Spontaneity

Hey guys, it’s Briar Rose, yes, your Bri here reporting directly from the crazy rollercoaster that is my life.
I have so much to tell you, I don’t even know where to start. Grab your favorite beverage and hunker down, this is gonna be a big one, so, enjoy.

Family Matters

So, as you already know, Jackson and I stayed close, even after the divorce, even though we didn’t live together, but would visit as often as feasible.
Jackson had kept our wild boy, Beau—not so much our choice, but Beau’s. That kid can’t stand to be away from horses. He loves me, and I love him, but after a day at my parents’ estate with Bonnie, he paces like a caged tiger. And school is definitely not his thing. His grades have always been cringe-worthy, and his teachers have pretty much given up. We had him tested for learning disabilities and none of that, just Beau being Beau, and knowing his father and paternal grandfather, I believe it. He is quiet but not weak—he’s a tornado when upset and crazy stubborn. No punishment or heart-to-heart ever changes his mind. Jackson handles him best, though it’s still a struggle. Beau’s skipped school a million times to study animals, build tipis with his indigenous friends, and avoid anything indoors. Getting that kid to do his homework or study is a serious punishment, Jackson barely graduated high school himself, so it’s been a challenge for both ever since Beau started school.

Bonnie, on the other hand, had stayed with me in San Sequoia because of her severe allergies to several plants native to Chestnut Ridge, she had started school here, which she loves, she is a model student, always competing for top grades with her best friends. She loves looking pretty, if I wanna make her day I take her to a mother-daughter mani-pedi, followed by Starbucks and a trip to ’boutique lane’, a local moniker for three blocks downtown where literally every fashion store you can imagine has a presence, from fast fashion to haute couture. She loves pretty dresses, while you can dress her brother as nice as you like, the minute you turn your back, that boy is back in his jeans, t-shirt, boots and cowboy hat. Funniest thing, they are actually twins.

Ever since Jackson’s new ranch in San Sequoia – still feels all sorts of wrong to write it/say it out loud – has been completed enough for him and the horses to safely live at, he has been living there with Beau, who now goes to school here with Bonnie. Obviously a very different experience for that kid than the little school out in the country he had been going to. It is next to impossible for him to sneak out through any windows or slip out the front gate when nobody is looking, cos here, someone is always looking. So, reluctantly but steadily, Beau’s grades are improving, also thanks to my brother Connor’s tutoring.
It’s not quite as miraculous as it may sound, Beau’s marks are still far from award-worthy, but they no longer bring tears of sheer desperation to my eyes.
Connor’s the only one who can out-stubborn Beau once that kid has shut down, winning every argument until Beau gives up, gives in and starts trying again. It really does take a village to raise a child—and sometimes a big brother who’s just as stubborn as your kid. Speaking from experience here. Connor has a lifetime of experience out-stubborning his two sisters.

Jackson’s teen brother Cody kept getting into trouble (notice the pattern yet? Yes, I blame that on the Kershaw genes because from what I have been told, Jackson had been a very rambunctious while also very withdrawn child and his dad, Jack, to this day won’t show us all the skeletons in his closet, but he wasn’t a shrinking violet, and now Cody and our Beau, yeah, it’s that side of the family for sure.). Anyway, Jack and Izzy were more than eager to move to Chestnut Ridge by now. I am sure eventually Izzy will miss her old home, but for now she is just happy to have traded the rain and chilly weather for almost constant sun and heat. I suspect the fact that Her Royal Majesty the queen of Henfordshire also was Jack’s former lover, not to mention mother of his only daughter had something to do with it. They all always got along splendidly, but it most definitely wasn’t comfortable for any of them. This was easier for everyone involved.

Our Beau gets to go to the old Kershaw Ranch in Chestnut Ridge frequently, staying with his grandpa Jack, since Connor and he visit each other a lot now, both happy to be closer again. Their old friendship never suffered the distance, luckily. Since it’s often easier for Connor to get away than it is for Jack, he packs up Beau and off they go for a fun uncle-nephew adventure. Beau also thinks the world of his teenaged uncle Cody, those two have definitely found each other and often go on little benders together.

Jackson continues his work just as he always had, but now in a new location. Make no mistake, his ranch is still a working ranch in every sense, though my influence is evident in the design, furnishing, and decorations.

Jackson’s many new certifications are proudly displayed on the walls of his home office, which he rarely uses, but Maddie, Mom, and I do when helping with the administrative side of running his therapy horse ranch, ‘Healing Hooves Stables.’ We chose the term ‘stables’ rather than ‘ranch’ to make it sound more appealing to a wider audience. Jackson can’t complain about a slow start, Jasper kept his word, and he was right, all it took was some candid (yeah, right) shots Iris and I took of him being lead around the training ground on horseback by Jackson, sprinkled in some cameos of my Dad and Colton (you’d be surprised how many still recognize them as 2Dark 2C), and me (admittedly I don’t get recognized all that much yet) for good measure, you know, something for everyone, and potential starstruck patients were running down the door hoping to run into one of us here. Once there, they couldn’t help but be drawn in by Jackson’s special charm, and most were hooked. Instant repeat client right there. BAM!

While our marketing methods may have been modern baiting, Jackson takes his job seriously. He patiently helps troubled souls with his horses, and it’s amazing to watch. People with PTSD, anxiety, depression, trauma, burnout—anything you can think of—often come to Healing Hooves Stables as their final hope for regaining any quality of life. It’s incredibly rewarding to watch their inhibitions melt away into big smiles once they get started.

