Page 83 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Chloe

“ H e is one grumpy boy,” Rory says, descending the stairs. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Chloe. But thank God you do.”

“It’s not as bad as it seems.”

She hums. “Do you need anything before I go? I’m going to swing by Renn’s and get some baby Arlo snuggles.”

And, no doubt, she’ll congratulate Renn on securing the bid for the Royals because Jason relented. I knew he would.

“I think we’re good here. Jason goes for a checkup tomorrow and I’m hoping they give him a little more freedom with his arm. If not, he and I might fight.”

“Who? You and the doctor?”

I snort. “Me and your son. I keep catching him trying to use it and he won’t listen.”

“He didn’t get that from me.” She pulls me into a warm, maternal hug. “I’m going to see if Mimi’s home and tell her goodbye.”

“I think she’s at Samuel’s.”

Rory points a perfectly manicured finger toward me. “That woman has it figured out. I wish I had half her game.”

I laugh, then wipe off the kitchen counter.

“See you soon, sweetheart.”

“Give Arlo kisses from Auntie Chloe.”

“I will.”

The door snaps shut behind her.

It’s a beautiful afternoon in Nashville with the sun high in a cloudless sky. Mimi and I had breakfast by the pool this morning while Jason did a little work from home. When she jetted off in the golf cart, I came back inside and tidied up.

In the few weeks since the accident, many things have changed, and nothing has changed at all. Our routine has been modified since Jason has needed to take some time off work. He hated it at first, but I think he’s starting to enjoy it secretly.

I know I have.

I still go into the office every day for at least a few hours, taking care of the tasks I can’t manage from home.

But, on the boss’s orders, I do everything possible from home—usually while somehow touching my husband.

Mara has been coming in every day to help Mimi more than anything since I can take care of our home pretty much on my own.

Mara and Mimi have developed a friendship that fills my heart with so much joy.

“Where’s my wife?” Jason calls from upstairs.

“Waiting on your lunch to finish cooking.”

“What are you making me?”

“Leftover chicken and rice.”

“What’s for dessert?”

I can hear the cheekiness in his voice, and it makes me smile.

The day I thought I’d lost my husband was one of the worst days of my life. Five hours. It took five hours for the search and rescue team to find him, extract him, and get him to the hospital.

Those hours were grueling, but I’m pretty sure the Brewer Trifecta of Power kept me sane. They made it possible to survive the anguish. How? Because they’re a unit. They’re strong. And they believe in each other.

I haven’t stopped telling Jason I love him since.

“I don’t know. Chocolate cake?” I ask, waiting on his refusal.

“You better not bring me chocolate cake.”

I laugh. “I thought you wanted something sweet?”

“Fuck the chicken and rice and get your sweet little ass up here.” He pauses. “Please.”

The oven timer beeps, so I take our lunch out and transfer it onto two plates.

Then I take the plastic pitcher out of the refrigerator and pour us each a glass of sweet tea.

I carry it on a large tray to the upstairs sitting room where Jason has been holed up for the majority of the past three weeks.

“Here you go, my love,” I say, handing him a plate and a drink. Then I bend to give him a quick kiss.

“How was the office?”

“Good. I was only there a couple of hours.” I sit on the chair across from him. “I met with Ian Gregory about the catering contract for next year. I told him if his numbers didn’t tighten, we’d be entertaining a new provider.” I take a sip of my tea. “He’s not happy, but neither are we.”

Jason beams. “Look at you. A CEO in training.”

I scoff. “I have no interest in being a CEO. As a matter of fact, once you’re back in the office full time, I might go back to waiting tables at Fika’s and let you deal with this yourself. I’m sick of these people.”

“Or, you could just stay home and do something you love.”

“But you’re the only thing I love. I don’t know what else I’d do until we have babies.”

“Well, we could get started on that.”

Heat blossoms in my belly at the thought.

We discussed having children the night he had his accident, but we haven’t talked about it since.

With his injuries—a broken collarbone, broken humerus, three cracked ribs, and a broken bone in his foot—our focus has been on his health.

But the better he feels and the more active he becomes, the more I think about it.

“Can I talk to you about something?” he asks, setting his plate down beside him.

“Sure.”

“When we got married, we did it for a bet. But now, there’s nothing funny about it. You’re the love of my life.”

I swoon at my handsome man’s sweet words.

“I was thinking in all my free time that we should get married again,” he says. “Let our family be there. Let Mimi see you get married. I want to see you in a dress and let my mother have the experience of a son getting married since she’s oh-for-two.”

My laughter is soft.

“I want to do it the right way,” he says. “Take you on a proper honeymoon. Surprise you with a trip somewhere. The whole thing.”

“Who knew you were this sweet?”

He shrugs. “I think it’s less sweet and more obsessed with you.”

“I like you being obsessed with me.”

“Did I really have a choice?”

He grins. “Come here.”

I set my plate beside his and climb on his lap, careful not to disturb the entire left side of his body.

For the longest time, I let my fears dictate my life.

They were warranted. They usually are. But instead of acknowledging them and working to overcome them, I only deprived myself of something good.

And you can’t find love if you hide away from it.

You still wind up hurt, which is what I was trying to avoid from the start.

And I delayed the best thing that ever happened to me.

“I love you, Chloe Brewer,” Jason says, kissing the bend of my neck.

“Not nearly as much as I love you, Jason Brewer.”

He sighs contently. “I’m so lucky I have you.”

I brace myself. “You’re lucky you landed me better than you land planes.”

My laughter fills the room as he tickles me, the sound hushed by his mouth over mine. It’s how everything ends with us now. We remind each other that no matter what happens, what jokes are made, what squabbles we have—we love each other.

Not for six months.

Forever.