Epilogue
DELANEY
A year and a half later
“Delaney, get over here!” Brewer shouted from across the large new deck on the back of the house. “Cheese or no cheese on your burger?”
Hayes nudged me. “He’s calling for you, bro. Tell him double cheese for me and my boo. Gracias.”
“You tell him,” I said before thinking up a reason to head back into the house. Unfortunately, Brewer caught me at the back door.
“Come with me,” he growled, pulling me by the elbow toward the monstrosity he called a grill.
“Oh, no, thank you,” I said airily. “Important things in the kitchen. Must fetch them. brB, love.”
“Delaney Patrick Monroe,” he snapped. “Contrary to your belief, you are not a danger to those you love while in proximity to a grill. Get over here and handle my cheese.”
“You make it sound dirty,” I muttered, following obediently now that I was caught out. “And, look, any number of our friends and family could have helped you with your little cheese problem.”
The deep rumble of his laugh helped mitigate my nerves as we approached the Master Grill Station Ten Thousand or whatever the hell this thing was called. “ You’re my little cheese problem. You offered for everyone to put in special cheese requests on their burgers and then left me to manage six variations of cheese options.” He pointed to the tray with all of the gourmet slices on it. “Who wants what?”
I began to tick everyone’s preferences off on my fingers. “Samuel wants Gouda, Oliver wants cheddar, Derry wants?—”
“Numbers, babe. How many of each?”
I handed him the slices and watched as he tossed them onto the patties, as if being this close to an open flame was no big deal. Thankfully, Teeny sensed my nerves and appeared at my side as she always did.
“Hey, big girl,” I murmured, tangling a hand into her fluffy ruff. “I know you asked for five slices of Kraft American, but this house has standards, remember? We talked about it. No more square cheese product. It’s because we love you. Studies show?—”
She cut me off with a little woof of complaint.
“Don’t think she likes your studies, babe,” Brewer said.
“She liked the one about treat frequency versus tail-wag intensity,” I reminded him before turning to greet Chris and Reed Sunday. “Good God, is that a baby?” I blurted. “Your surrogate gave birth?”
Chris beamed at me, holding the blanket-wrapped raisin proudly. “Meet Andrew Dante Sunday. He’s three weeks old today.”
Reed’s big hand splayed on Chris’s lower back as he smiled lovingly down at his little family. “How could you not have known? My brothers took out an ad in the Gazette and the Little Pippin Hollow newspaper. I’m surprised they didn’t ask the New York Times to run an article about it.”
Brewer leaned around me to gaze at the wrinkly newborn. The way his face softened made my nonexistent ovaries twitch a little. “Looks like a charcuterie specialist in the making. Well done, guys.”
Chris teared up. “You think? Gosh, that would be amazing! He could work side by side with me and?—”
“Already got him a Nerf gun,” Reed cut in. “Proper weapons handling needs to start from the cradle. Ask any operative.”
Chris frowned. “I don’t think?—”
Tam stood up and stretched her back, inadvertently thrusting her giant belly into the patio table. “Fuck me, I wish this one had a weapon so he could shoot his way out right now,” she muttered. “Remind me never to gestate another boy. They’re violent and mean.”
Lucas walked up and handed her a cold glass of lemonade before kissing her on the lips. “Tierney was just this bad, and you know it. And not ten minutes ago, I saw her playing dainty teacups with the most beautiful set of?—”
The clatter of grill tools followed us as Brewer and I bolted into the house. “I forgot to lock the cabinet,” I cried over my shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”
“I locked it,” he said, grabbing my hand as we skittered to a stop in the kitchen and found Derry Bartlett and Bennett Graham’s niece—who were home from college for the summer—sitting on the ground playing with Tierney. In the toddler’s chubby hand was a little plastic teacup that looked like it had come from a Disney playset.
“Oh.” Brewer and I said at the same time. I glanced at the glass-front cabinet that held Brewer’s grandmother’s teacups. The cabinet he’d lovingly crafted for me when we’d first gotten together. All of the teacups were safely tucked behind the glass, and the lock was clearly secure.
I blew out a breath. “You all okay in here?”
Derry’s eyebrows dipped in confusion. “Yeah? Me and Vega are just keeping an eye on Tierney.” He elbowed his friend. “Vega, do you know Delaney? He’s Tam Monroe’s brother. The one who found the paintings.”
“Ohhh, right.” Vega nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
For a second, I was almost amused. I’d gone from being the non-hockey-playing camper-arsonist to the finder of hidden paintings? All in all, a sweet trade.
But it was much sweeter knowing I didn’t really care anymore what other people called me. I was a brilliant journalist. I was a Coppertian. And I was Brewer Barnum’s one true love.
“You too.” I nodded. “Can I get you guys anything?”
Derry’s face lit up. “I’m starving. Those burgers almost ready?”
Brewer’s eyes bulged. “The burgers.”
Just then, someone yelled, “Fire!”