Jackson had taken in people to help them heal before, people others had given up on. Most notably, Stryker Hayes, who deserves an award for even coming up with the idea alongside his wife, Sophie. By the way, those two are doing very well. Stryker looks great, and Sophie is living her best life running her restaurant with her husband and their oldest son, Spencer. Life has come full circle here.

Dodging Disaster: My Near-Miss Ideas

Alright, enough of the happy lala-land, let’s get into the juicy parts—the ones that make you cringe saying, “Oh, Bri!” probably followed by some very unflattering and very personal things about me. I am self-aware, I know when I screw up. Well, at least after the fact I usually do.

Jackson and I still saw each other whenever feasible, obviously as parents with the kids, but also just him and I as lovers. Be forewarned, I have a reputation for not always thinking things through. Impulsiveness is what most call it, though I prefer spontaneity myself.

Anyway, one of my infamous spontaneous ideas started fairly sweet as I would argue. I was getting ready for a business meeting, to speak to another up-and-coming singer-songwriter about a collab for a Valentine’s Day release. As I gave myself the once-over, I turned, flattening my blouse over my midsection, and remembered the baby fever I’d caught while watching my sister Iris’s sonogram. As if in trance, I lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing the old scar from my emergency ovary surgery at 16 that left me with only one ovary and a lot of scar tissue. I blew out my tummy as big as I could get it and ran my hands over it as if I were expecting. I felt all sorts of funny ways, thinking about how the doctors said pregnancy would be unlikely for me, yet I ended up with a surprise pregnancy of twins who are now six years old. Suddenly, all my birth control—diaphragms and condoms, since I couldn’t take pills or IUDs because of the risk of cysts and scar tissue complications—went into the trash. I wanted to tempt fate and see if I could pull off that trick again, like playing a sort of Russian Roulette with babies. Yeah, I know …

That same night my parents were babysitting, Jackson and I went out, had a great time, and ended up at the ranch. The house was newly built and still smelled of fresh paint. Still pretty bare, decor was still missing, as a family we were still hunting for the right things, which made for fun family time on the weekends.

Talking about past and future, we opened a bottle of wine for me, and Jackson preferred his beer. We sat in his brand-new living room, the smell of fresh paint still lingering in the air. The crackling fireplace added a cozy warmth to the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The modern decor and light furniture in natural colors reflected a sound mix of Jackson’s rugged roots and my personal modern taste.

As we reminisced about our journey together, I kept his beer coming until he was noticeably relaxed, if not getting lit. Covertly, I poured out my wine while getting him drunk. Then, I leaned in, my heart racing, as I initiated a kiss. Our conversation grew softer and more intimate as our lips met, again and again, the warmth of the fire matching the heat rising between us. Yes, despite the divorce we had continuously shared intimate moments, sweet, passionate, but this was different. This was fire from the start. Be forewarned, boys and girls, Bri is going in for the ‘kill’ here.

As I was doing all the right things to him which I knew would turn him into putty, I mean, at this point we had been together for a decade, if you count the cat and mouse game as teens even longer, and I couldn’t help but remember the early days, when Jackson was my first love. Well, maybe Brad had been my first crush, but I never felt as strongly about him as I had about Jackson from the get-go, and Jackson had been my first in other aspects, something I never once regretted. The nostalgia added a layer of passion to our embrace.

Things started to heat up to a full fledged wildfire, I mean, I’ll be honest, a professional callgirl would have blushed while taking notes from all the registers I was pulling here.
We started out in the living room but ended up in his bedroom in no time flat, I think he carried me up the stairs, but it’s all a blur at this point, and on his bed we went straight to business.

Twice he reached for protection and both times I took it from him and flung it across the room only to distract him with more interesting things I was doing to him.

Jackson wasn’t stupid, no matter how hard he tried to make you think it. And that man could hold his liquor. We were both hot and bothered, all clothing had been shed, I mean, we were well into it. At some point, when I was just about to seal the deal, go in for the homestretch, he flipped us around and stopped, hovering over me, pinning me down, as he looked at me.

“Bri,” he drawled, sending shivers down my spine. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Umm, what do you mean?” I replied, still out of breath and befuddled by the sudden change of pace, trying to sound innocent, but failing miserably.

“Bri! I know somethin’s up. I wasn’t sure at first, but it felt like ya been tryin’ to get me drunk all night. Just why, and why ya keep tossin’ around them condoms like a bad penny? Are ya tryin’ to get pregnant?” he asked straight out, shocking me. My reaction was so intense, I blushed so deeply, my face was on fire, a neon sign proclaiming my dumb idea couldn’t have been more obvious. And it was obvious, as Jackson’s next words told me.

“Take that as a yes. So, that’s it then, but why? What is goin’ on in that purdy lil head of yers?!” he drawled.

“Umm … well … ah … uh …” I stammered. I had lost the ability to form actual words.

He shook his head, sighed, rolling off me, grabbing his underwear and jeans, making me feel cheap and like an idiot. I told him as much while flinging a pillow at him, which he caught with a laugh, tossing it back playfully.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Ya deserve feelin’ like that. Honestly, Bri, you are somethin’.”

