Page 137 of The Proposal
CHAPTER30
Blakely
“What are you guys doing?” Ella asks.
“Renn is making a fire,” I say.
“She’s into caveman kinks—ouch!” Renn laughs, rubbing his rib where I jabbed him with my elbow.
I make a face at my husband. “Actually, Renn served me with divorce papers yesterday.”
Brock bristles beside Ella.
“I was making a point,” Renn says, lifting a brow at Brock. “And I’ve spent the past two days trying to get Blakely to let me give her the wedding of her dreams.”
“Are you going to do it?” Ella asks.
“No. I don’t need another wedding as long as the first one counts.”
Renn smiles. “It better count, or you’re guaranteeing yourself a redo.”
I try to play it off, but his insistence makes me feel special.
Renn, Brock, and Ella get into a conversation about weddings. Now that my brother and best friend are getting married, it’s a hot topic around here. Ella wants to wait until after the baby is born. Brock prefers to do it before the baby is born. It’s a whole mess … but a mess stemming from love.
To say I’m relieved that they’re going the distance is an understatement. I’ve never seen him … dote, but it’s adorable.And will probably drive Ella crazy very soon. I grin. But that’s their jam. It works.
The fire roars as it catches in the fireplace. Renn leans back, proud of his handiwork.
“There you go,” he says. “Look. I made fire.”
“Good job.” I roll my eyes, handing him the manila envelope filled with ice cream-stained papers. “Burn these.”
He drops it unceremoniously into the flames.
It’s satisfying to watch the papers turn into ash.
“My retirement will be announced tomorrow,” Brock says. “The Royals had a complete meltdown when they realized that Renn and I were both leaving. Serves them right.”
“Are you going to play in the charity game next weekend?” Renn asks him.
“No,” Ella and I say together.
Brock sighs. “It sounds like I’m not.”
“You have no business out there,” I say. “We are no longer a rugby family.”
“We have to find something to do with our time,” Renn says. “We can’t sit here all day staring at our beautiful wives. We have to do something.”
“You can golf,” Ella offers.
“Actually,” Brock says, sitting and pulling Ella onto his lap. “We were thinking about starting a podcast. We don’t need the money; we need to have something to do. And who knows what a podcast can turn into.”
“There’s zero chance of getting hurt,” Renn chimes in.
The doorbell rings. I excuse myself and head to the foyer. I turn the handle, swinging open the door.
My heart skips a beat.Okay. We’re doing this.
