Then you happened, p.32
Then You Happened,
p.32
After my cheek is covered in slobbery, little boy kisses, I squeeze him tight a little longer than usual. I relish the moment in a way I never thought I’d get the chance to. I take the second to adore my second child before my first catches sight, gets jealous, and demands twice as much attention in turn.
But the usual doesn’t play out because Rein squeals in excitement at the exact same time the front door opens, sending a gust of snowflakes into the hallway.
“Smells good!” Jack says, and even amid all the other voices that follow suit, his is the one that still causes butterflies in my stomach. His is the one that still puts that automatic smile on my lips.
“It’s utter chaos in here,” I call out as I wipe my hands on a dishtowel, “but that’s what you get when you let a two- and four-year-old help.”
I turn the corner and stop in my tracks.
It’s a simple sight that I’m certain is unfolding all over the United States of America tonight. My friends and family all just walked in, chattering away as they take off their coats and readying themselves for the good, the bad, and the ugly of family time during the holidays.
Click.
There is something about this snapshot of a picture that awes me.
Because it’s mine.
“Hey.” Jack’s hands slide around my waist and pull me into him for a soft kiss. “Dinner smells good. You smell better.” His hand squeezes my ass, and my eyes flash up to his. “I know a way we can work off those calories later,” he murmurs with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.
“I’m sure you do.” I bat his hands away as if they annoy me when they do anything but.
Tack’s squeals fill the air as he sees Will, his favorite of the group.
“If it’s not my favorite squirt, Bridle,” Will says, carrying on the running joke of our family and friends over our kids’ names.
“Nope!” Tack yells.
“Oh, you’re right. I forgot. It’s Hoof. Nice to meet you, Hoof.” Will holds out his hand to shake Tack’s and receives a belly giggle in response.
“No way.”
“Hmm. Let me think. Horseshoe?”
Another giggle. “It’s Tack!” he shouts before Will picks him up and spins him around.
Rein runs into the room with a flying leap, her bouncy curls flying and new dress whirling around her as she waits for someone to take notice of her sparkly shoes.
“Fi will notice first,” Jack says.
“Oh my god!” Fi says as if on cue and moves to hug our little drama queen.
“It’ll be weird without Sylvester,” Jack says quietly.
I nod, my chest constricting at the thought and knowing it’s weird for him without Lauren here too.
But Jack and Lauren’s relationship beats to its own drum as Jack controls the tempo. This year, he chose to forgo inviting her, but it was his choice, so I didn’t push.
“Who’s hungry?” I ask about the fray and get a raucous response in return.
“Alcohol. If we’re going to eat your cooking, dear, we need alcohol first,” Fi says before enveloping me in the biggest hug. “God, it’s good to see you,” she says into my ear. “And just wait till I tell you about the guy who got my number on the flight.”
JACK
CHATTER FILLS THE HOUSE.
Laughter rings out more often than not, dotted with a few shouts of, “That’s not fairs” from Rein over something Tack did to annoy her. They’re so much like Lauren and I were together as kids it’s scary.
Plates are empty or getting close to it. Glasses of wine have been refilled more times than not.
Tate’s at my side, chatting away. Her curves are softer now, her smile wider, and the caution that used to own her eyes has been gone for years.
Everything has changed about her, gotten better with age but one thing hasn’t.
Her wild.
That’s something I never want to change.
She looks my way and offers a soft smile before going back to talking with Evan, our retired ranch manager here in Montana.
I just sit back and watch everyone.
We started with two ranches: one thriving and one dying.
We started out as two individuals: one who couldn’t trust and one who was a little lost.
We started with nothing and ended up creating everything. This life we’ve surrounded ourselves with people we want to live with is worth more than any balance in any account.
Our new college graduate, Will, who moved here to be with us and help run things in Montana.
Our resident flirt and all-around center of attention, Fiona, who may have married and divorced again.
Our newest addition, Ashley, runs the photography retreat we set up last year in the newly renovated Knox Ranch. There are still horses being bred and the Steely contract is still solid, but behind what used to be the main house, we built cabins to facilitate the new retreat.
Nothing like saying fuck you to the town of Lone Star by building the one thing they judged Tate for.
Old man Evan, who is now retired from the Next Time ranch, sits at the other end and remains as quiet as can be with a ghost of a smile on his face.