Blushing deeply, I knew he could read me like a book. Now you all know why I can’t just walk away from him. We are a thing, whether anyone wants us to be or not, including ourselves. Serendipity or something. He and I get no say. The end.

“I … well … so … ” I stuttered, feeling ashamed.

His expression softened as he sat down next to me. He reached behind us, wrapping a quilt around me, making me realize I was chilly.

“Okay, look Jackson, I just thought … umm…” well, yeah, what? A big lot of nothing, that’s what Bri I thought to myself. Leave it to Jackson to immediately call me out on it too.

“Trouble with ya is that ya don’t think sometimes. Trouble with me is that you have that same effect on me. Really Bri, I’m thrilled and honored, and I love that you could see yerself havin’ more kids with me. But we need ‘nother baby right now ’bout as much as a hole in our heads. You remember how rough the last pregnancy was. You spent so much time at the hospital. Even if ya did get pregnant again, the risk of loss it much higher now, not to mention things that could happen to you, with ya havin’ even more scar tissue now. We lucked out last time; let’s just not tempt fate. We’re finally gettin’ back to where we need to be. Don’t risk all that now on some crazy lil idea you don’t really mean.”

“You are right. I know you are right. How did you know? I mean, what I was … trying to do?” I deflated, feeling dumb, ashamed, and bare—not just because I was literally naked beneath that quilt.

“Bri, I know how ya are. And I knew something was up when ya kept feedin’ me all that beer like a 50’s housewife, while tryin’ to seduce me like a Thai hooker. That ain’t like ya. You’re a real sweet gal, but that was a little too sweet. We’re not exactly chaste, but we normally never go like all that. I didn’t know what it was about at first, so I went along until it dawned on me. And no, I ain’t mad. I’m flattered that ya could see yerself havin’ another baby with me. But we really can’t handle a baby now. Divorces me, then wants another baby with me, I love ya, but that’s just nuttier than a squirrel turd, Bri,”

He chuckled, making me smile too as I let myself fall against him. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.

“Jackson, please don’t tell anyone.” I looked at him from sad puppy dog eyes, making him chuckle.

“I ain’t. It’s all good, Bri. I always knew I was beyond help. I fell in love with the craziest chick I could find, and even after all she put me through, I’m still madly in love with her.,” he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.

“Oh? Do I know her?” I quipped.

“Go up to any mirror and say hi,” he chuckled.

“Jackson, what are we gonna do? I feel like we’re spinning our tires and obviously, it’s making me crazy.”

“Thinkin’ it’s obvious. You move in here, we’ll go to Vegas and get married again, cos yer daddy has some strong feelin’s about all that, and then we’ll raise the two kids we already got together.” he winked.

“Oh, I’ll just move in and get hitched in a drive-thru. Wow. So romantic. Let’s just not …”

“I ain’t the romantic type, and ya know that. I’m practical. You know I love ya, I want ya, and I want us to be together. Looks to me like so do you. What’s there to be romantic about?”

“Then why haven’t you at least asked me to move in with you yet? And I really thought you would ask me to marry you again.”

“Why would I? You were the one who ran. You left me, high and dry. Just when I needed you the most, cos what happened to Bonnie, didn’t just happen to you, Bri, no matter how much ya liked to blame me. I was in shock too and worried sick, not to mention all the guilt I felt and you pilin’ on didn’t help. You filed for divorce, not me. I wasn’t gonna. I knew ya were gonna come to yer senses and come back home to me. When ya didn’t, I even brought home closer to ya, and still, ya didn’t redo whatcha done gone and undid.”

Shocked at his logic, which was hard to argue with, I just stared at him and he shrugged.

“What? You and yer sister are always all about emancipation and women empowerment, so why would I have to be the one askin’ just because I am the man? You are a grown woman and capable. I’m just being a modern man here. I asked ya all those things, I never changed my mind on anything, you did. So, it should be you fixin’ it.”

Yeah. Argue with THAT now, I dare you. I couldn’t either.

“I … I … umm … yeah, but YOU cheated on me.” was all I could get out, low of me, I know, Jackson cringed, then inhaled deeply, gestured for me to stay put, then walked off. When he came back with a small box, my heart started pounding. He crouched down before me, looked up at me, then handed me the box.

I took it, wondering about the anticlimactic way to propose, but opened it and found …

“A key?!” I exclaimed, expecting a ring. Bewildered, I looked up at him.

With a sly smirk, he raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Key to my heart, darlin’. And to the home. It’s an invitation and insurance, so ya know I never have any women here to do things with I should be doin’, even if officially I am single. You can come and go as you please or bring over yer things and Bonnie’s and just stay. I’ll even help ya with my truck haulin’ it here. But YOU gotta decide. I can’t make ya, I won’t beg ya, but I would love to have ya. We can ask Bonnie, but I betcha I can guess what she would like to do.”

“You just couldn’t bring yourself to ask me to move in with you, share my life with you …” I bemoaned, playing with the key in my hand.

“Why? I never un-invited ya. I don’t have to keep tellin’ ya the sky is blue, and that water is wet, you know it is. Same here. My door has always been open. Well, back home it was. Here, I gotta lock it, cos it’s the big city where most people ain’t honest. But now ya got the key to all I own.”

“What about our status? Don’t you want to be married again? I don’t even know what we are. Are we dating? Are you my boyfriend now? How would I even introduce you to anyone, I can’t say ‘ex-husband’ while holding your hand. Argh, always two steps forward and one back again.”

