Page 139 of Denim & Diamonds

“They sent you to Meadowbrook.”

I smiled. “That’s true. I have them to thank for bringing you into my life. And in hindsight, I think I actually needed the mental break. So yeah, I guess they didonegood thing.” I paused. “How about you? How are you juggling all your businesses with the baby?”

“I hired someone to cover my shifts at the bar. Terrance was our local sheriff for thirty years. He retired six months ago and was going stir crazy at home. Said he was getting a job or a divorce, so he started yesterday. I think he could be good for the place.”

“Oh, that’s great. That leaves you with only two full-time jobs then—building log cabins and being a dad. Actually, it’s three if you count building your own cabin, too. How’s that going? Your brothers were supposed to start helping you with that, right?”

Brock nodded. “They did. And even though they’ve been working their tails off, I’ve realized it would take forever to finish at the rate I’m going. So this morning, I bit the bullet and put a full-time crew on at my place to help finish up.”

“Oh wow. I thought you wanted to do it all yourself? That was your dream. You’d put every stone on that big fireplace and cut every log.”

“I did, but what I want now takes a backseat to what Patrick needs. This apartment is bursting at the seamsalready. I want him to have a home.” He shrugged. “I guess dreams change. It’s funny because I don’t even remember why it was so damn important for me to build it myself anymore. Everything seems unimportant now except making things good for my son.”

That stabbed my heart a little, and it must have shown on my face.

“I didn’t meanyouwere unimportant,” Brock clarified.

“It’s fine. I get it.”

We talked for another half hour, until Patrick woke up and started to fuss. “I have to feed him. You want to hang on while I go make a bottle?”

“No, you go do what you need to do.” I smiled. “It was really good to talk to you. I’m glad everything is going well, Brock.”

He was quiet for a beat, then simply nodded.

“Give me a call when you have time,” I added.

“Actually, I’m going to christen the baby next week. It’s not going to be a big thing. Just my brothers and a few friends, some six-foot heroes and beer at the bar after. But I thought maybe…” He raked a hand through his hair. “I understand if you can’t. I just wanted to put the offer out there.”

“Can I get back to you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

After we hung up, melancholy set in. The silence of my apartment felt really loud, and after another glass of wine, I decided to call it an early night. But ninety minutes after getting into bed, I was still staring up at the ceiling, thinking about something Brock had said.Dreams change. Had mine? I’d been hung up on building an empire for as long as I could remember.What was I reaching for anymore? My company was successful. I owned my apartment. I lived a good life. Maybe I wasn’t Christian Dior or Louis Vuitton, but I had a brand with value, a brand I was proud of. What more would I need to feel like I’d made it? To be able to stop running toward something and enjoy where I was?

I chewed on my lip. Hadmydream changed? Could I give up my life here and be happy being a stepmom? Would I be content living a simple life in Maine? Pushing a stroller on long morning walks instead of drinking my third cup of coffee while taking business calls from Europe at eight AM? Could I give up everything I’d worked for?

Dreams change.

I supposed they could. But had mine?

With that thought still rattling around in my head, my cell buzzed from the nightstand. For some reason, I felt in my bones that it was going to be Brock. He was going to say something that made all the tough questions a little easier to answer. I just knew it.

Though when I picked up the phone, the message wasn’t from Brock at all.

It was another handsome man.

Matthew: Hey. I had a great time at lunch the other day. Would love to pick your brain about a few things. Could we possibly meet for lunch again one day next week?

I stared down at the phone, trying not to let myself think this was a sign—God was trying to redirect my attention. Though it felt even more like that when the next text came in.

Matthew: Or maybe dinner?

CHAPTER 37

Brock

“Don’t kill me,” my brother Axe said as he walked into my house one afternoon.

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