Risky Business

The whole property is like a paradise on earth, with everything you can imagine—a movie theater, bowling, horses, pools, a lake, ball courts, and more. Being a teenager here would’ve been amazing.

Though growing up at Americana Land with roller coasters wasn’t too bad either, I think with a smile.

Dad and I are doing much better now too, at work and as a family. We haven’t heard another peep from Archer since his unexpected showing at the charity event, and I agree with Jayme that it was intended as some sort of shakedown for money. When that didn’t work, he crawled back under whatever rock he lives under.

But along with these Brooks family dinners, Jayme and I have started having dinner with Dad, Izzy, and Toni regularly too. Dad still tries to get Jayme to come work for Americana Land, but I think it’s more of a joke or habit now. He couldn’t afford her full-time consultant rate, anyway. Sometimes, even Topper comes, though I’ve yet to hear him string together more than seven words at a time. Toni says he writes her poetry, though, so I guess there’s that.

We walk through the side door of the house, the entry closest to the private helipad, and Jayme calls out, “We’re here!”

From deep in the house, in the direction of the family room, an echoing cheer sounds out. “In here!”

Jayme takes my hand, pulling me in the direction of all the voices, and I let her go in before me. “Oh, my God! You’re all here!” she shouts, looking around the room. “This is amazing!”

This is the first of my surprises, and honestly, the hardest one. Getting all the Brookses together at the same time can quite literally require an act of legislation, or at least a threat of death from Momma Brooks.

James, Yuri, and their son, Kent.

John, Sarah, and their boys, who I can never tell apart, but one is Grayson and one is Hunter.

Jordan and Drew.

Joel, Keilah, and their new baby girl, Norah.

And of course, Jameson and Leah.

All stand to greet us. “The gang’s all here,” Jameson says with a hearty laugh.

“I’m so happy,” Leah chokes out, tearing up.

We work our way around the room, hugging and shaking hands with each other, and I realize that though Jayme talks about her brothers as though she’s seen them recently, for some of them, they haven’t seen each other in over a year. Especially James and Yuri since they moved to Japan. They stay in touch with phone calls and texts, but this is different.

I stand back, taking it all in.

“You sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Jameson whispers to me from behind his scotch glass.

“Not a chance.”

He smiles, giving me a proud nod. “Can I make a suggestion then?”

He waits for me to disagree, which I’m definitely not going to do because my heart is racing, my stomach is flip-flopping like I’m on the loop-de-loops of our The American Revolution roller coaster, and my feet are drumming on the wood floor like I’ve taken up tap dancing.

“Do it now. Get it over with before anyone has to leave. There’s going to be a crisis somewhere, or a diaper that needs to be changed, or something. Right now, everyone’s here. Do it.”

Oh, shit. That’s what this whole night is for, but I thought I’d have a chance to build up my guts. Maybe slip it into conversation at dinner or something. But Jameson is right.

I clear my throat and step forward.

“Uhm, everyone . . . if I could have your attention for a second, please?”

The chatter of various Brookses talking over each other dies out as all eyes turn to me. “Carson?” Jayme whispers. “You okay?”

I cover the few feet between us and take Jayme’s hand in mine, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.” I take a big breath, trying to remember the words I practiced, but they’re gone, simply lost to the static in my head. I decide to speak from the heart and hope it’s enough. “Jayme, the first time I met you, I thought you were a smug bitch, and you called me an arrogant asshole.”

One of her brothers let out a small chuckle, and someone whispers, “She can be.”

“We’ve come a long way since then, learning and growing, both together and apart, supporting each other and taking some really fun and rewarding risks. There is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. So, Jayme Brooks Rice . . .”

I drop to my knee in front of her, pulling a black velvet box from my pocket. I open the box, hoping she likes the ring I had custom-made for her. It’s a sapphire, not a diamond, but the stone and setting felt like Jayme—unique and bold, delicate and strong.

She gasps, covering her mouth with her free hand as tears spring to her eyes. “Oh, Carson!”