Someone seriously needed to teach him how to do a cartwheel. “I have a better idea. What if your brother keeps his bed and you share mine? If you’re moving a few thousand miles to be near me, I’ll be damned if I’ll let you stop on the wrong floor of the apartment building.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve thought of little else. And I have a fire escape outside my window, too, you know.”
A thousand people rushed by, but he only saw her. Her eyes were watery and bright. He hoped that was a good thing. “I’d love to see your fire escape,” she said with a laugh. “And on a totally different subject, I’d like to work with your mother,” she said. “Not just flower beds, though. Gardens—maybe community plots where we’ll grow vegetables for neighbors to share.”
“My mother would love that,” he said. And that was an understatement. His mother loved Estelle. His whole family had. “What about you, though? Is that going to keep you happy? What about your mother’s garden?”
Estelle gave a slight, conspiratorial grin. “Don’t you ever tell my brother I said this, but he just made a lot of sense. There are people there to care for that garden. There are people here to care for me.”
“Damn straight.”
She tilted her head and hugged her arms across her chest. Her eyes danced. “I wasn’t going to get on the plane, but since you’re here, why don’t you go home with me? I’ll show you the garden, and if we’re still speaking after a few days, we’ll fly back here together. If you have time to stay a while, I mean.”
Relief flooded him. He hadn’t felt that damn happy since…well, the fire escape. Her words filled an unfathomable void. Hell yeah, he had time. “I have all the time in the world for you.”
“I do have to warn you about one thing,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“No fire escapes. Not anywhere.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll build one just for you. Anywhere.”
Epilogue
The Friday night crowd packed Foam’s For You, a neighborhood bar frequented by the Chase brothers, along with what had to be half the borough. Estelle sipped her Long Island Iced Tea through the stir straw and sat back in the booth, sandwiched between Crosby and her brother. Liam and Ethan sat across from them, as had Sawyer until he saw one of his ex-hookups across the room.
“She doesn’t stand a chance,” Liam said, shaking his head.
“It’s the Chase charm,” Ethan said. He raised his nearly empty frosted mug in a mock toast and quickly lost it to a passing waitress.
“Be right back with this, hon,” she called over her shoulder.
Ethan shrugged. “Can’t beat the service.”
Estelle sat back in the crook of Crosby’s arm and rested her hand on his thigh. He felt good. He felt incredible, and the jolt that shot through her whenever she thought of him or touched him or was touched by him may have become familiar in the weeks since they flew together to the left coast, but it was no less thrilling. If anything, it was more so.
When they’d returned to California, she’d had a long talk with her difficult client and had sold her, mostly, on a more reasonable plan. She’d have to see that job out personally, but the rest would be easily handed over to someone else. She had also talked to a realtor about selling her house. The realtor confirmed Estelle’s equity was more than enough for her to start over. Even better, she’d known just the person to take over the memorial garden on Estelle’s behalf. Crosby was still running numbers on the business expansion, and she still had to fly back to the west coast a handful of times to finish out a couple of seasonal jobs, but it was a small sacrifice for everything she gained. Even the city had begun to feel like home, though she’d never admit it in front of Crosby’s brothers. Or hers.
The last thing Grady needed to hear was any version of you were right.
Even if he had been.
Even if he damn well knew it.
She smiled up at Crosby, who turned his head so his lips grazed her ear. “I love you.”
Fire peppered her veins every time he said those words, and every time she said them back. “I love you more.”
“Oh, God,” Ethan said. “If you two have this argument one more time.”
Liam nudged him. “Hey, pool table is opening up.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said. He jumped from the booth and waited for Liam to follow. “Winner pays for the night,” Ethan said with a smirk.
“You’re damn…wait a minute.”
Whatever Ethan responded was lost to the noise. Crosby shook his head and laughed as Grady moved across the table from them. “You two are pretty disgusting,” he said.
“You sure you want to put up with us?” Crosby asked.
“Ha. I’m stuck with my sister anyway.” He took a swallow of his drink and grinned. “As for the job, you forget I mostly work alone. In my apartment. Which apparently I was allergic to upon my return.”
“Was it the tree?” she asked, feigning innocence.
Grady rolled his eyes. “Only if it grows fur.”
Estelle gave up the fight not to laugh. “Okay, there was a cat.”
