Page 57 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Chloe

“ B reathe, Chloe,” I whisper to the empty elevator.

I suck in a slow breath and blow it out in an easy, even gush before stepping out of the elevator. Brandi starts to speak but stops when she sees me. Her face says it all.

“Yes, bad morning,” I say, moving through the foyer. “I owe you for helping me with the reports this morning. Thank you again.”

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s my job.” She narrows her eyes as I scurry by. “Do you need anything, Chloe?”

“I don’t know. Does this office have a policy on drinking?”

Her laughter makes me smile for the first time today.

“If not, I’ll take two shots of whiskey,” I say over my shoulder.

“Whiskey?”

I stop at my door, looking back at her as I reach for the knob. “I told you. Bad morning.”

I flash her a half smile, half cringe and enter my office. My shoulders slump before I get the door shut behind me, and a small grin slips across my face.

A coffee has been set beside my computer next to a pastry.

“Damn you, Jason,” I say softly, grinning at the result of his thoughtfulness.

I dump my bag into a chair and close my eyes, trying to center myself. My stomach is knotted, and my nerves frayed—not just from Mimi’s fall or from finding Jason at my apartment. But also from the notice given to me in the hallway.

Please be advised that the property at 8901 Lang Avenue has been deemed condemned by authorities. Residents have forty-eight hours from the date of this notice to vacate the premises.

My heart sinks. “What am I going to do?”

Tears fill my eyes, welling so fast that I tip my head back to keep them from trickling down my cheeks.

The notice implied I have rights, but none of those rights seemed to cover new housing.

I’m not delusional. Our landlord won’t give a shit about what happens to us.

And I’ve dealt enough with the court system when my mother died to know I’d rather do just about anything else than deal with red tape.

Besides, none of that will help me find a place to live in two days.

“How is this my life?” I say, keeping my eyes wide so the fluid absorbs back into my body.

I sniffle and look around my office. I’m so discombobulated. I’m unsure whether to jump into work and forget about this for a while—let it calm down before I scramble and make a bad decision. Or, do I begin looking for a cheap place to live and work extra hard next week to make up the time?

My attention settles on the flowers Thomas sent. For some reason, I laugh. “That date won’t be happening. Leave it to the government to cockblock me.”

Tate’s laughter trickles from Jason’s office.

I tap beneath my eyes to ensure they’re dry, then knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jason says almost immediately.

My heart lodges in my throat as I poke my head around the corner. Jason’s eyes snap to mine so hard that it makes me breathless.

“I was just letting you know I’m here,” I say.

Jason searches me—for what? I don’t know. But the assessment leaves me feeling more comforted than anything.

“I was worried. You didn’t return my calls or show up, and that’s not like you.”

I was so bewildered, and embarrassed , that I can’t remember if I thanked him for caring. That makes me feel worse.

“Hey, Chloe,” Tate says, flashing me his million-dollar smile.

“Hi, Tate.” I switch my attention back to my boss. “Do you need anything? If not, I have a million emails to return.”

Jason’s brows knit together, and he rocks back in his chair. “Actually, I do need you for a couple of things. Would you mind hanging out here for a minute?”

“Sure.”

My breaths grow shaky as I make my way to stand beside Tate.

“Can I get your opinion on something?” Tate asks me.

“What’s up?”

“So there’s a woman who I see off and on. It’s nothing serious,” he says. “She wants me to attend her sister’s wedding next month. I want no part of that, and she’s pissed.”

“Why don’t you want any part of that?”

“It’s like holding a baby. A woman sees you holding a baby, and—boom! All they can think about is having your kid.”

“You say that like you’ve experienced that a time or two,” I say, laughing.

He shivers. “Or three. I don’t like babies. None of them. I’m concerned about Renn’s kid because I feel obligated to be the cool uncle because God knows I’m the only one available for that role.”

Jason snorts, but I don’t look at him.

“But what do I do about my actual role?” Tate asks, eyes wide. “What must a cool uncle do to fill that spot in the kid’s life? Do I have to hold it? Feed it? Or can I just buy it tons of presents and call it good?”

“I think you’re overthinking it,” I say.

“I’m not. I assure you, I mean every word of this.”

I laugh again at the look of absolute seriousness on his face. “Babies are magical. You’ll love Renn’s baby. Trust me.”

“Yeah. They magically make others want them. Don’t you experience that? If you hold a baby, don’t you want one?”

“It’s been a very long time since I held a baby, so I’m not sure,” I say, grateful for this distraction. “But, yeah, holding a baby would probably naturally make me think about having one of my own. But puppies do that, too. If you see a puppy, you suddenly want one. Right?”

“Maybe other people.” He looks at me like I don’t make sense and turns to his brother. “What about you? Do you think babies are magical?”

Jason watches me carefully. “Weren’t you talking about a wedding?”

“Oh. Right.” Tate bumps my arm, drawing my attention back to him. “So how do I get out of this wedding and still get to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Have plans?” I suggest. “Make something up. Say you have to go out of town on business. How can she argue that?”

