Page 58 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Chloe

“ W hat ?” Tate and Jason say in unison.

They watch me with a mixture of amusement and confusion. When I fail to laugh or crack a joke—and probably from the determined yet frenzied look in my eyes—their reactions shift.

Tate’s amusement grows. Jason’s confusion deepens.

My awareness of the situation heightens, and my hands begin to shake.

“I’m sorry,” Tate says, his words kissed with a laugh. “I thought you just said you were marrying Jason.”

It’s now or never.

I lift my chin. “Because I am.”

Tate nods, disbelief written all over his face.

“What are you talking about, Chloe?” Jason asks carefully.

“You’re marrying me.”

He’s as surprised as I am to hear those words come from my lips in a sentence about us . But I’ve said them—they’re out in the world. And I can’t deny that, aside from the tightness in my chest from my nerves, this doesn’t feel like a bad idea. It’s a bit of a relief, really.

And that might be the scariest part of all.

Jason narrows his eyes, searching mine for an answer to an unasked question.

“What’s going on here?” Tate asks, picking up on the tension between his brother and me.

“I’d like to know that myself,” Jason says.

I swallow. “I don’t know how much clearer I need to be, but Jason and I are getting married.” I turn to Tate. “Six months, right? From the date of the wedding, I’m assuming.”

For the first time since I’ve known him, Tate is speechless.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I turn back to Jason.

“Marry me. I’ll be the best wife ever—even though I’m unsure how to be a wife because I’ve never wanted to be one.

But I’ll take a course or read a book or watch a bunch of romantic comedies that I usually stay away from like the plague because those happy endings are bullshit.

But I can pretend,” I add quickly. “I will. I’ll do anything. I?—”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” Tate holds his hands up and takes a few steps my way. “Are you fucking serious?”

I gulp, sweat dampening the back of my neck. “Yes.”

He looks at Jason. “You’re marrying her?”

“I … don’t know what’s happening here,” Jason says, eyeing me. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

I groan loudly enough to snap them both out of shock.

“Tate, if Jason gets married and stays married for six months, you’ll pay him one hundred thousand dollars, which is completely ridiculous, but who am I to judge?

Right? Rich people play rich people games, I guess. But that’s the way this bet works?”

“Yeah,” Tate says, nodding slowly. “That’s how it works.”

“Okay. Then we’re getting married,” I say. “We stay married for half a year from the date we say I do , and then you pay me fifty thousand dollars and donate the other half to whatever charity Jason chooses. Deal?”

Tate’s shoulders settle back, and he faces me like he does men in business meetings. If I wasn’t on the verge of losing everything I have and gaining a mental breakdown, I might find it funny.

“This has to be a real marriage,” he says, his voice higher.

“Define that.” I look him in the eye. “What constitutes a real marriage?”

“You can’t just put a ring on your finger and go through the motions. You must actually marry my brother.”

“Who is sitting right here,” Jason says from across the room.

We both ignore him.

“This wager was to prove that Jason can’t …” He throws his head back and laughs. “Hell, I don’t even remember what it was for now, but I want to see this play out.”

“Fine,” I say. “It’ll be a real marriage.”

“You have to live with him,” Tate says, glancing at Jason quickly.

“Fine,” I say again. Not sure how I’ll convince Jason of that, but one battle at a time …

“You have to do things together. Spend time together. Wind your lives together and make a real go at this.”

“What else?” I ask.

Tate’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Then I got nothing. Game on.”

I hold out my hand, and Tate shakes it. His palm is softer and smaller than Jason’s, but I don’t comment. Not when I’m this close to miraculously solving my problems.

“Okay. Great,” Tate says, walking backward toward the door. “I’ll be awaiting my invitation.”

The door swings shut with a crisp smack.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason asks, making me jump.

“I forgot you were here,” I say, turning to him.

He laughs as if he’s in shock. “You forgot I was here as you just made a deal with my brother to marry me? What am I? A piece of meat?”

“You could be, but that’s not the point.” I move to his desk and stand across from him. My gaze levels with his. “You’re marrying me. I already shook on it.”

“I saw that. May I ask why?”

I hold my breath, deciding how much to tell him. But as I war with where to start and what to divulge, I realize I’m too tired to hold back. And I don’t have a lot of time to work with, either.

“The letter I got today during your impromptu visit was a notice that the Pliny Building is condemned. I have forty-eight hours to vacate the property.”

