“Do I smell brisket corn chowder?” Brooke squealed as she struggled to get up from the recliner she was parked in. “If I weren’t already married, I’d kiss you on the mouth.” Julian laughed and gave a salute as he slipped out the door. “What are you gonna do if the craving passes when the baby’s born?” I asked. Brooke shrugged and tore into the soup container. “That will be future Brooke’s problem. I’m sure you’ll dream up something for the restaurant that will make the postpartum phase suck a little less.” “You know where to find me when you want food.”
