Page 92 of Paging Dr. Summers

She had no idea what this meant to me. I’d been unsure how to approach this day with Brooke, with our relationship being newish and with some of the complexities we’d already faced. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was letting Erica come between us again; nor did I want to ignore Erica’s birthday. So, I’d just offhandedly mentioned Erica’s birthday was coming up. I should have known Brooke would understand and just been open about it. I obviously still had a lot to learn.

“Thank you, Brooke.” I leaned down and lifted her chin, giving me access to those soft lips of hers I couldn’t get enough of. My lips brushed hers, and her tongue skimmed mine, allowing me to taste the ganache she’d obviously sampled. I deepened the kiss, and she responded instantly, pressing into me, the warmth of her body molding against mine. The taste of chocolate mingled with something sweeter—her. Entirely her.

Her fingers curled into my shirt, anchoring me there, deepening the connection as if she knew exactly what I needed in that moment—something real. I kissed her again, slower this time, letting it say everything I wanted to put into words but wasn’t sure I could.

When we finally pulled apart, her breath danced across my lips. Not ready to let go, I rested my forehead against hers and took a moment to breathe her in.

“I love you.” The feelings turned into words. Words I hadn’t planned on saying but that I meant all the same.

We’d been dancing around the phrase for days, hiding behind the safety offalling in loveinstead of admitting what was already true. But there was no denying it now. I loved her, and she needed to know.

She stilled, holding her breath, and for a moment, I worried I’d been too hasty. But then, in her rich alto voice, she whispered against my lips, “I love you, Logan Summers. So much.”

We let it linger between us, not saying another word until Brooke leaned away and gave me that crooked grin of hers—the one that always did me in, especially because it brought out her one dimple.

“Let’s celebrate your wife.” Her voice was lighthearted, but the sincerity was undeniable.

“You are incredible.” There were no other words that fit.

“I want her to love me, and I want to love her. So, we are going to play Erica’s Ten Favorite Things. And, of course, we’re going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her and eat cake because—PS—it’s so good.” She pointed at the cake with reverence.

“I figured, by the way you tasted.” I chuckled.

“Well, I got bored waiting for you, so I might have had a few swipes of ganache.” She raised her fingers as if still savoring the remnants.

“No judgment here.” I pulled out a chair for her before taking a seat next to her.

Brooke pulled a handwritten note out of her bag with a list of questions. “Okay, first question: What is Erica’s favorite color?”

“Brown.” I smiled, thinking of how well she’d looked in it. She’d called it her black.

Brooke tapped the paper thoughtfully. “I bet brown went well with her red hair.”

“It did.” It was strange how easy it was to talk to Brooke about my wife.

“Okay, next question. Favorite food?”

“Sushi.”

Brooke wrinkled her nose and shuddered dramatically. “I will respect Erica’s taste buds, but raw fish and I will never be friends.”

I grinned, knowing how much Brooke detested sushi.

“Her favorite time of day?” Brooke asked.

“She was a morning person. She thought sleeping in past six was a travesty, even if we were on vacation.” I could never convince her to spend a lazy morning in bed with me.

“That’s admirable,” Brooke commented. “I’m not that disciplined.”

“You don’t have to be.” I wanted to be sure she knew that.

“I know.” She nudged me. “Speaking of vacation. Where was her favorite place to visit?”

“She loved Ireland.” I thought of our trips there with fondness. Erica had this knack for finding the quaintest bed-and-breakfasts to stay at.

“I’ve always wanted to go there.” Brooke sighed dreamily.

It dawned on me that nothing was keeping Brooke and me from doing just that. After all, I loved her. “Let’s plan a trip.”

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