“I still tell people yer my wife, Bri. That ex part is none of their business, unless it’s for something official. I never wanted to NOT be married in the first place, you did. Darlin’, look, ya know I am simple folk. Way I look at it, we already got married. I stood in front of everyone we both know and a priest and swore to love and cherish ya till death do us part. I never stood nowhere sayin’ the opposite, I only signed some papers and a judge told us now we have to put an ex in front of man and wife. If ya need a ring on yer finger to remember what I said back in that chapel, then put it back on, you got it, not me, unless ya tossed it. I never took mine of, cos nowhere in them dang papers did it say I had to. And if ya give yer ring to me, I’ll get back down on that knee and ask ya again. Romantic enough?” Jackson said, his drawl thick, his tone soft, and his logic typical for him.

“Wow. And yes, of course, I still have the ring. I do wanna be married again. But planning a wedding now, with everything going on with my career, not to mention Jasper and Iris, it would look so … you know … needy. Trashy even as if I am trying to jump the line in front of Iris and Jasper. Oh, man Jackson … Help!” I started getting emotional, tears began to fall when I realized how everything was just so twisted now.

Jackson got up, pulled me up into his arms, then pulled away, his hands on my face as he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

“You are really somethin’, Briar Rose. Alright, if ya really need me to ask, I will. I’ll even tell ya what to do. Move in with me. Our little family has been apart long enough. You don’t like it, I don’t like it, the kids don’t like it. Come home, darlin’. We’ll figure out the rest from there. Deal?”

Homecoming

Bonnie and I moved to Healing Hooves Stables, and I got my horse, Prairie Rose, back, along with my family and my cowboy. Yes, we ride our horses through select areas in San Sequoia, because, you know, therapy horses and all. If you had told me this a year ago…

The kids are back together, which adds some lively mornings with their bickering at the breakfast table. Without my mom and dad here to keep the peace, it’s a bit chaotic. My parents always made it look so easy, but spoiler alert: it’s not! The worst part is, when you reprimand one, the other jumps to their defense. According to my parents, Iris and I were the same way. I plead the fifth. I remember myself as nothing but a perfect angel growing up. The last time I said that at a family dinner, it took everyone 30 minutes to stop laughing. Family… sigh.

When I’m not busy with my career, I help Jackson out where I can. When I have to travel, my family helps with the kids.

Now, you might wonder how we manage my newfound fame with Jackson’s low-key profile. You can bet there isn’t any security detail under Jackson’s watch. The mere thought of installing high-level security features and having Jackson, who is completely computer illiterate, deal with potential malfunctions whenever I’m not there already deterred everyone from trying to convince him. If a surveillance camera malfunctioned, he’d probably just shoot it down.

“I don’t need no electronic nonsense, I can protect my family just fine, thank ya very much!” he would grumble before walking off whenever the matter was brought up.

Fame and Frenzy: Dodging Fan Intrusions

So, you might be wondering if fans, the press, or paparazzi won’t harass us. The short answer is: Yes. Yes, they would—or rather, they tried. Occasionally you can spot them popping up beyond the fence like prairie dogs. We had some cheeky ones show up at the door, and Jackson used his ‘charm’ to make it clear that this is a business. If they want an appointment, they have to make it like everyone else. It’s also a private residence, and, well… let’s just say Jackson’s drawl and unflattering comments probably only half made sense to them but enough for them to leave and not come back.

We had some paparazzi make the mistake of climbing fences to get closer to where I was starting a little vegetable garden with my children, but they didn’t get to do their thing, as they had made the mistake of climbing into the pasture where our stallion ‘Patches’ was trying to nap.

Let me introduce you to Patches. Imagine a stunning horse with a short temper, one that doesn’t like strangers or Jackson’s other stallion, Blaze, unless Jackson is nearby to keep him in check. Patches is an 8-year-old strikingly handsome American Standardbred stallion with a distinctive piebald coat pattern of light and dark brown and white patches, hence the name. He has a muscular build and an elegant stance, truly gorgeous—if it weren’t for that attitude. It’s surprising that he managed to get certified as a therapy horse, but once Jackson has him saddled up and ready, Patches seems to know he’s going to ‘work’ and behaves exemplarily.

He’s still intact for breeding purposes as is Blaze, and neither of them appreciate people intruding in their territory, except for us, of course. Around us, both are as mellow as kittens, both equally territorial, so they are usually kept separate as they will bicker or even fight, and the mares have unpredictable tempers when not bridled and saddled as well. So, no matter which pasture someone might creep through, it wouldn’t end well for them. Talk about low-key security systems—ours run on hay and treats.

In case you don’t know, horses can bite really badly, and their kicks can be dangerous, even deadly. And they are fast. You cannot outrun a horse that truly wants to get you.

Anyway, that one sunny afternoon, the paparazzi, thinking they were slick, decided to hunker down behind some bushes, trying to get the perfect shot of me with my kids.

Patches, not one to miss a chance to assert his authority, suddenly showed up right next to the hunkered-down paparazzi. Imagine the surprise on their faces when they looked up from their cameras and saw a large, angry horse glaring down at them. Patches didn’t give them much time to process the situation. He snorted loudly, pawed at the ground, and before they knew it, he was giving them a run for their money. Literally.

