Page 156 of Our Little Secret

“I’m good.” Brooke put her hand over the top of her glass. She couldn’t take a chance on getting buzzy and losing control of her lips. She had too much to do.

No, now that the shock was wearing off, she had to be clever, to expose Eli as a fraud without exposing herself. Somehow she had to trip him up, to get rid of him, before Leah made the mistake of marrying him.

Somehow they got through dinner. As surreal as it was.

It had been touch and go, but Eli had convinced Leah to come downstairs and Brooke had managed to convince Marilee that she would try her best to get along with her sister, even though it was probably impossible, especially considering the circumstances and how freaked out Brooke was. But she pulled it together. “It’s Christmas,” she said, and Marilee had finally deigned to join the tense group seated around the old oak table.

Leah wanted to pout. Brooke recognized the signs. Her slightly protruding lower lip, the dark looks sent Brooke’s way, and an overly dramatic slump of her shoulders. But Leah really couldn’t give into her usual poor-me routine with Eli at her side. She had to portray herself as the ebullient bride-to-be, a tough act when she was also the preyed-upon victim.

If only she knew that in this case, tonight, her two roles had truly melded into one.

Marilee, though quieter than usual, held up her part of the conversation as they consumed spicy chowder, slices of hot bread, and a salad made with kale, pumpkin seeds, and dried cranberries, which Marilee steadfastly picked out and slid to the edge of her plate.

“So, Leah says coming up here to the island was your idea?” Brooke said to Eli.

He was seated across the round table, the small arrangement of pine cones, holly, and greens separating them. The drink had taken the edge off, and she could actually speak to him face-to-face. But damn, he looked like Gideon. HewasGideon. She just knew it! And it scared the hell out of her.

“Yeah, I thought it was a good idea.”

How could she call him out? Expose him?

Brooke was still trying to slip him up, to make him admit that he was a fraud and, possibly, Leah was an innocent victim. A mark. She hated to give Leah the satisfaction of being used because of her history and her outright envy, if not jealousy, of her older sister. Still, would Leah try to ruin Brooke’s life as she claimed her older sister had destroyed hers? Would she really be so brazen as to bring Gideon here to claim he was someone else, someone she intended to marry?

None of it made sense, but her wits weren’t as sharp as usual. Neal’s martini was strong: a double shot of gin with just a whisper of vermouth along with two olives. And she’d downed it quickly. Then there was the wine with dinner. She’d had a glass, maybe two, but definitely not three . . . or . . .

Leah filled in the blanks. “Eli found out that you and I weren’t on the best of terms and he didn’t like it.” Seated next to him, she reached out and touched his hand.

“Didn’t like it?” Brooke repeated.

“Uh-huh.” Leah nodded, her eyebrows arched, almost daring Brooke to argue. “He knew we weren’t speaking, and then when Marilee said she was coming up here for Christmas, he suggested we all get together. That we sisters should, you know, mend fences. How did you put it?” she said, glancing Eli’s way, “embrace family?”

For the love of God. “Is that right?” Brooke said and caught a warning glare from Neal.

“It is,” Leah insisted and stood. “It’s what he does. He’s kind of a counselor.”

“A psychiatrist?” Neal asked.

Eli shook his head. “Not a doctor.” Anticipating Neal’s next question, he added, “Not a psychologist either. It’s not really what I do.”

“What then? What is it youreallydo?” Brooke asked, expecting him to squirm under the scrutiny.

He didn’t. “I give free advice to my clients. I’m a personal trainer.”

“What kind of advice? Like, do you solve marital problems?” she persisted. “Family issues?”

His lips pulled into a tight smile. “More like using common sense. Clients come to me and start talking, that’s all.” He sent a meaningful glance at Leah. “I’mnota trained counselor.”

“He’s a life coach,” Leah said.

“Without a degree,” Brooke pointed out, and while Leah seemed to fume, Eli—or whoever he was—let a slow smile crawl across his lips. He was amused by all the underlying tension.

“What exactly does a life coach do?” she asked, pushing it.

“Helps people!” Leah’s eyes narrowed.

“So you didn’t go to college or some special school to become a personal trainer? Don’t you need to have some certification if you’re planning to ‘coach’ people on how to live their lives?”

” He doesn’t need a degree for that!” Leah was getting angry.