Page 27 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

I freeze.

No.

No, no.

“Wait.” I turn to Broderick. “ You’re the best man?”

He flashes a megawatt smile, his dimples on full display, smug and sparkling. “Surprise, sweetheart.”

Fuck.

I close my eyes as they roll to the back of my head. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

I press my fingers to my temples. If I concentrate hard enough, maybe I can will my body into another dimension.

Well. Shit.

Andrew’s voice booms from the hallway.

“Broderick Schwartz, my man !”

They meet in a back-slapping, chest-thumping embrace—two perfectly sculpted Ken dolls, reunited.

Schwartz.

I wonder, absentmindedly, if he’s from that Schwartz family—the diamond dealers. The backbone of New York jewelry. Loaded to the gills. Old money. Montgomery-level old.

Doesn’t matter.

What matters is he’s sticking around.

Which means I have to keep my cool.

And rein in my thoughts.

Hard.

If I had known my morning would come to this, I would have prepared accordingly. And by prepared , I mean feigned illness, overslept, or mysteriously disappeared to Paris.

Instead, now I’m here, seated at a nauseatingly chic café, sipping an aggressively overpriced mimosa while Philippa glows as she retells the story of how she and Andrew met.

“You know,” she says quietly, leaning in, “after that…situation in the meeting room, Andrew wouldn’t shut up about me. He was obsessed. Wanted to know everything.”

“So, you stalked her?” I deadpan to Andrew, who looks positively wistful, like he’s reliving a Renaissance painting.

“Can you blame me? She’s stunning.” He shrugs, utterly unbothered.

“Smooth,” I mutter, shoving an entire strip of bacon into my mouth. No regrets. Bacon fixes everything.

“So what happened next?” I ask, mouth full.

“Well, Andrew wasn’t sure how to ask the company owner’s daughter out, or if he even should, so…

he roped Broderick into helping,” Philippa says with a shrug.

“They came up with this whole plan to get me to that Columbia alumni mixer. Broderick had his assistant contact my office about a potential property we might be interested in.”

“How romantic. Nothing gets you going like the threat of a property acquisition, huh, Pip? A love story for the ages.”

She grins, totally unashamed. “So, imagine my surprise when I get to the mixer, and Andrew’s there. We started talking, I asked him out and…well, the rest is history.”

“Broderick was the bait. Best wingman ever. You totally fell for it,” Andrew exclaims.

“I thought you all went to school together?” I say, shrugging, spearing a piece of egg.

Philippa shakes her head. “Oh, no, Andrew and Broderick did—they’re both well past their prime.” She winks.

Andrew clutches his chest. “Wow. Harsh.”

Broderick shakes his head, laughing. “Damn, Phil. I’m thirty-two. I’m not set for pasture just yet.”

“We all graduated from Columbia,” Philippa adds. “But they finished long before I even started freshman year.”

I nod, like I care, working through another bite, pretending to be somewhat interested.

Broderick leans back in his chair, eyes still on me over the rim of his coffee cup.

“What gets you going, Elena? If not property deals…bacon and eggs?” His tone’s casual, but there’s something loaded beneath it, like he’s already imagining the answer.

The tingle that slides down my spine is completely unfair.

“If I told you,” I snap, raising an eyebrow, “I’d have to kill you.”

I swallow the last bite of bacon.

Andrew coughs through his mimosa. “Damn, bro, you’ve lost your edge.”

They chuckle at one another, and I know it’s at my expense.

Dickheads.

I zone out as Philippa launches into floral arrangements and monogrammed stationery. Yawn.

Waffles vanish off my plate as I pray— pray —this headache, both the one in my skull and the one sitting across from me, disappears.

Broderick Schwartz—international man of mystery, owner of those dimples, that smile, those forearms, best man—leans back like he owns the air around him, all long legs and lazy confidence, swirling his coffee like he invented caffeine.

And those eyes.

He catches me staring—shit.

A smug grin spreads across his face. “Tell me something, maid of honor?—”

I roll my eyes. “It’s Elena.”

He smirks. “Elena.” My name glides off his tongue like he’s savoring it.

Rude.

He chuckles. “You don’t like me?”

“What gave it away?” I reply, all mock sweetness.

“The glaring. The sighing. The way you stabbed your waffle with the precision of a trained assassin.” He chuckles, cocking his head.

I glance down.

Oh. Yeah, okay. Maybe I’m being slightly dramatic.

Andrew and Philippa are watching us like we’re some kind of brunch-floor comedy act.

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes.

Alex

Survived brunch yet? Or do I need to send a rescue team?

I beam at my phone and reply.

Elena

Wedding talk is a bore, but the bacon makes up for it. Will signal if extraction is needed.

Broderick playfully peeks at my screen. I tilt it away, shooting him a glare, but his grin only deepens. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“Oh…she does smile,” he teases, his confidence irritating.

I glare at him in response. The less I give, the more he will get the message.

His brow arches, his perfectly dazzling green eyes sparkle—they actually fucking sparkle. “Boyfriend?” he asks.

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?” Philippa chirps, her eyes wide, looking between the two of us as she takes a sip of her mimosa.

“It’s no one,” I lie, too quickly. Is it? Alex is…it’s all too new to say. But this isn’t the time to unpack that.

Philippa leans in, her eyes narrowing. “Hold on…are you seeing someone?”

Broderick chuckles under his breath, adding, “Her boyfriend is very eager this morning.”

Oh, fuck’s sake, can you not?

I shoot him another look.

Philippa gasps, eyes wide. “Wait. Is it Alex? The guy who landed you in the hospital?”

“Hospital? A little rough for foreplay, isn’t it?” Andrew interjects.

My face flames. Philippa snickers.