The sight was comical. The paparazzi scrambled to their feet, trying to outrun Patches, who was more than happy to chase them around the pasture, snapping at them like a barnyard dog. Cameras were swinging wildly, hats flying off heads, and one poor soul even lost a shoe in the chaos.

In the end, the paparazzi managed to scramble back over the fence, leaving Patches to trot back to his napping spot, thoroughly satisfied with his work and visibly proud of himself. It was a scene straight out of a comedy, the kids and I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of those city folks being schooled by our grumpy stallion. No worries, the kids and I gathered all the lost belongings and tossed them over the fence while Jackson rode up to them on Blaze with a reminder that this is private property they were trespassing on and if they tried it again, a grumpy horse would be the least of their worries.

When I told my parents, Chase and Hailey, about this, they nearly fell over laughing so hard. You see, my dad’s nickname for my mom has been “Patches” since they first met as teens, as her favorite pair of jeans back then had several patches on them. Now back when Jackson named the horse, he didn’t know about that, and it has led to funny misunderstandings, until everyone got on the same page there. Ever since, my mom had a favorite horse, even though she had no interest in riding.

“Oh, that’s just perfect!” Dad chuckled, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Patches scaring off the paparazzi—it’s like poetry! Just like back when you were our band manager, huh Patches. Hehehehe!”

Mom was still giggling uncontrollably, “I always knew that horse was special. He’s got my spirit! Love it!”

Determined to show her appreciation, Mom grabbed a bunch of apples to feed Patches. I tried to stop her. “Mom, they are not supposed to have so many treats, and he won’t know why you are giving them to him…”

But Mom was already marching towards the pasture. “Oh, Patches is my buddy and he WILL know!” she declared with a grin.

And sure enough, Patches trotted over, happily munching on the apples Mom handed him, while she patted his neck, talking to him as if he understood every word and he nodded as if agreeing with her. It was a sight to behold, and all I could do was shake my head and laugh.

And then some crazed fan started stalking me. At first, it was just weird letters and tasteless comments on my official social media pages, which got mostly ignored and always deleted. Then once he cornered me while grocery shopping alone. I hid in the store restroom and called Jackson, who got there in record time and gave the stalker a piece of his mind and sent him running. From then on, we did our shopping together. I thought it was over until he suddenly stood in front of me in my very own kitchen, I had been carrying in new plants earlier and probably forgotten to secure the gate. I screamed, summoning Jackson, and I will never forget the sound of him cocking his pump-action shotgun.

“I give ya ten full seconds to haul yer hide out that there front door, or y’all’ll be paintin’ that wall behind ya with yerself!” he growled in the deepest tones. The man chose the first option and ran straight into the arms of the police officers about to knock, whom Jackson had called. We didn’t get in trouble; Jackson had permits, and in San Sequoia, it was perfectly legal to shoot someone threatening you inside your home if you had enough proof of the threat, which I could bury them in.

Now, I know you probably don’t know Jackson like I do, so let me tell you, he had no intention to unalive that man. If anything, he would have beaten the snot out of him, but it was kinda funny for me to watch him with that shotgun. Like a live action movie almost. As much as the stalker had scared me, the minute Jackson showed up I felt save again. And no, usually I am against guns, but I am even more against stalkers, and they usually need some very rude awakening to finally snap out of it. Can’t think of any ruder awakening than the one he got.

My travel schedule comes in spurts, so there are months when I’m home continuously, usually working on writing and composing. With all that inspiration, I don’t run out of ideas easily.

Having my family so close proved great for us too. Jackson always used to have the hardest time getting away from the ranch before to go anywhere, now, there is always someone to look in on the horses and take care of the kids, so sometimes, when his schedule is free or when we find out far enough in advance, he books his schedule around mine and then my cowboy travels with me for the briefer engagements, promos, single appearances, interviews, that type of stuff, domestic as well as internationally. So, I get to live my dream of a music career and my cowboy gets to see the world and neither of us have to suffer.

That way we have had couple’s weekends in many cool places, beachtime in Sulani, sightseeing in Windenburg, and a fun long weekend in Tartosa, where we both ate our body weight in artisan pasta and cheese, washed it down with Tartosian wine. Oh, and gelato.

Under the Tartosian Sun

One afternoon, Jackson and I prepared for our stroll through the city center to work up an appetite before dinner. At our rental villa, he handed me a small, wrapped package with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I got you something special for our afternoon out,” he said.

Inside was a stunning, long summer dress with a soft floral pattern. The halter-style neckline and flowing skirt shimmered softly in the sunlight. He must have picked it up while I was busy shooting sequences for a music video of my unreleased single.

Jackson had dressed elegantly himself, choosing a sports coat, white linen shirt with a tie, and light pants, leaving his trusty cowboy hat back at the villa. I must have stared at him with my mouth open because he laughed at my shocked expression. “Everyone’s so dang fancy here at dinner,” he joked, “felt like we needed to step up our game so we can blend in better.” Then, with a grin and his cowboy drawl, he added, “At least visually, ‘cos ya know darlin’, the moment I open my mouth, everyone knows I ain’t from ’round here…”

Wearing the flowy dress, each step felt like a dream. The ever-present sea breeze gently pushed the cool, silky fabric against my skin, creating a soft, caressing sensation. It made me feel as if I were floating through the picturesque streets of Tartosa, each movement filled with effortless elegance. The dress shimmered softly in the sunlight, adding to the ethereal experience.