“It bit me on the ass,” Crosby said. “I tried to get her to look, but she wouldn’t.”
Estelle elbowed him. “You so would not let me look.”
“I can only assume you looked,” Grady said warily. “At which point you raided my nightstand.”
Estelle gave Crosby a pointed look, then addressed Grady. “They were there because you make balloon animals, right?”
Crosby shook his head knowingly. “I told her they were absolutely not there to make balloon animals.”
“Well, you don’t think he was sleeping with anyone on those sheets do you?”
“Oh, God, Estelle. You’re my sister. Could you stop?”
“You need to ask Sawyer what his secret is. You need a woman.”
“As evidenced by the empty box of…balloon animals?” Grady asked.
“Hey,” she protested. “We replaced them.”
“Actually, I think we used them again. And I think it was more than half empty,” Crosby supplied. “Because—”
Grady lifted his drink as if to hide behind it. “No offense, man, but there are some things a guy just doesn’t want to know about his sister.”
Crosby grinned. “Like what she did with your Star Wars sheets?”
Grady set his drink down with a solid thunk. “You mean she didn’t throw them out?”
“Nu—oomph.” Estelle buried her elbow in Crosby’s side, cutting him off.
“I want my sheets,” Grady said.
“Are you kidding me? I can’t even believe they make those in queen size.”
“Estelle, for the love of God, my balloon animals don’t care what my sheets look like.”
Crosby snickered.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. You can have your sheets back, but I’m going to find you a woman. Maybe Sawyer can give you dating tips.”
Crosby raised his hand. “Let me just interject here and say Sawyer’s idea of dating involves…not dating. His so-called relationships are over when the sun rises.”
“A string of meaningless encounters,” Estelle supplied. “Do you think he’s lonely?”
“I’m not going to ponder his motivation. I just wish he’d stop trying so hard. It’s like he goes out of his way to find women who want nothing of a relationship, and he’s no better than they are.”
Estelle narrowed her eyes. “And your last relationship was when?”
Crosby shrugged. “Not relevant. I recognize self-destruction when I see it. He prides himself on his playboy reputation. He doesn’t seem to think there’s a negative connotation there.”
“Then we’ll just have to show him he’s wrong,” Estelle said. I think it’s the least we can do after he spilled the pickle incident to your parents.”
Grady drained his frosted mug. “Can I just say how grateful I am that Estelle has someone else
to nag?”
“You’re welcome,” Crosby said.
Grady snorted. “I might need that in writing.”
Crosby laughed. “Not a chance.”
Estelle’s phone dinged. She pulled up the message. “I got an offer on my house,” she said. “Full price.”
Crosby looked at her like she’d hung the moon, sending her into a pit of warm and fuzzy. “So we’re doing this?”
Her heart soared. Not an ending, but a beginning. “We’re doing this.”
He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “On the fire escape?”
She laughed. “Every chance we get.”
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Acknowledgments
Tracy, I should build a shrine to you. One made of coffee or vodka. Or maybe both. You rock so hard, and the day you were gifted to me was one of the best ever. I appreciate your patience and your time in ways you can’t possible know. When the day comes that you finally get to throw something at me, I promise not to duck.
Heather, you OMG spoke to me, and now you’re human. A human who skewers with a red and white barber-striped phallus, but that just makes you that much cooler. You’ve given me some of the most amazing compliments and bits of encouragement of my writing life, so I hope you don’t find it the least bit creepy that I tend to bask in them from time to time. (This is, of course, considerably more productive than throwing my computer against a wall.)
Michelle, I seriously need you in my life. All 100+ of our daily emails are as necessary as breathing. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, friendship, and shared insanity, but I’m sure whatever it is would make the evening news.
And, as always, throughout this process, my family hasn’t killed me nor I them. I knew they were awesome, but this proves it.
About the Author
Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. (As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids). When not buried under piles of laundry, she may be found adrift in the Atlantic (preferably on a boat) or seeking that ever-elusive perfect writing spot where not even the kids can find her.
She loves creating unforgettable stories while putting her characters through an unkind amount of torture—a hobby that has nothing to do with living with six children. (Really.) Though she adores sexy contemporary romance, Sarah writes in many genres including historical and ghostly supernatural romance and romantic suspense. Her ever-growing roster of releases may be found on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iBooks, Google Books, and Entangled Publishing.
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