Page 73 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Chloe

“ W ould you like more wine, ma’am?”

I shake my head, offering the server a smile. “No, thank you. I’ve had enough.”

“Very well,” he says, turning to Jason. “What about you, sir?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

The server nods and disappears into the rest of the dining area.

Ciro’s is unlike any place I’ve ever eaten.

It’s sophisticated and moody, with shadowy corners and low lighting.

I fully expect that celebrities and dignitaries are tucked into the booths lining the walls and sitting at the tables surrounding ours.

It’s that kind of a place—opulent—that makes me wish I knew the difference in all the forks.

If Jason notices my inability to choose the right eating utensil for each course, he doesn’t mention it. His smile hasn’t left his face since we climbed off the bed a couple of hours ago.

“So what did you think of your meal?” he asks, sitting back in his chair and lacing his fingers against his stomach.

He’s regal and debonaire in his suit, easily the most handsome man in the room. Every female in the building, and some males, took notice as soon as we entered. I doubt it takes three people to service one table, but that’s been our experience this evening.

“This was incredible, actually,” I say, surveying the remnants of my dinner left on my plate. “I’ve never had Wagyu beef before, but I’m a convert. Total fan.”

This pleases him.

“How was yours?” I ask.

“I preferred my appetizer over my main course. Now I’m looking forward to dessert.”

The heat in his eyes makes it clear what’s for dessert. Me.

“I believe you had two appetizers before we got here,” I say, grinning. “Aren’t you full yet?”

He smirks. “I have a feeling I’ll never be full of today’s particular menu.”

My cheeks flush, and I reach for my wine.

“Have I told you that dress looks stunning on you?” he asks.

“Only five times.” I laugh. “But you can tell me again. I don’t mind.”

“You are the most beautiful woman in this room, and it has nothing to do with your dress. It’s lovely, of course. But you are the star of this show.”

I shake my head adoringly at him. “I hope you like this dress. You bought it.”

He grins, sipping his drink.

The dress is beautiful with short sleeves and a modest back slit.

The sheer mesh gathers to a V-back neckline, giving it a vintage vibe.

Vertical seams streamline the crepe sheath.

It’s classy but comfortable. But when Nadia insisted that I needed it , I disagreed—especially with the price tag.

Nadia, however, takes her orders from the man with the credit card, and that’s not me.

I guess she was right, after all.

“We go home tomorrow, right?” I ask, a sense of dread filling me.

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Yes.”

I nod.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course.” I slide a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s just that this weekend has been … phenomenal, really. And I worry that returning to Nashville is opening the door for real life, I guess.”

“This is real life.”

I scrunch my nose. “But is it, though?”

He leans forward, folding his hands before him, but doesn’t say a word. There’s something about the look on his face that compels me to explain.

“You have made this weekend extraordinary in every way,” I say softly. “And not just the gifts, or the sex, or the attention you’ve given me. But I’ve just felt … alive, I guess. And I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“Like what?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

I shrug. Like I’ve finally managed to adult without feeling like I’m on the verge of failing.

“I feel like I’m a whole person,” I guess.

“Like I can breathe without feeling strangled. I took two baths today and didn’t feel guilty about it.

” I laugh. “I don’t regret any decision I’ve ever made regarding Mimi.

But I do wonder late at night sometimes what my life would be like if she was healthier or if my mom was still here to help me care for her.

” I sigh, letting the thoughts go. “But it doesn’t do any good to wonder, does it? ”

“Can I ask why you didn’t get Mimi into an assisted living of some sort?” He holds a palm up. “I’m not saying you should have. I’m not saying that at all. It’s just an interesting choice for a twenty-five-year-old woman.”

“I don’t know. It’s what I do, I guess. It’s what my family does.

It’s how we’re built. You know, when my mom got sick, Mimi and I took care of her.

We washed her. Dispensed her medicines. I made her food.

” Tears fill my eyes. “The last coherent day she had, she asked me to make her hot mashed potatoes. They had to be hot . She kept saying that for some reason.”

The words catch in my throat. I look away from Jason as I battle back a wave of pain that I didn’t realize was sitting so close to the surface. It’s heartbreak and desolation all wrapped up in a big mess of misery.

It’s been seven years, but some days it feels like it was only yesterday.

My husband reaches over, places his hand on mine, and rubs his thumb against the back of my hand. The simple, sweet gesture causes a single tear to slide down my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I say, swiping it away.

“Don’t be sorry, Chloe.”