As we strolled hand in hand, I savored fresh gelato while we window-shopped and took in the beautiful scenery. Jackson spotted a daisy growing by the path, picked it, broke off most of the stem, and slid it into my hair. The cobblestone streets echoed with laughter and chatter from locals and tourists alike. The vibrant colors of the buildings, with their charming balconies and blooming flowers, created a picturesque backdrop. The scent of freshly baked bread and the salty sea breeze filled the air.

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over everything, and the gentle breeze provided a refreshing contrast. We paused occasionally to admire the stunning views of the coastline, where azure waters met rocky cliffs in a breathtaking display of nature’s beauty. It was a perfect blend of work and relaxation—a short vacation that felt like a dream.

“Bri, I had an idea!” Jackson said with unusual excitement, his eyes sparkling.

Licking my gelato, I looked at him. “An idea? Uh oh, did it hurt?” I giggled.

“Not yet, but it’s gonna! You trust me?” he asked, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

“Uh, yeah. Why?” I replied, curiosity piqued.

He led me down some charming side streets, heading toward the coastline.

Eventually, we reached a stunning venue nestled by the azure coast. The path opened up to a beautifully manicured garden with elegant pergolas draped in delicate white fabrics fluttering in the breeze. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the salty tang of the ocean air. Faint sounds of waves crashing against the cliffs and the call of seagulls created an enchanting ambiance.

As we approached, the intricate detailing of the architecture and the soft glow of fairy lights wrapped around the trees made the place feel magical and the scenery looking straight out of an Tartosa Coast postcard.

Stopping in front of a charming building, he grabbed my hand and, to my surprise, pulled off my wedding band set, which I had just started wearing again. He wore his wedding band too, and nowhere in the divorce decree did it say we couldn’t. He slipped the rings into his pocket along with his own, telling me I’d get them back in a little while, as he straightened his sports coat and linen shirt, adjusted his tie and my hair, then pulled me along. With a playful smirk, he grabbed my ice cream cone and dumped it upside down in one of the topiaries outside. With a tender kiss, he took my hand and led me up some stairs, through a heavy, embellished old wooden door, then down a hallway adorned with intricate frescoes and antique decor.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building. The elegance and beauty of the venue made me think it might be a dancehall or a spa. The scene was like a fairy tale come to life, with the azure coast in the background and the sounds and scents of the ocean all around us. By now I was hoping for a spa, seeing us enjoy a couple’s massage right there by the sea. In fact, I was convinced that’s what it was, as I have been trying to get Jackson to join me for a spa visit for months now.

Well, what can I say, I was wrong. Cos when we emerged about an hour later, we were remarried.

Yep, that’s right, we had eloped.
That was Jackson’s big surprise and boy, did he pull it off.

I was surprised, I was happy, I was excited, I was impressed and I couldn’t wait to get our signatures under that document undoing what I had done thinking it was what we needed a little over half a year ago. I had been wrong, a divorce wasn’t what we needed. What Jackson had done, by figuring out how to get our family back together, THAT was what we both needed and wanted.

And we had a destination wedding, in a way. Jackson had planned everything perfectly, right down to the documents he had secretly brought along. The venue had been an enchanting, elegant coastal wedding spot, with a breathtaking view of the azure waters meeting the rocky cliffs. The staff, seeing our excitement, had quickly arranged a simple yet beautiful setup for an intimate ceremony. The golden glow of the afternoon sunbathed the scene in warmth and romance, making it feel like a fairy tale come true.

The dinner we had reservations for had been notified too, and we were served the sweetest miniature wedding cake, handmade for us by the chef. Everyone at the restaurant got a slice in our honor, sharing in our joy.

And we did dance that night. No, Jackson didn’t hire a band, he did something much, much sweeter; he took me down to the beach. As he sang the lines of “Yours” by Russell Dickerson, his voice was a gentle, heartfelt melody, sending shivers down my spine with each note. Jackson’s voice sang about finding love and feeling complete, and as he whispered the heartfelt words near my ear, I felt the warmth of his breath send shivers down my spine. Every note and lyric resonated deeply, making the moment even more enchanting. His breath brushed against my ear, causing delightful, warm puffs that made my skin tingle with every word. Barefoot, we danced among the glowing luminescent algae.

Unable to resist the magic of the moment, I, too, began to sing. As a trained singer, my voice harmonized with his, creating a beautiful blend of our emotions and melodies. We serenaded each other, our voices rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves, the lyrics a testament to our love.

I was a boat stuck in a bottle
That never got the chance to touch the sea
Just forgot on the shelf
No wind in the sails
Goin’ no where with no one but me
I was one in a hundred billion
A burned out star in a galaxy
Just lost in the sky, wonderin’ why
Everyone else shines out but me

But
I came to life when I first kissed you
The best me has his arms around you
You make me better than I was before
Thank God I’m yours

The worst me is just a long gone memory
You put a new heartbeat inside of me
You make me better than I was before
Thank God I’m yours

All alone on the beach in the dark, with only the moonlight and the shimmering algae to light our way, turning everything preternaturally blue, me on my tippytoes, God knows why, as we danced to our own beat. It was as if time stood still, and the world was just the two of us, entwined in a spontaneous, romantic dance. The sand beneath our feet was cool, and the ocean breeze caressed our faces, adding to the ethereal beauty of the night.

