Page 113 of Chasing Forever
“Thank you.” I have to swallow hard past the emotion clogging my throat. I’m not used to this feeling… acceptance. Feeling as though I’m enough just how I am.
Darla walks out with a glass of wine. “What’s going on out here?”
“Don’t try to act like you don’t know,” Brad says.
“Did you give him a hard time?” Darla sits in the chair next to Brad.
“Why would I? He married her behind our back anyway.”
“Please, I was drunk, and I never would?—”
“Relax. I’d like the Brooks who existed before he was married to my daughter. Can you bring him back? Stop tiptoeing around us and just be yourself?” Brad asks.
I lean back in the chair. “I can.”
“Good. Now tell me how upset Walker Matthews was after you guys beat him at softball.”
And just like that, the conversation moves on, and Brad is the same Brad I’ve talked to a million times before.
Lottie ends up coming out with Wren, and they blow bubbles along the porch, circling around and around until Lottie gets dizzy and sits in my lap.
Brad builds a fire in the fire pit, and we all sit around and bullshit about nothing and everything.
It’s so different from my family, and I realize it’s a family I’m blessed to be a part of.
I didn’t just win the jackpot with Lottie, but with her family too.
Chapter Forty-Four
Lottie
For his final date, Brooks drives us into Lincoln. I’m surprised we came all the way up here, but I’m not complaining. It’s time with Brooks, and that’s all that matters.
Although we’ve already decided we’re not getting an annulment, Brooks was adamant that we finish all four of our dates. The funniest part to me is how many things we’ve done that could be considered dates anyway.
He made me go home and get changed even though I’ve been staying at his house every night for the last week.
Brooks is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with his baseball hat on. I opted for a dress with my cowboy boots, thinking that we’d be going to a restaurant.
“Am I too dressed up?” I ask.
“You look perfect.” He turns the corner once we’re in Lincoln, obviously knowing exactly where he’s going.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“A farmers’ market.”
“Oh fun.” I straighten and look around to try to see what it will look like. “Good date idea.”
He pulls into a small area with a sign that says vendors.
“Oh, I don’t think we can park here,” I say, pointing at the sign.
Brooks parks his truck anyway, turns it off, and grabs my hands.
“What’s going on?” I look at him warily because now he seems a little nervous.
He dodges eye contact, looking out the window at people with carts and bags walking into the farmers’ market area. “First, I want to say, you don’t have to do this. You say no, and I’ll turn this truck around.”
