Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(98)

“Oh, yeah. That’s all.”

It was, too, at first. She asked him a thousand questions about his plans, and nodded approvingly at his answers. He showed her the social media accounts he’d set up, and she told him why all his captions sucked and how to find decent hashtags.

And that was absolutely all.

But then Chloe got tired, so they lay down. And then she kissed him, and his brain malfunctioned, and the next thing he knew he was on top of her, holding her hands and licking into her mouth while she moaned.

And then, in the middle of it all, she gasped, “Oh, I almost forgot! Our shelved topic.”

“What?” he growled, dragging his lips down her throat.

“The fact that you love me.”

He stilled.

“It’s very sweet, of course,” she said, in a voice so innocent he just knew.

“Chloe.”

“And highly flattering, particularly coming from someone as wonderful as you—”

“Chloe.”

“What? It’s rude to interrupt, you know.”

He grinned down at her. “Stop torturing me. Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“Woman—”

“I love you, Red. I love you, I love you, I—mmpf!” She broke off with a squeak when he kissed her, hard.

Those three little words sounded so fucking good, but they tasted even better on her lips.





EPILOGUE


One Year Later

Chloe, you awful cow, it’s about time you—oh, hello there, Red.” Eve, as always, was on her best behavior the moment she saw Red’s face on her phone screen.

Chloe didn’t bother to hide her eye roll. “Yes, hello, dearest sister. I thought I’d check in before we got on with our day.”

“That’s not true,” Red said helpfully, raising his voice over the sounds of traffic and the clatter of hundreds of footsteps that were part and parcel of a busy New York street. “I made her do it.”

Chloe trod on his foot. He gave her an unapologetic grin.

“Honestly, Red, thank God you’re with her,” Eve tutted. “I bet you’ve already called your mum today. Like a good child.” She glared pointedly at Chloe, then turned away from the camera and hollered, “EVERYONE! CHLOE’S ON THE PHONE!”

And, wouldn’t you know it, the entire family happened to be at home. Just Chloe’s luck. Dani appeared first—shouldn’t she be in a library somewhere, starving in the name of academia?—followed by Dad, who was still wearing his coat as always, like he might fly off somewhere any minute. Then came Mum—oh, no, that was Aunt Mary without makeup. Mum was next, her smile uncharacteristically broad. She liked Red, thought he was a lovely boy, which was code for “strong enough to protect my darling daughter if she insists on gallivanting about the world.”

Chloe did indeed insist.

And then, finally, Gigi appeared, shoving everyone else out of the way until her face took up almost the entire screen. Gigi still hadn’t quite grasped the finer points of a video call, so she liked to make absolutely certain that her brilliance could be seen. She beamed and held up a wriggling, protesting Smudge.

Yes, they had Smudge. When Chloe and Red moved into a flat that allowed pets, Annie had provided a most welcome house-warming gift.

“Darling,” Gigi purred, “are you having the absolute time of your life?”

“Perhaps,” Chloe said with a private smile.

Down where her family couldn’t see, Red’s gloved hand squeezed hers.

“Smudge misses you awfully. Don’t you, Smudge?”

Smudge looked, at best, apathetic.

“I miss him, too,” Chloe said.

New York in winter was absolutely freezing. For that reason, despite missing her family a little bit, Chloe hurried through the call. She’d text them all later, she assured them, and yes, she was feeling fine, and New York was indeed exciting, but no, she wouldn’t compare it to Kenya or Belgium or Cuba because they were all just so different and all equally amazing.

Which was a lie, of course. Cuba had been her favorite. But she and Red weren’t done jet-setting.

Then, finally, the last of her relatives said good-bye, and she put the phone down and turned to Red. “Sorry. I should’ve known that would take forever.”

“It’s fine, Chlo.”

“It’s not. I was practically teasing you.” She glanced at the glass entrance behind them to the Museum of Modern Art, then back at Red. He was almost bursting with excitement. The cold had turned the tip of his nose and his high cheekbones pale pink. His green eyes were bright, like a spark of midsummer in the middle of winter. He was so, so divine. She didn’t know how he could be real. “I know you’re dying to go in. Shall we?”

“Oh, yeah. But first …” He brought his hand to her cheek, and she didn’t even mind that his glove was cold and a little wet from the softly falling snow. “Let me see if I can find anything to kiss under all these layers.”

Maybe she’d gone slightly overboard with the scarves—two—and the hats—again, two—but it was cold.

“You want to kiss me now?” she squawked as he nudged aside the wool protecting her skin from the harsh wind. “At this very minute?”