And just like that we were husband and wife again. It was memorable, one-of-a-kind, sweet, incredible, spontaneous, romantic, and undeniably special—so very us. And no, nobody in our families was really all that surprised. Happy for us, yes. Surprised, no.

Drama Mama

A few weeks later, it was late June now, I was organizing one of the drawers in our bedroom, when I came across that old photo album that Jackson cherished. It was the single photo album he had left of his parents—his late mother and stepfather—which he treasured deeply. Curious, I opened it, and to my surprise, there was the dried daisy, the same one Jackson had placed in my hair that day in Tartosa, carefully pressed between the pages.

As I touched it, a smile spread across my face. “You can be such a romantic, Mr. Kershaw … you can be so very romantic,” I mumbled to myself, feeling a warm glow in my chest.

Yes, as life goes, at least for my family and me, while still walking on clouds from my discovery, I went downstairs to start dinner. Peeking out the kitchen window I saw Jackson taking care of the horses when my phone rang. In an overly cheerful manner, I answered without even looking at the Caller ID, but the moment I heard my mother’s tense and frantic voice, all my alarms went off at once.

“Bri, something’s happened! It’s Iris! Your daddy and I are on our way to the hospital now. Can you meet us there? Maddie and Colton are on their way too,” she bellowed into the phone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked reflexively, although I really didn’t want to know. Iris never got sick, so this had to be something bad. And it was.

“It’s the baby. Preterm labor,” she explained hurriedly. Clearly aiming her next words at my dad, she continued, “Gump, you need to take a right here. Yes, I know, but this is a shortcut! Just drive, I don’t care how or where, just get us there, STAT! Bri, I gotta go. Wish us luck!” she said before hanging up abruptly.

I stood frozen, feeling as if time had stopped, but it was probably only moments. Jackson rushed in, pulling the pot of boiling water off the stove, cursing softly before realizing something was wrong. He said something to me, but I was in shock until he literally grabbed me and shook me gently, his eyes filled with concern.

“Iris… preterm labor. Jackson, she’s not even in the third trimester yet!” I exclaimed, panic rising in my voice.

Jackson cursed again, then told me to get ready. He’d grab the kids. When he came back with them ready to go, I still hadn’t moved, so he draped a light jacket over my shoulders and walked me out to his truck.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing second filled with dread. The sterile smell of antiseptics hit me as soon as we entered, and the sound of hurried footsteps and beeping monitors created an atmosphere of controlled chaos. The harsh fluorescent lights made everything seem even more intense.

The entire family was already there, anxiously waiting as hours passed with only brief updates from Jasper. He would emerge looking exhausted, his face etched with worry. “Yes, Iris is in labor, way too early, but Connor has joined the OR team and is doing everything he can to keep everyone safe,” he said, his voice strained. Jas, my best friend, hugged me tightly, tears streaming down his face before he hurried back to the restricted access area. My heart ached for him, for my sister, and I desperately wanted my niece to be okay.

The long hours of terror felt endless, but finally, the news came that both mother and baby were fine. Relief washed over us, yet we knew the journey was far from over.

Eventually, a week or so after her birth, two of us at a time were allowed to see Anastasia briefly through the windows of the NICU. Her daddy, Jasper, dressed in sterile clothing from head to toe, with only his deep dark eyes visible behind the mask, held her up near the window for us. He looked worried, mortified, but also proud and full of love.

She was tiny, even smaller than my twins had been when they arrived prematurely. No one felt comfortable making any predictions. Despite the uncertainty, I forced a smile and gave a thumbs up to Jas. “Love you, brother from another mother,” I mouthed. With a somber smile, he mouthed back, “Love ya back, sister from another mister.” It was a silly childhood thing we had always maintained, but it was our way of staying connected. Jasper had been mine and Iris’s first and best friend throughout our lives. My sister had just had this tiny baby with her best friend—and mine. This moment was intensely special to all of us.

I vividly remember seeing my niece being fed for the first time up close in the NICU, watching her momma feed her breast milk through a feeding tube while she lay in the incubator. The sight of my sister caring for her fragile baby filled me with a profound sense of love and hope.

I still couldn’t believe how tiny she was. Jackson was next to me, holding my hand. He leaned in, pretending to kiss my cheek while whispering in my ear, “Aren’t ya glad ya didn’t get yer plan to work?” referring to my impulsive baby-making idea a couple of months ago, which he had thwarted. I felt hot and cold all at once. This could have been us. Iris was more than healthy, as was Jas—the pregnancy had been picture-perfect, and yet, this happened. I already knew I would face issues if I even managed to get pregnant, and my last pregnancy had been traumatizing for both Jackson and me.

I collapsed against Jackson, tears streaming down my face. I cried for my poor sister and Jas, who had to endure this ordeal, and for the bullet I had dodged by Jackson stopping my reckless plan. We had just found our way back to each other, and I had nearly risked it all. I wasn’t sure our marriage, our love, could withstand another high-risk pregnancy and birth. Not to mention my budding career—I was still too new to disappear for a year and expect to be remembered when I returned. That’s not how showbiz works.

The weeks that followed were filled with uncertainty and hope. Just as Iris and Jas, who had literally practically lived at the hospital for over two months now, unless Connor or my parents dragged one or both of them off for some actual sleep in a real bed for a night, were about to take Anastasia home, her red blood cell count dropped: anemia.
She had to stay longer and receive iron supplements through her breastmilk bottles. Just when Iris had started breastfeeding.

