Page 77 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Chloe

“ M imi, this is the best damn peach pie I’ve ever had,” Ripley says, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “But if you tell my mother, I’ll deny I said it.”

My grandmother basks in Ripley’s attention on her right, and Tate’s on her left—both charming the hell out of her.

These Brewer men really are the Trifecta of Power.

I laugh, realizing that it was a different three when Nickie and I discussed this. The fact that it still applies is hilarious—and telling.

I refill my glass of iced tea, pretending that I don’t know the pitcher is made of crystal.

My plastic one, stained perfectly by years of sweet tea making, was lost in the move.

Jason's only pitcher costs a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t know why he has it or when he got it.

I let him know that we’ll be getting a new plastic one because I have anxiety attacks every time I’m forced to use his.

He just laughed.

“The lasagna was delicious,” Tate says, holding a forkful up in the air. “Sorry I got here late. My plane was delayed.”

“Then hire your own plane next time,” Jason says, entering our kitchen. He squeezes my butt before wrapping his arms around me from behind. “What would Sammy say if he could see you now, Mimi? Sitting between two men who clearly have the hots for you.”

Tate bumps Mimi’s arm playfully.

“Who cares? I’m too old to be monogamous. I’m living it up while I’m still kickin’.”

Ripley’s dimple sets on his cheek.

It’s been a week since our wedding, and every day has only gotten better.

Mimi’s practically a toddler, buzzing around on her golf cart that Jason had fashioned with a radio.

She cruises the neighborhood, listening to Sinatra.

You can hear her coming from the street over.

And Jason and I have gotten into an easy flow.

Our routine begins with a kiss good morning before he leaves a couple of hours before me, and it ends with us cuddled in bed and watching documentaries.

Will it always be this way? I don’t know.

But every day that passes, the more my hope grows that it will.

Ripley rises from the table, carrying his plate to the sink. “So are you going to get behind the Royals purchase or what?” he asks Jason.

I peer up at my husband.

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Jason says, sighing. “You all support it, I know. Trust me, I understand. We’re always supportive of one another. But I really think we need to let a little time pass before we make big splashes.”

“Lincoln Landry has the Arrows charging full speed ahead,” Ripley says.

My brows tug together. “Wait a second. Are Lincoln Landry and Ford related? It just occurred to me that they have the same last name.”

“They’re brothers,” Jason says. “Lincoln was a professional baseball player. One of the best centerfielders in the league.”

“Future Hall of Famer,” Ripley adds. “And he played his whole career for the Arrows. It was like coming home for him.”

That’s great, but I’m still stuck on Ford Landry, Jason’s friend, and the owner of Landry Security who handles the Brewer family’s security, being brothers with Lincoln. What a small, wild world.

“Speaking of coming and going, I’m heading to Vegas on Monday,” Ripley says.

“Peter Zobreski asked me to come out. He has a few new fighters with a lot of potential, but they aren’t taking care of themselves.

He wants me to assess them and put together diet and exercise plans that they’ll actually use. ”

“That sounds like fun.”

Jason pinches me at the hip, making me squirm.

“What?” I giggle, leaning into his hand.

“No fighters for you.”

I smack his hands away. “I need to pitch the laundry from the washer to the dryer. I’ll be right back.”

“What happened to Mara?” Ripley asks.

“Nothing happened to Mara,” I call out over my shoulder.

Jason’s voice is loud enough for me to hear as I walk away. “Chloe’s adamant about doing laundry herself.”

“That’s cool,” Ripley says.

I don’t hear the rest of their conversation, but I know what it will be—Jason’s frustration that I want to do laundry, dishes, and sweep off the patio.

Ripley will be amused but will ultimately take Jason’s side because whether Jason knows it or not, Ripley might be his second biggest fan … behind me.

Flipping the laundry takes two minutes, and I’m back in the kitchen. Mimi’s getting to her feet, clinging to Tate’s arm like she might topple over at any minute. I give her a look, and she grins, tossing me a wink.

“Where do you think you’re going, Meems?” I ask.

“Tate’s going to take me out in the golf cart. He volunteered.”

“What if Sammy sees you and gets upset?”

“Oh, a little jealousy never hurt anyone.”

All I can do is shake my head at her. Seeing her like this makes me wish we could’ve hung out when she was younger. I bet she was fun.

“Don’t be making out with her or anything,” Ripley calls after Tate. “Try to control yourself.”

“Ripley, you hush your little mouth!” Mimi shouts back just before the door closes behind them.