The two of us took off running toward the deck. When we burst through the back door, Janice Plum was gesturing animatedly. “And then the big, sexy fire chief climbed up the tree, of course, and rescued the kitten shifter, if you can believe it? He got there just in time and foiled the arsonist. And the badger fire chief and kitten accountant professed their love, which was a very…” She sniffed. “Poignant moment, as you can imagine.”
Angela Ross rolled her eyes. “As far as honey badger shifter romance goes.”
I glanced over to the grill where Brewer was taking the tools back from Bennett and thanking him profusely for saving the burgers.
My shoulders fell as I let out a breath. “Jesus.”
Lawson winked at me. “Agreed. Who knew romance novels were so exciting? I think I’m going to need a permanent pass to your book club, brother of mine.”
He sat on a comfortable chair off to the side of the deck with his leg propped up on a small table and his strappy brace covering the nasty scars from his recent knee surgery.
“You should retire and come book-club with me full-time,” I urged. It wasn’t the first time I’d suggested it. His body couldn’t keep taking a beating year after year like this.
“Nah. Still got a little juice left in the tank. Hell, if I can find a personal PT to come work for me full-time, I might be able to make it through a few more seasons. But I like my visits to Copper County. Don’t know if you know this, but the Kraken Warlord series got me through the stress of playoffs and my resulting surgery.” He leaned forward to reach for Tierney when Derry brought her outside. “C’mere, Li’l T. Uncle Law needs someone to cuddle and show me her sparkly nail polish.”
Tierney’s face lit up when she heard the words sparkly nail polish, so I left the two of them and wandered over to the grill to help Brewer.
Once we’d served everyone and finally found our own spot on the steps down into the yard, Brewer watched as I took a huge bite of my burger.
“I want kids,” he said.
I began choking and sputtering. The damned asshole only grinned. “You did that on purpose!” I accused after catching my breath and taking a healthy swallow of beer.
“Maybe. But it’s still true.”
I opened my mouth to say… well, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to say—it wasn’t that I didn’t want a family because I did, I just wasn’t sure if I was ready or not—when he held up a hand. “Now, before you quote studies at me or tell me I’m rushing you, I need you to know I’m not in a hurry. I guess I’m just… I’m happy, Delaney. And I want to share it. Grow it. Grow something with you.”
Across the yard, Watt Bartlett was showing Jasper the ramp Brewer had built onto the dock so that Teeny could get herself out of the water without swimming all the way to shore. Jasper peered up at his husband with amused affection while Watt mimicked the way Teeny lumbered up the ramp and shook off the water as soon as she was almost all the way to the top.
I looked back at Brewer. “Maybe it’s time I gave you your birthday present.”
His eyebrows dipped. “You gave me a new air compressor for my birthday, which was three months ago, for what it’s worth. Not to mention, you also gave me tickets to Mamma Mia and a trip to New York to see it.”
For some reason, I was nervous. “Right. And I had this ready for you, too, but I knew you’d probably refuse it, and I can’t… I don’t…” I blew out a breath and met his eyes. “Please don’t refuse it,” I finished in a whisper before pulling out a worn piece of paper from my back pocket. I’d been carrying it around ever since I’d chickened out on his real birthday.
Brewer pulled the paper from my grip and unfolded it. I watched his expression carefully as he realized what he was looking at.
“This is a deed to your house.”
“ Our house,” I corrected, nodding at the paper. “If… if you’ll have it.”
We both knew I wasn’t just offering the deed to my house. I was offering him my home, our home. A permanent place in my bed and in my life.
And in my heart.
Brewer’s giant hand cupped the back of my head as he smiled softly down at me. “Of course I’ll have it, love. Everything I hold most dear is in this house.”
“Your teacups?” I teased.
He leaned in and kissed me long and hard before pulling back and meeting my eyes. “Nah. The kitchen cabinets. Oh, and the custom-designed vanity I made you that matched Theo’s girthy one.”
I remembered coming home from Lawson’s playoff game in Toronto to find the vanity of my dreams installed in the downstairs bath, and the memory made me a little swoony.
Still, it didn’t do to let one’s boyfriend—even if they were a beloved, custom-cabinet-making boyfriend—get too complacent, so I pinched his side. “Asshole.”
He kissed me again, his fingers tangling in my hair. When he pulled away this time, we were both breathing heavily. He grinned at me.
“Okay, fine. The best damned jam cupboard I could have ever found.”
I crawled into his lap and straddled him, right there in front of everyone, and kissed him for all he was worth. Brewer’s arms tightened around me as a small, familiar sound of surrender escaped his throat.
He was right. Jam cupboards were the absolute best.
And so was this life I’d found in Copper County. My big, beautiful, limitless life with Brewer Barnum, our historic home, plenty of friends and family, and possibly little bossy baby Brewers running around one day.
We weren’t misfits anymore. We were exactly where we were meant to be.