My eyes meet Tate’s as I slide my hand out to take hers beneath the table. I know this means the world to her too. The family we created and the love that we’ve fostered.
I catch Will getting flustered when Ashley starts talking to him, and the quick smile Tate wears tells me she sees it too.
We were there once. Falling in love and too stubborn to acknowledge it.
But damn it was fun.
So much has changed. So much is different.
And I wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“Who’s ready for the card exchange?” I ask, garnering a high-pitched cheer from the family room where Rein is off pretending she’s a famous YouTuber.
“That’s my job!” she says and runs into the dining room with a stack of cards in her hand.
“You know the rules,” Tate says. “Each card was filled out by a member of the family. Each one says what that person was thankful for. And you have to guess who wrote it.”
Rein is already halfway through placing cards in front of people when she yells, “Is there a prize for guessing?”
“You and your prizes,” I say.
“These are PG-rated, right?” Fiona asks followed by a cackle.
“We can always count on you to ask that,” Will says.
“Who’s up first?” Tate asks and starts our Thanksgiving tradition.
One by one, our family reads their card and guesses. It doesn’t matter if they guess correctly because there are smiles and more wine and more laughter.
“My turn?” I ask when all of the attention is focused on me.
I open the white envelope and pull the card out. “I’m grateful for sticky cheeks to kiss and tickly tummies to blow raspberries on.”
“Mommy! Mommy!” Rein guesses as she jumps up and down, clearly all the sugar she’s eaten taking full effect.
“It’s your dad’s turn, Rein. Shhh,” Will says and pulls her into his lap to tickle her.
“Let me think,” I play along. “I guess . . . Rein?”
“No!” Rein giggles out.
“Then, Tack?”
“No, silly,” Rein repeats.
“Oh, it’s Tate!” I say and lean forward and press my lips to hers. “I’m grateful for those things too. And you.” I kiss her again.
“Get a room!” Fi shouts out.
“No!” Will says. “We might end up with a Saddle or Filly if they get a room.”
The whole table laughs as Tate rises from her seat. “Next time,” she eyes me, “I get to name the baby.”
I snort. “There will be no more next times.”
Tate’s expression falters for the briefest of seconds as a coy smile plays on her lips. “You sure about that, Sutton?”
Everyone laughs and carries on, but there’s something about the way Tate said it—the softness to it and the love in her eyes when she looked at me . . .
Wait.
What?
“Tate?”
“Mmm?” The dishes she’s clearing clank as she begins to head toward to kitchen.
“Tate,” I repeat as I blink at her in disbelief . . . thinking, wanting, waiting for her answer.
“Don’t blame me that you’re a sure thing.”
THE END
COMING SOON
If you loved Then You Happened or any other K. Bromberg books, she’ll have a whole new series of standalones coming soon about four sisters, the sports management agency they are going to save, and the athletes they plan on signing to their agency to accomplish that.
When it comes to matters of the heart, love most definitely isn’t a game.
Look for the Play Hard Series, coming soon.
Preorder Now
Book 1: Hard to Handle
Book 2: Hard to Hold
Book 3: Hard to Score
Book 4: Hard to Lose
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was a labor of love. I know I say that about every book, but Then You Happened was a struggle from the beginning, all the way to the end for me. Somewhere along the way this past year, I lost my creativity. No matter what I outlined, what I typed, what I tried to pour onto the page, it didn’t feel right. For the first time in my writing career, the words just didn’t come. I felt broken. But there were you, my readers. The ones who day-in, day-out, told me you were eager for my next novel. The ones who left messages and comments to encourage me. I want to thank you for your kind words, your patience, and the motivation you may not have known you provided me with, but did. I saw you. I still see you. I owe so very much to you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Lauren Perry
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary romance novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate but can’t help to love.
A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow and her mind scattered in too many different directions.
Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Kristy has sold over one and a half million copies of her books across eighteen different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over thirty times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by the streaming platform, Passionflix, with the first movie (Driven) out now.
With her imagination always in overdrive, she is currently scheming, plotting, and swooning over her latest hero. You can find out more about him or chat with Kristy on any of her social media accounts. The easiest way to stay up to date on new releases and upcoming novels is to sign up for her newsletter (http://bit.ly/254MWtI) or follow her on Bookbub (http://smarturl.it/KBrombergBB)
K. Bromberg, Then You Happened
