooke didn’t exactly hate him. She didn’t hate him like she hated Callahan, but then again, Brooke seemed to hate everyone.
He cleared his throat. It was best to move on with business as usual. “So, Ms. Wyndham, another thing we wanted to touch on today was the possibility of Mr. Argitakos working against you. I know you said your relationship with him was nothing but appropriate, and we understand that one hundred percent. But if he was as easily swayed by money as you say, then—“
“What’s going on with you and Elle?” Brooke asked loudly, cutting him off. Emmett nearly choked on his own breath.
He punched at his chest a little, sputtering, and shoved down a nervous laugh. The older woman was looking at him with observant eyes.
He just smiled politely. “I’m sorry?”
“I have a vision for these kinds of things,” Brooke said, leaning forward a little. The chain of her handcuffs rattled against the table, smile white and perfect. Her teeth were probably as artificial as her platinum blonde hair. “I can tell something is up with you two. You like her, don’t you?”
His heart was in his chest. He looked at her inquisitively, trying to scan her face up and down for something to retort with. How did she know? He’d never told anyone that before. How could a thirty year old woman who’s only known them for a few weeks tell that he was so obsessed with Elle that it felt like he couldn’t breathe sometimes?
It was best to deny. To steer this conversation back to something more appropriate for a lawyer and their client.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, Ms. Wyndham,” he said politely, smoothing out the folder of documents in front of him instead of paying any attention to the knowing look she was giving off. “But Elle and I are just friends.”
Brooke raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“She’s a brilliant student and a fantastic person,” he said easily. He thought of the countless nights in the fall they would spend working together, the cans of redbull they tore through and lists of vocabulary words she aced. He thought of their trip to the department store last week, the one where he realized he was in love with her. “And she is, of course, an amazing friend. But her eyes are on Warner, not me. I don’t know if you knew that already.”
“The guy with the jawline and the hair?”
Emmett nodded. “Yes.”
“And the girlfriend who always looks annoyed?”
He shouldn’t have been surprised that Brooke hadn’t remembered their names. “That’s the one.”
“Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “Huh.”
They fell to silence. Emmett tried his absolute hardest to not ask about that that last part. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. But he was a weak man when it came to Elle, and he was only human. He hoped Callahan didn’t come back within the next minute or so. “What makes you say that?”
“I just thought you two would be a lot better suited for each other,” she said casually, picking at her nail. “I see the way you look at her. You seem like a smart boy, so I’m sure you see how she looks at you, too.”
The insinuation made his face burn. “Oh.”
“So you are interested in her.”
“No. I mean—I—“ he shook his head again. “No, Ms. Wyndham. She’s just a friend.”
“Just a friend?”
“Yes, like I said.”
“Hm.”
And then Brooke shifted.
She sat forward in her seat more, his eyes never leaving her as she slowly rose to her feet. There was something conniving in her expression. He knew it was always important to believe your defendant’s word and act in their best interest, but he wondered if this is how her ex husband might have felt in the moments before she (may or may not have) killed him. In that same moment, he wondered if a guard was nearby. He wondered if Elle or Callahan or even Warner or Vivian would be back soon.
And then she leaned over the table, hands planted in front of him so he was staring up at her with wide surprise. He was sitting all the way back into his chair, shrunken in on himself, trying to maintain a healthy distance. She was still handcuffed. She was in custody for a crime.
She peered down at him, eyes half lidded in a way that, if he wasn’t being insane, he would almost call flirtatious.
“That’s a shame,” she said faux-sweetly, the light above them framing her head like a halo. “I could use a friend like you, too.”
He gulped.
“Uh.”
“Do you think Elle would mind? Since you both are just friends, and all.”
“Ms. Wyndham, I don’t think this is appropriate.”
“You are really cute,” she said, face less than a foot from his. “And to think she could ever pass this up. Are you into blondes, Forrest? Or is it just her in particular?”
Oh god please make it stop.
“I bet she would be jealous.”
Nope. Nope, nope, “Ms. Wyndham, please don’t—“
“Emmett?”
Both of their heads whipped towards the door, where Elle stood with a brown drink carrier full of fresh coffees. Emmett’s breaths were heavier than normal, heart pounding, nearly falling out of his chair from where he tried to avoid Brooke above him. Brooke didn’t move.
And really, Emmett couldn’t believe it—Elle looked kind of pissed.
The door clicked shut behind her. She approached the table, heels clicking against the linoleum floor, and placed the carrier down on the table sharply. Her smile was sickeningly fake and polite the entire time, and Brooke finally moved away from him, sitting back down. Emmett couldn’t take his eyes off of Elle.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said sweetly.