He nods. “That’s good. That’s very, very good.”

“That was pretty obvious, Tate.”

“I just get all nervous about these things. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, you know? But I also don’t want to hurt my own, and if she thinks I think we’re more than friendly acquaintances, if you know what I mean, then that hurts me.”

I try my hardest not to laugh at him, but I fail. Miserably.

The joyful sound is in stark contrast to the depression settling over my soul. I want to grab on to it and hold it close—to allow it to keep me from descending into a pit of despair.

Mostly because I don’t have time to sit in my sads. I have to find a place to live.

Why does life have to be so expensive?

My heart hurts for Greta, and for Mrs. Donaldson on the third floor. What will they do? Where will they go?

How is this even legal? How can they make us vacate our homes in two freaking days?

“Do you know who else gets nervous about weddings?” Tate smirks.

“Who?” I ask.

“Jason.”

My gaze sweeps across the room to my boss. “Why do you get nervous about weddings?”

Jason rolls his eyes as he sits up, his patience with his youngest brother growing thin.

This is usually the time that I try to segue Tate into leaving to save Jason’s sanity. But because I know what our conversation will entail when Tate does walk out, I’d rather him stick around as long as possible today.

So I say nothing to prompt him to go. Instead, I dig my heels in to keep him here.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with weddings,” I say to Jason.

He glares at his brother.

“It’s a new thing with him,” Tate says, teasing Jason.

“ Okay …” I look at Tate and then Jason. “I feel like I missed a conversation.”

Tate sits on the edge of Jason’s desk—just out of reach of Jason’s right hand.

“I’m about to be one hundred thousand dollars richer,” Tate says, needling Jason.

“Why?” I ask.

“Get out of here, Tate,” Jason says.

Tate grins like a cat that ate the canary.

“What’s going on?” I ask again, curiosity getting the best of me.

“I bet my brother that he won’t get married within three years and stay married for six consecutive months.”

What ? I start to dismiss Tate’s words as a joke, but Jason’s reaction makes me think it’s not.

Tate looks at me over his shoulder. “It’s a sure bet if you want in on it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking the fog out of my head. “Say that again. You bet one hundred thousand dollars that Jason won’t get married within the next three years?”

“Yup.” Tate grins. “Easy bet, huh?”

“Tate, leave ,” Jason says firmly.

“You’re just mad that you’re going to lose,” Tate says.

I wave a hand in the air. “Is this real? You really bet on Jason’s marital status?”

Tate stands looking pleased with himself. “We bet on a lot of ridiculous things and just give it to charity. We’d give it to charity anyway, so why not have some fun with it?”

Fair.

“Do I win the most?” Tate asks. “Yes. Are my brothers salty about it? Also, yes. But this might be the easiest money I’ve ever won.”

“I bet my brother that he won’t get married within three years and stay married for six consecutive months.”

My brain starts to spin. Each second that passes by increases the speed ten-fold. The pace makes me dizzy, and I grab the back of a chair to steady myself.

Tate’s words echo through my brain like a recording that won’t stop playing. He bet his brother and is donating the money …

An idea—a dangerous, wild idea, pops up in my mind. It’s risky and silly, but it might just work.

I flip my gaze to Jason and find him watching me.

He did ask if he could help …

“So you’re going to pay the money one way or the other, right?” I ask, gripping the chair. “One of you is paying the other.”

“Right,” Tate says.

I don’t look away from Jason. “And what defines a charity?”

“I don’t know. A charity is a charity.”

My eyes flutter closed briefly as I try to talk myself out of this. I need to stop talking, go back to my office, and get ahold of myself. But as my eyes open again, I’m reminded of finding Mimi this morning on the bathroom floor in tears …

“What if you win, Tate, and decide you want Jason to donate his winnings to someone you meet on the street?” I ask carefully. “Would Jason have to give them the money?”

Tate shrugs. “If that person needed it, I don’t see why not. The idea is to help others.”

You could help me …

My breathing becomes ragged as I seriously consider the thoughts running through my head. I’m thinking under duress, and I know that. But it also seems like it might work.

I need money.

Jason wants to help.

I’m under no illusion that this will result in a fairy-tale ending— neither of us wants to be married —so what can it hurt? I’ll happily sign whatever pre-nuptial agreement Jason wants to guarantee that I won’t ask for more than half the winnings.

Jason gets to beat Tate. I get to keep Mimi from a nursing home and myself from living in my car.

I gulp as my body temperature rises.

And, if we’re married, would it be all that wrong to fuck my husband?

I look up at Jason and find his eyes heated.

Six months. It’s only six months.

Oh my God. Am I crazy?

My chest aches from the stress, but my heart races because there’s hope. And if I’m anything, I’m hopeful.

Screw it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Tate, I have bad news,” I say, grinning. “You’re about to lose that bet.”

Jason is puzzled. Tate flinches.

“What are you talking about?” Tate asks.

I take a deep breath and turn to Jason. “We’re getting married.”