When it finally turned September, baby Anastasia was finally released with a clean bill of health, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. And guess what? Turns out my sister DOES like babies after all. At least one of them.

Forever After

I reflect on all this while sitting in a bridal shop, watching my sister try on one dreamy gown after another. Groom-to-be Jasper’s mom Maddie is effusive in her praise, exclaiming how amazing Iris looks in a figure-skimming mermaid gown. Iris, looking at our mother Hailey and me, responds confidently, “I told you I would have my figure back in no time.”

She was right. Since she never got too big, her belly returned to normal before they were even out of the woods with the baby. By the time she was home, she fit into all her clothing again.

As I sat in the bridal shop, watching my sister try on one dreamy gown after another, I couldn’t help but think about my own journey. While I never had a big wedding—not the first time, and not the most recent one either—sometimes I do dream about what it would have been like to have such a grand production. But if I’m truly honest, I have no regrets.

I didn’t fall in love with the kind of guy who would be comfortable with all that glitz and glamor. It wasn’t just my wedding; it was his too. And at the end of the day, the wedding is just a single day in a whole lifetime with the person you love. After all that Jackson and I went through, we still chose each other. We moved heaven and earth to make it work. No fancy luxury destination wedding could ever outdo the contentment and relief of knowing that we both fought, sacrificed, and prevailed in the end.

Our love story wasn’t about the perfect wedding day; it was about the imperfect, messy, beautiful journey we shared. It was about the nights we stayed up talking, the days we spent working together, and the moments we held each other through the hardest times. It was about finding our way back to each other, time and time again, despite the odds.

Iris’ words jolted me back from my mental ramblings “Bri! Hello? What say you? Yay or nay?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely yes. You look beautiful, Iris. Like a queen,” I said, Maddie and our Mom applauded, and my sister-in-law Keira nudged me, winking. Evidently the ‘verdict’ was unanimous.

After a day filled with laughter and excitement, I returned home from the bridal shop, feeling a sense of contentment. As I walked through the house, I spotted Jackson out back, working with the horses. The sight of him, so immersed in his element, brought a smile to my face.

I stepped outside, the cool evening breeze ruffling my hair, and made my way to the fence where Jackson stood. He looked up and, seeing me, walked over with that familiar twinkle in his eye. As he reached me, he leaned across the fence and kissed me gently. His lips and face radiated warmth against the cool breeze.

Just then, the kids came running out, their laughter filling the air. Jackson called out to them, “Hey hey hey, now there, not so fast. Where do y’all think you’re going? It’s getting dark.”

“Swinging! The swing has pretty lights, Daddy!” Bonnie responded, pointing.

“Are you both done with your homework?” Jackson asked as they ran to the swingset. Both replied with a resounding “Yes, Daddy!” but Jackson called out again.

“Beau Wyatt Kershaw, hold up there a sec, young man.” The child stopped in his tracks, and Jackson asked again, “Are you REALLY done with ALL your homework, Mister?”

“Yes, Sir!” Beau replied. Bonnie, already swinging, chimed in, “He really is, Daddy. I watched.”

I closed my eyes, leaning against Jackson, feeling the comforting resonance of his voice in his chest as he spoke again, a sensation I enjoyed.

“Fine, good job, kiddos. Beau, proud of ya, son, startin’ to behave like a big boy. Go on then,” Jackson said, smiling as he stepped out through the gate, closing it behind him with a clank. He wrapped me into a hug, his body warmth enveloping me.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I whispered, looking up at him.

He responded with a tender kiss on the top of my head, holding me just a little bit tighter as we watched the kids compete to see who could swing higher.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text. It was a photo from my sister, sent to the entire family, showing Jasper totally wiped out asleep, mouth open, drooling on the couch with baby Anastasia fast asleep on his chest, who was creating her own sleep-drool stain on his shirt. I could almost hear them both snoring. The caption read: “My gross fiancé and our drooly princess, aka daddy daycare: hard at work or hardly working? What do you all think, should I submit this to GQ Magazine for their next cover since Jasper was nominated for the Sexiest Man of the Year award? I mean, what could be sexier than THAT, amirite?” It made Jackson and me laugh out loud.

Especially when a response from a recently awoken Jasper came in, clapping back at Iris after probably having gotten stirred by the constant buzzing of his phone with everyone getting their two cents in.

“Alright, I see how it is, using my beauty sleep moment against me! 😂 Just remember, I’ve got that epic Nutella raid photo of you, Iris babe—can’t wait to share. Guys, picture this: Her face covered, hair full of chocolate spread, looking like a Nutella addict gone off the cliff! Go ahead and go public with mine, babe, I triple dog dare you, and I can’t wait for your law firm’s clients looking at you with your Nutella face “war” paint. #EqualOpportunistJoker #DaddyDayCareGoals #RevengeWouldBeSweet”

In that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together. Because our love was more than just a story—it was a testament to our strength, our resilience, and our unwavering commitment to each other. And that, more than anything, was worth celebrating.
We’re happy. Every single one of us.
Life still throws us curveballs, we still sometimes bicker, even argue, and we disagree. But we really all finally found our way.

The end.
(…of the story, but for us, it was only the beginning of a beautiful journey.)