“Oh, not at all,” Brooke said, waving a hand in the air with a smile. “I was just asking Emmett if he was looking for a dinner date after this trial ends. Elle, you’re gunning for that other intern, right? What’s his name… Walker? Wagner…”
“Warner,” both he and Elle said at the same time, looking at each other right after with puzzled looks. Elle shook her head. “Um—well, Warner is actually engaged to Vivian, and I’m kind of just focusing on my career right now! So no, not really.”
“So you two have nothing going on after all!” she said innocently, gesturing between Emmett and Elle. “That’s wonderful. It’s so nice to hear that no one else is interested in you, Emmett. Lucky me.” She batted her eyelashes. “I’ve always had a thing for lawyers.”
His face was burning. “Brooke, I don’t know what you’re doing, but—“
“You’re wrong,” Elle’s voice cut in.
And everything else went dead silent.
Emmett could hear his own heartbeat.
“I’m sorry?” Brooke chirped.
“You’re wrong, Brooke,” Elle said again, emptying the pocket of her blazer and tossing a heap of small creamer cups and splenda packets into the middle of the table. Emmett watched her movements, the tension that locked into her shoulders and made a blood vessel pop out of her temple. She was always fantastic at keeping her cool in front of people she didn’t want to falter in front of. “Emmett is not available for dinner,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Because someone else is interested in him.”
The pieces fell into place. His head whipped back to Brooke, who looked increasingly satisfied as the conversation played out. “Oh? And who would that be?”
Elle’s hand planted firmly against his shoulder.
“Take a guess,” she said, and Emmett was a puddle.
—
Later, as Callahan returned, Vivian and Warner came back from their side quest, and Emmett and Elle had steered the topic back to relevancy, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Elle had proclaimed about him just an hour before. He kept stealing glances at her, pen tapping at the paper in front of him in a quiet rhythm, just to find her already looking at him and blushing back.
She liked him back. She actually liked him back.
Time finally arrived for Brooke to return to her cell. As the rest of the group packed up their files, tucking things into their respective briefcases and collecting their bearings, Emmett turned to give Brooke a respectful farewell. The guards were already at her back, guiding her through the door.
She winked at him, smiling cheekily.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled back. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed.
‘You’re welcome,’ she mouthed back, and as soon as she came, she was gone.
He and Elle went back to her dorm that evening, giggling and talking in whispers and hushed tones, bundled on the floor against her bed together. They drank hot green tea and talked about the day’s events, talked about how annoyed Callahan was, how fruitless Vivian and Warner’s visit was, how cut-throat and cunning Brooke Wyndham could be. When Emmett relayed the entire conversation that transpired as Elle had left the room, she laughed to herself, smile so wide it could blind someone.
“We should really send her a bouquet,” she said, nuzzled into Emmett’s side. “I should have known a Delta Nu would only have her sorority sister’s best interest at heart.”
“She definitely got us both,” he remarked. “I was so confused.”
She placed down her mug onto the rug. He loosened her arm around her so she could reach the floor, and when she looked back up at him, it was hard not to fall for her all over again.
“Are you glad?” Elle asked. “That you found out in that way?”
He didn’t understand how he couldn’t be. He could have found out from a sticky note duct taped to a brick and thrown through his window and he probably would have been the happiest man alive. He pulled her closer, kissing her hair, then moving down to kiss her cheek. She laughed all the while. “I didn’t mind at all.”
“I could say it again,” she offered. “But, like, really. Not just out of jealousy.”
“Would you, now?”
Elle cleared her throat. She caught Emmett’s face right in her hands, looking dead into his eyes. “Emmett Forrest, I adore you so much. I think you’re amazing. You’re so driven and pretty and patient, I would make you tea and pick out your suits and take you out for dinner any day of the week if you let me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop.”
“You still don’t believe me?”
“No, no, no, I do,” he grinned. “I just—I’m happy. I like you too, Elle. So much.”
“So much?”
“So much.”
—
Brooke, with Elle’s defense, walked away from her trial a free woman. She kissed them both on the cheek as the courtroom erupted in cheers, running to pull them in an embrace that they couldn’t escape from even if they wanted to.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Brooke said, so happy and girlish that she reminded him a little of Elle again. There were tears in her eyes. “Thank you both so much.”
Emmett hugged her back tightly. And he thought to himself, head numb and buzzing with everything else going on around them—at quitting his work for Callahan, at Elle staying at Harvard after all, at her winning her first case after just a semester and a half of studying law—that it was honestly a payment in kind. And then he realized, Brooke kissing his cheek again, that she was far from as mean as he first thought.