The tenderness in his voice catches me off guard.

My heart strums as I absorb the kindness in his gaze, the warmth of his hand, and the peace found in his proximity.

“Anyway,” I say, “we took care of her, and then she passed. And then Mimi and I took care of each other.” I sniffle, clearing my throat.

“My mom died with dignity—at home, with her daughter and mother beside her. I’m so grateful to have had the privilege of doing that because not everyone does.

I sang her favorite songs to her. I held her hand.

I bathed her body before the funeral home came to get her.

And, once she was gone, I realized how important that was … not just to her, but to me. To Mimi.”

“You’re an incredible human being.”

I shake my head, laughing softly through the new round of tears. “We have very little in life that means anything. Our connections to each other and our dignity are all there really is at the end of the day. And to be able to give that to someone is really the best gift in the world.”

I pat my eyes with the edge of my napkin and settle myself.

“You have me now,” Jason says earnestly. “You’re not in this by yourself anymore.”

“My problems aren’t?—”

“Why do you do this?” He leans back again, surveying me carefully. “Why are you constantly poised to throw up a barrier between us?”

I grin. “I just let you fuck me without a condom. So, your words don’t really hold water, but thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

I want to argue with him and pretend I don’t know what he means, but the argument would be futile. This is a look I’ve known for years. It’s a silent expression that says don’t push me too much further because I will take this to a place you don’t want to go … and I’ll win .

“I’ve told you this before,” I say, pausing as a couple walks by our table. “Every time I’ve sucked it up and allowed someone access to that part of my life, it’s bitten me in the ass. And not like the thought that just ran through your head.”

His brows shoot to the ceiling.

“I can read you like a book,” I say, laughing.

He chuckles, too. “Eventually, you’ll realize you’re wasting a lot of energy fighting me. I’m here, Chloe. I’m not going anywhere. And if you won’t tell me what you want or need, I’ll cover all my bases.”

My heart swells. “Like the insane amount of clothes in my closet?”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“The last time you promised me it was just the tip, you lied. My ass still hurts.”

His laughter is quick and loud as I remind him of round three last night.

“Then I guess you better not push it,” he says, smirking. “Trust me or don’t. I’ll win you over eventually.”

You’re well on your way.

The server comes back, and Jason requests a check. We sit quietly, sipping what’s left of our wine, waiting for him to return.

“I talked to Nickie today,” I say. “And I told her about us.”

“You did? How’d that go?”

“She has a laundry list of questions I’m going to contend with on Monday, but she’s really happy for me.”

“What did you tell her?”

“We’d been dating quietly because we didn’t want to make it weird in case it didn’t work out.”

He takes the check from the server and scribbles on the paper before handing it back. Once we’re alone, Jason stands and offers me his hand. I take my new purse from the seat next to me, place my palm in my husband’s, and rise to my feet.

“I want to fuck you right here in front of all these men watching you, so they know you’re mine,” he whispers in my ear.

“There are men in here?”

He grins, pressing a kiss against the curve of my neck—a spot I’m learning is one of his favorites—then he guides me out of the restaurant.

The evening air is still thick and hot, and my dress sticks to my skin. When the valet brings our car to the front, Jason opens my door, settling me in my seat, before hopping in the driver’s seat and jetting away.

Lights flicker from all directions as we roar down the Strip. It’s a menagerie of sounds, advertisements, and offers of everything from shows to prostitutes. It’s much, much different from Nashville. Brighter. Louder. More exciting.

But the most exciting thing in all of Las Vegas is the man sitting beside me, driving a car with the same finesse that he uses to fly planes.

I lie back against the seat and feel the engine rumbling around us. The sound lulls me into a peaceful haze, and I think about all the things Jason has said to me tonight.

I’m not alone anymore.

He’s not going anywhere.

He’ll cover all of his bases to ensure I have what I want and need.

A smile ghosts my lips as a warmth spreads through me like wildfire.

Maybe Mimi is right. Maybe Jason is crazy about me.

Is that really possible?

I look across my shoulder at him just as he looks over at me and gives me the sweetest, shyest, yet most confident smile I’ve ever seen.

My heart wobbles, and my head spins.

In my wildest dreams, Jason is the hero of the story. Gorgeous. Kind. Brilliant. And he looks at me in a way that makes me feel like the only person in the room.

Mimi might be right. He might be crazy about me.

And I might be crazy about him, too.

Jason winks and downshifts, the engine roaring as we speed down the road to our hotel.