Broderick lets out a bark of laughter, loud enough to draw a glance from the next table. If the ground could swallow me whole, I’d send it a thank-you card.

“Thanks, Andrew,” I say through gritted teeth, my eyes shooting him daggers.

He and Broderick exchange a glance—quick, too pleased with themselves, like a silent high-five.

Philippa raises a brow. “So, you are seeing him?”

“No comment.” I scowl at Broderick, pissed that he’s getting under my skin so badly. Then he has the audacity to wink at me with those devilish green eyes.

She gives me a look as if to say we’ll talk about this later .

Andrew, grinning, chimes in, “Pay no mind to Broderick, he only teases pretty girls.”

“Only the prettiest,” Broderick adds smoothly, flashing a panty-dropping smile, dimples on full display, sending shivers right to my core. I’m fucked .

“So, Best Man, how long have you known Andrew?” I push, trying to redirect the conversation away from my very new love life situation.

“Oh, Andrew and I go way back,” Broderick says with his whole chest.

“He’s practically family,” adds Philippa, with sweet indignation.

While they reminisce about the golden days of college, I am free to finish my food in peace without any further interruption from ‘Mr. Tall, Dark, and Impossibly Annoying.’

“So, there’s a reason we asked you two out to brunch today.” Andrew looks over at Philippa, the shared look between them full of quiet conspiracy.

“We’ve planned most of the major events, the rehearsal dinner, bridal shower, but we’d love it if you could work together to do a combined bachelor and bachelorette party,” Philippa gushes, her eyes full of excitement.

I choke on my mimosa.

Broderick grins like it’s Christmas morning.

“Elena, I know you’re busy with your upcoming album release, but Broderick is here and you can work together on it,” she adds.

“Yeah, Elena, lean on me,” Broderick taunts, holding his hand to his chest, broad and muscular under that black shirt.

My jaw tightens.

If it were for anyone else, I would tell them to fuck off, but it’s for Philippa, and if I can repay her kindness in any way, it would be to swallow my pride and plan the best fucking bachelorette party for her.

“Pip, of course,” I say, through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

“Fantastic,” he adds smoothly. “Teamwork makes the dream work.”

I scowl at Broderick, who looks like he’s won the lottery. He’s enjoying this way too much, and that smug grin makes me want to throw my mimosa at him.

I can’t wait to get out of here. The thought of shopping for Philippa’s honeymoon wardrobe doesn’t seem so bad after all.

The boutique is filled with soft music and the scent of overpriced perfume, the kind of place where even looking at a price tag might cause spontaneous financial ruin.

Philippa is in her element, meticulously sifting through racks of silk, lace, and impossibly tiny swimwear, while I trail behind her, holding an iced coffee like it’s my lifeline.

Meanwhile, I’m fighting the urge to take a nap on the floor, post-food coma.

“Elena, honestly, if you ever do go on a proper romantic vacation, at least have something like this packed,” Philippa muses, holding up a delicate white lace nightgown.

“Sex advice from my sister. Pack sexy outfits for man to tear off, check.”

She laughs. “It’s half the fun of it, you know.”

I scoff. “Pip, I barely have time to sleep, let alone jet-set on some romantic vacation. That’s if I even had someone to take me in the first place.”

Though if I’m being honest, the idea doesn’t sound too bad. A getaway, somewhere exotic, maybe, just me and Alex—no stress, no expectations. Just us . That’s something I could see myself doing.

She rolls her eyes, placing two onto her growing pile. “One for you and one for me,” she winks. “Speaking of non-existent love lives—Alex?”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “What about him?”

Philippa gives me the look. The one that says she sees right through my nonsense. “Don’t play dumb. Are you seeing him?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, come on, we’re supposed to be bonding,” she sings.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “It’s…new. Like really new. I don’t even know what it is yet.”

“So you do like him.” Her voice turns soft.

“Yeah, I think so,” I admit, hesitating a little.

She pauses for a moment, then tilts her head, studying me. “Okay, but what about Broderick?”

I shrug. “What about him?”

“Oh, come on, Elena. You two were practically sparring with each other all through brunch. I swear, if sexual tension could be bottled up, we’d have enough to start our own perfume line.” She folds her arms. “Be honest. What do you think of him?”

I take a long sip of my iced coffee, stalling. “I think…he’s annoying. And smug. And entirely too full of himself.”

Philippa raises an eyebrow. “And attractive?”

I groan. “Fine. Objectively, yes, he’s attractive. But so is a fire, and you don’t stick your hand in the flames just because it’s pretty.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m just saying you seemed…aware of him.”

“I was aware of how irritating he is,” I correct. “Trust me, there’s nothing to talk about there.”I lie, because admitting the truth—even to myself—isn’t something I’m ready to entertain.

“I’ve never even had a relationship, so I genuinely have no idea what this all is. I’m just going with the flow,” I add, hoping for some sisterly wisdom.

“Never?” she asks.

I nod, staring at my hands. Relationships had always felt like something other people figured out—like an inside joke I wasn’t in on.

“Look, I get it. Relationships can be terrifying. You’re putting yourself out there, and that’s not easy. But if you spend all your time overthinking, you’ll miss out on something amazing.”

I frown, running my hand through the nearby rack. “What if I don’t even know what I want?”

She squeezes my arm. “Then let yourself figure it out. No rush. No pressure.”

I glance at Philippa, full of confidence and so sure of herself. Poised, like she was born under better lighting.

“You know,” I say, nudging her, “for all the times you annoy me, I do appreciate you.”

She gasps loudly, clutching her chest.

“Elena Montgomery, was that a moment of genuine sisterly affection?”

I scoff, immediately regretting it.

She closes her eyes, tilts her face to the ceiling.

“Hold on. Let me savor it.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.

Just a little.