Jason’s brows shoot to the ceiling.

“If I can even find a cheap apartment in two days, I might be able to afford the security deposit and first month’s rent, but my funds are already low thanks to car problems, bills, and loan repayments.

” I take a shaky breath. “When my mom died, I got myself in a hole, and I’m still climbing out of it. Interest is a real thing.”

His features sober. The vein near his temple pulses, and the sight of his jaw clenching makes my heart pound.

“Why haven’t you asked me for help?” he asks.

My throat constricts as his green eyes shine. “Because this isn’t your problem.”

“What you really mean is that you aren’t my problem, isn’t it?”

The lump grows, nearly sealing off my ability to breathe. I become lightheaded as I watch him fight with his emotions. I hope I didn’t just make a massive mistake.

“It hurts me that you’ve been struggling all this time and have never said a word,” he says.

“I don’t want you to think I’m incompetent, lazy, or needy.”

“But you’d rather me think you’re a fool for not coming to me? I have resources, and I care about you, dammit.”

Tears fill my eyes, and no amount of praying will keep them from falling.

“The last thing I want to do is sully our friendship over money,” I say.

“I don’t want to owe you, Jason, because I don’t know if I can ever repay you.

And everyone that’s ever tried to help me in the past has used that as an invitation to judge me, direct me—to give me ultimatums. And I’d rather live on the street and have a tarp to cover up Mimi with at night than to send her to a nursing home where no one gives a fuck about her.

Where they don’t know the life she’s lived and don’t give a shit about how much respect she deserves.

I won’t worry that she’s lying there lonely or cold and no one is there to give her a blanket just so I can live in a better place … ”

My voice cracks as the floodgates open. The saltiness of my tears splashes against my lips.

“Come here.” Jason marches around his desk and is at my side before the tears hit my shirt. “My God, Chloe.”

He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. My cheek lays against him as my heart bleeds inside me.

I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me like this. And that’s why I finally break .

His chin rests on my head as we sway gently from side to side. My tears stain his shirt, my sobs whispering quietly through the room. It’s the first time I’ve been able to cry freely for as long as I can remember.

I didn’t realize I needed this.

I sniffle as the wave of emotion begins to wane and the haze of feelings lifts. A chuckle slips past my swollen lips from embarrassment, and I pull away.

“My mascara is all over your shirt,” I say, wiping my face with my hands.

“I don’t give a damn about the shirt.” He grabs a couple of tissues from the bookshelf behind his desk and brings them to me. “Do you need anything? A drink?”

“No. I’m good.” I still have the coffee this generous, sweet man brought me on my desk. I blow out a breath and sniffle again. “Thank you for that hug.”

“Want to repay me?”

I nod, unsure where he’s going with this.

He half leans and half sits on the edge of his desk. A small smile dances along his lips. “Then fill me in on this wedding we’re having.”

My laughter comes unexpectedly, and the sound makes Jason’s smile grow wider. I swipe the tissue under my eyes and feel my cheeks flush.

“You know I’ll give you the money, right?” he asks. “You don’t have to marry me, for fuck’s sake.”

“You giving me money is not an option. So if you don’t want to marry me?—”

“I didn’t say that.”

His words are sharp and decisive, and there’s something so ridiculously attractive about it that I nearly lose track of what I’m saying.

“Then I’d rather earn the money somehow,” I say.

“And I can justify this ridiculous bet if I know Tate will donate it anyway. While it hurts my pride to consider myself a charity, I’m desperate enough to succumb to the definition.

So, for the next six months, I’ll try my best to make this worth it to you since you’re not taking half of the money.

I’ll cook. I’ll clean. I’ll do the laundry.

If you have a dog, I’ll walk it. Whatever you want. ”

He smirks. “So what you’re saying is that you would do anything for me?”

I try not to smile but fail miserably.

He sits quietly, the wheels behind his eyes turning. I’m too nervous, too emotionally spent, to say anything else. Besides, the proverbial ball is in his court.

Finally, after what feels like ages, he licks his lips. A slow smile ghosts his lips.

I hold my breath, uncertain where this is headed.

“I’ll marry you on one condition,” he says.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Whatever the condition is, I agree,” I say. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’d rather you agree to this because you want to rather than because it’s a term in an arrangement.”

Oh . “Fair.”