Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

“I’d like that.” He scanned the space, finding the living room much smaller than he remembered, but a little paint and new hardwood floors would help brighten up the space.

Clara tipped her head back, hitting him with those warm eyes. “Is it weird being back here?”

“No, not weird,” he said, releasing the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “It’s just a house now.” He glanced around the dirty walls with peeling wallpaper. “But there are memories here, and many of those memories are good.” Christmas mornings. Easter dinners. So much happiness when his mother had been with them. Her smile was what he remembered the most.

“It’s good you have those memories,” Clara said, offering her captivating smile. “I have so many good memories in this house too.”

“I’m glad you do,” he said, dropping his mouth to hers.

The kiss didn’t last. Mason came barreling back into the living room. Before he took off again, Sullivan kept Clara close but said to Mason, “So, buddy, we’ve got a question for you.” When Mason stopped bouncing around the room, he set those clever eyes on Sullivan. “What would you think about moving in here, with me, after we fix it up? You can even help paint your bedroom.”

Mason’s eyes widened, a big smile filling his face. Until he frowned. “What

about Auntie Amelia?”

“She’ll be okay,” Clara said, stepping out of Sullivan’s hold. “She’s getting married soon, to Luka, remember? They’re going to want their own space, and Luka will move in with her at the brewery.” When she went to Mason and knelt in front of him, his forehead wrinkled. Clara took both his hands. “This is your choice, sweetie. If you don’t like it here or it doesn’t make you happy, we can stay with Auntie Amelia and figure out the rest later.”

Sullivan would live with Amelia and Luka if he had to, all to make Mason adjust to this new life with Sullivan in it.

Mason nibbled his bottom lip then glanced at Sullivan. “You’ll live here too, with me and Mama?”

Following Clara’s lead, Sullivan joined Clara and took a knee next to Mason, cupping his shoulder. “I’d like to, if that’s okay with you.”

Mason looked between Sullivan and Clara. A couple of times. He rocked back on his heels, and his smile beamed. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good stuff,” Sullivan said, giving Mason a quick high five. But that was only half the reason Sullivan brought Mason and Clara here today. He gave Mason a little nudge on his arm. “Remember, just like we talked about.” When Clara looked on with confusion, Sullivan explained, “Mason and I were talking earlier today, and we both decided our family should be a little more official than it is.”

Mason took the ring box from his pocket, and as he held it up, he exclaimed, “Mama, let’s get married!”

Clara jumped to her feet, her hands covering her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

Determined to get this next step in his life right, Sullivan took the ring from the box and held it up to her. “I loved you the day I met you, Slugger. It took a few years, but I finally found my way back to you. Nothing would make me happier than for you to be my wife. Will you marry me, Clara?”

“Yes,” she cried, dropping her hands. “Yes, of course.”

His wife. Sullivan felt a new purpose wash over him—one to always make her happy—as she slid the princess-cut diamond ring on her finger, a perfect fit. “I love you, Clara,” he told her, his voice rough to his own ears.

She smiled through the tears. “I love you, too.”

Overwhelmed by this life she’d given him, he gathered her in his arms, and his lips sealed over hers.

“Ew,” Mason said, proceeding to make gagging noises.

Sullivan laughed against Clara’s mouth then reached out to tickle Mason’s side, sending him into a fit of laughter.

When that laughter ceased, Mason looked up between Clara and Sullivan, swaying from side to side. “So, does this mean I can call you Dad now?”

Sullivan froze.

Clara laughed softly at whatever crossed Sullivan’s expression and wrapped her arm around Mason, pulling him into her. “Sweetie, you can call Sullivan whatever makes you happy.”

Mason wiggled out from Clara’s hold. His clever eyes searched Sullivan’s and then he said, “I like Dad. I’ll call you that.”

Sullivan felt his throat tighten. He gathered Mason—his son—in his arms and hugged him tightly, even if he was obviously too big for hugs from parents. “I’d like that too, buddy.”

Mason withstood the hug for a couple of seconds before tearing away and took off, running down the hallway. “What room is mine?” he called.

“The one on the left,” Sullivan answered. His old bedroom.