Page 29 of Red, White, and You

She’s something to see in a suit and expensive heels.

Stunning in a simple dress and flats.

Damn near the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in the morning when her hair is mussed and her eyes are puffy with sleep.

But this Brie, the one with wind in her hair and a wild expression on her face might be my favorite version of her.

We land on the first platform, our bodies swaying slightly as we detach ourselves from the zipline. Brie turns to me, her eyes shining with a newfound light. “That was amazing,” she breathes, her smile wide and eyes bright.

With a soft chuckle, I lean in and capture her mouth in a lingering kiss, savoring the taste of freedom and possibility on her lips. I have no doubt in my mind that selling this place and moving to New York to be with her is the right decision.

She can continue to dominate in every courtroom she enters, and I’ll be waiting for her at home, ready to remind her when it’s time to unwind.

And if she ever forgets how, I’ll be there to remind her of that, too.

Brie

I stand at the edge of the outdoor dance floor, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. The night sky above is black behind a canopy of neon lights that have been strung up in a crisscross pattern across the open space, casting a soft amber glow upon the sprawling dance floor.

Laughter drifts through the air, accompanied by people speaking too loudly, shoes shuffling around clumsily, and heels clicking against the wooden façade.

But there’sno music.

Each camper wears headphones, but without them, I can’t hear the song or follow the beat. They look ridiculous, and honestly, I can’t say I understand the allure.

Frankly, I just don’t get it.

My shoulders are tense as I watch, my fingers gripped tightly around my glass of wine.

I’ve taken time off to be here. I’ve waterskied. Today, I even ziplined, for God’s sake. I’ve gone as far as taking a break from blow-drying and styling my hair.

But a silent disco? Dancing around to music no one else can hear?

The very thought of it fills me with dread.

I sip my wine and watch as couples and groups of singles twirl and sway, their bodies moving to the rhythm of only God knows what song.

Could be Calvin Harris.

Could be The Wiggles.

Is it all the same song or does each person have something different streaming into their ears?

The wireless headphones Brady gave me hang around my wrist—and that’s as close as they’ll get to my ears. Unless… could I connect to my cell phone and pull up a podcast? Catch the latest episode ofLawyerist?

NowthatI might be into.

I scan the campers, searching for my ex-husband amidst the kaleidoscope of colors and movements. He stands across the dancefloor, and when our eyes meet, the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. He smiles, and everything else disappears.

Almost.

There’s still a sea of people dancing around like fools.

They part as he steps onto the dancefloor, making room for the man they all adore as he strides toward me. With every step he takes in my direction, my tension eases.

He’s dressed in a snug black t-shirt tonight, a pair of black jeans sitting low on his hips, and dark chestnut chukka boots. He fits in here, obviously, but could just as easily be the center of attention at a nightclub in the city.

I lick my lips as he approaches me and his eyebrows rise playfully.

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