“No.” I reach across the table, take his hand. “I don’t care.”
The cookies arrive a few minutes later—two Midnight Eclipse cookies. Cast-iron skillets with dark chocolate brownie cookies.Sea salt caramel is drizzled across the top, the bourbon vanilla ice cream slowly melting into creamy pools.
I take a bite. Close my eyes. Let the chocolate and caramel and butter work their magic.
“This is what happiness tastes like,” I say when I open my eyes.
Brody is staring at me instead of eating his cookie.
“What?” I ask.
“Just memorizing this. You. Here. Happy.”
My throat tightens. “I am happy.”
“Good.” He finally takes a bite of his own cookie. His eyes close. “Oh, this is dangerous. I’m going to gain twenty pounds if this becomesour place.”
I blush at that, but I like the idea of it. “Worth it?”
“Absolutely.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Brody sets down his fork.
“So. My contract extension came through.”
I look up. “Yeah? That’s great!”
“Three more years. Maybe longer if they like what they see.” He’s smiling, relief clear in his expression. “They were waiting to see how I’d finish out the season. Tonight’s game helped.”
“You were incredible tonight.”
“I had good motivation.” He reaches across the table, brushes glitter off my hand. “So, it looks like I’m staying in Minneapolis. For the foreseeable future.”
“Good,” I say. Okay, that isn’t at all what I mean, but it’s hard to vocalize the feeling of confetti exploding in your soul.
“What about you?” he asks. “How’s the event planning business?”
“It’s good. Really good.” I take another bite of cookie. “The wedding magazine spread brought in three new clients. One ofthem is a corporate event for a tech company—huge budget, lots of potential for referrals. And…I’m out of debt.”
“That’s amazing, Chloe.”
“It is. But—” I pause. Set down my fork. Look at him. “I have bigger news.” I can’t keep the smile off my face. “I got a publishing offer. For a five-book illustration series. Children’s books. Dragons and adventure and—it’s everything I’ve wanted.”
Brody’s face does something complicated. A smile that’s equal parts pleased and…something.
“What?” I ask.
“Just about time.” He’s still smiling. “I hope you’re taking it.”
“I am. I mean, I’m going to. Now that…” I stop. Laugh. “Well, let’s just say I happen to have come into some money recently.”
He laughs too. Winks.
And right then, I realize—it’s past us. We can laugh about it. Tell our…kids? Yes, maybe, someday.
“Also,” Brody says, his expression shifting to something more serious, “my dad went to treatment. He’s thirty days sober.”
“Brody.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m so glad. How is he?”
