Page 1 of Grace Notes
Prologue
Emryn,
I love you. I really do, but these vows might be the death of me. Are you sure we have to write our own? Can’t we just—you know, use the traditional kind?
You know I’m not a man of many words, but I come by it honestly. Just look at my dad and brother. Those two use grunts as their main form of communication.
It’s been twenty minutes since I sat down in the kitchen to work on these things, and I have nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch. Every time I put my pen on the paper to start writing, my mind goes blank.
Why am I like this?
You deserve grand gestures and big romantic moments.
I want to give you that.
So, I’ll keep working—but I’m not promising perfection. In fact, these may be the worst vows in the history of vow renewals. Just know that I tried, okay?
I tried for you, even if I do end up looking like a fool.
At least Grayson will get a good laugh if I end up embarrassing myself. No one told me how annoying it would be to have a big brother.
Do you think there’s a return policy? I’m trading him in if there is. He’s defective.
Love you always,
Brooks
Chapter 1
Brooks
“Are you listening to me?”
A sense of déjà vu washes over me. I’ve had this conversation with my wife before. She stood right here beside me in this kitchen almost a year ago and asked me that same question. Only I wasn’t listening that day. I lied and told myself I was, but something in me was fundamentally broken then. I had just been too stubborn to recognize it.
Emryn had left, and I can say with certainty now that it was the best thing she ever did for our marriage.
We started seeing a therapist and working on our marriage for our daughter, and we still do to this day.
It’s not to say that we don’t still have hard days—we do—but we know how to cope with them. And that’s made all the difference.
Setting my phone down on the counter, I look up at Emryn. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun, but some of the layers are falling out, too short to stay pulled back. She huffs, looking up and blowing the strands out of her face. When she looks back at me, there’s a grin on my lips that I can’t entirely wipe away.
The woman is beautiful.
“Well?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips, sassy just like our daughter. “Were you listening to me?”
Pushing my chair back, I stand and reach for her hips, pulling her to me. She comes willingly, falling into my chest and melting. I can feel the heat of her through my t-shirt, making my blood heat. This woman is everything I’ve ever dreamed of and so much more.
If I had to choose a favorite place in this world, this would be it—holding my wife in my arms.
“I wasn’t listening,” I admit. “I’m sorry, but I’m listening now. What is it you want to talk about?”
Part of what we’ve learned in therapy is to self-reflect on our actions—notice when we are wrong and change it.
Emryn stares up at me with a good-natured smile on her face. “At least you admit it, I guess.”
“It was painful,” I joke, holding her tight against me when she goes to pull away. “Kidding. I’m kidding.”