Tate holds his finger behind his back and flips Ripley off. The three of us laugh.

“Whose phone is that?” Ripley asks, his brows pulling together. “It’s rung three times all the way through.”

“Mine is on the counter by the sink,” I say.

“It’s mine. I left it in my office. Let me go turn it off,” Jason says.

I watch his back muscles move beneath his shirt as he walks away.

“How’s marriage life treating you?” Ripley asks, rinsing his plate before putting it in the dishwasher.

“Better than I expected.”

“Did you not expect to be happy you married my brother?” He laughs.

“I didn’t know what to expect, but I’m a very happy woman.”

“Glad to hear it.” He takes a seat on the counter. “He’s been different this past week. Less moody. More pliable. Not saying he’s been friendly or anything …”

I laugh.

“But he seems really happy.” Ripley’s blue eyes sparkle. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty cool.”

Jason returns, pulling a polo shirt over his head. “Blakely’s in labor.”

“Renn’s wife?” I ask.

“Yes. Renn just called me in a complete panic.” Jason grins. “Grey was working security for them and is driving them both to the hospital. I bet Grey’s ready to throttle Renn.”

Ripley laughs, hopping off the countertop. “Labor can take hours—especially for first-time mothers. I’m going to run home and grab a shower before heading to the hospital.”

“I’m heading there now before Blakely divorces our brother,” Jason says. “Are you coming or staying home?”

What do I want to do? I take his hand. “I want to go with you, of course.”

“Lock up behind you, will ya?” Jason asks Ripley.

Ripley yawns. “Sure will. I’ll ensure Tate and Mimi return, and we’ll get her situated before we leave.”

My heart swells at the kindness of these men. Not only have they embraced me, but they’ve also extended their warmth to my Mimi. They’ve changed our lives, and I don’t think they even know it.

“Let’s go,” Jason says, walking beside me to the garage. “We’re about to have another little Brewer.”

We exchange a look that doesn’t need words—which is good. I’m not capable of them right now, anyway.

“Oh, my gosh, Renn,” I whisper, pulling back the blue blankets to see the newborn’s little face. “He’s beautiful.”

Renn can’t take his eyes off his son. “I just can’t believe I’m a dad. I mean, look at him. He has hands for rugby and Blakely’s lips. It’s so wild.”

Jason clasps his brother on the shoulder, admiring his nephew, too.

“How’s your wife?” I ask.

The agony of the past twelve hours is written all over Renn’s face.

I stayed at the hospital with them for the first few hours—until it was clear the birth was going to take some time. Jason drove home long enough to drop me off, grab his computer, and then returned to stay with his brother.

Jason kept me updated through the night, and as things grew more complicated, the rest of the family began to arrive. Tate and Ripley were next, followed shortly by Gannon. Bianca and Rory flew in around two this morning and sat with Blakely’s brother, Brock, and his fiancée, Ella.

I arrived back just as the doctor urged Renn to sign off on a C-Section. Arlo Renn Brewer was born just before nine o’clock this morning.

“Blakely’s resting,” he says, nodding toward the other room of the maternity suite. “This little guy really took it out of her.” Tears well up in Renn’s eyes. “Thank you for staying by my side last night, Jason. I was scared shitless.”

“You know I have you,” Jason says, keeping his hand on Renn’s shoulder. “Just like you have this little guy.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Renn asks.

Jason smiles. “I’d love to.”

The baby’s transferred between the two men like a priceless heirloom. Renn whispers to his son, explaining who Jason is and promising him his uncle won’t drop him. I stand back and watch, trying not to laugh at the sweet moment between brothers.

“Hey, you,” Jason says softly, holding Arlo up so he can see him better. “I’m Uncle Jase. You can come to me to learn everything your dad can’t teach you, which is mostly everything besides rugby.”

Jason grins, watching Renn out of the corner of his eye. Renn just smiles.

“Don’t cry,” Jason says, chuckling. “Did Uncle Gannon already say mean things about me? They’re all lies.” He coos as he brings the baby up against his shoulder. “I got you, little guy.”

My heart leaps into my throat, lodging itself there with the force of a hurricane. A fire roars in my chest as I watch Jason and Arlo.

Renn whispers something to Jason, and he laughs. Their conversation is out of my earshot but it’s better that way. Because watching them at this moment—watching them share the sweetest memory—hits me so hard I can barely breathe.

The magic between them touches a part of my soul that’s never been uncovered.