“Yep. Turns out they were just there to interview Jazzy while she showed them the new location of the bar they’re opening there.” I shrugged. “But it was a fun little outing.”
“A fun outing?” Lulu snipped. “Eloise got carsick, and she dry-heaved the whole way home. Henley was a total backseat driver the entire time I was driving. Emilia was a nervous wreck about her parents seeing us, and Wren got fourteen thousand phone calls from her coach and her father about her training. And we hit a dead end on our investigation about who writes the freaking article, so we have nothing to show but a bunch of scratches on our legs.”
“Ummm… you were trying to turn right on a red, even though the sign clearly stated that there are no right turns on red,” Henley said, laughing loudly. “I was just trying to keep you from ending up in the slammer.”
“I believe I was carsick from all the swerving,” Eloise said. “You tend to talk with your hands, even when you’re driving.”
“It’s a gift.” Lulu shrugged.
“And once you know my mother better, you’ll understand why I was very nervous about her catching us,” Emilia said.
“Yet you broke into her place of work?” Easton gaped at her.
“That was after way too much tequila.” She shrugged. “It’s called liquid courage.”
“What was it your coach and your father were calling about?” Isabelle asked. “Is everything okay with your training?”
“I’m all registered for the Hampton Classic, so they’re just making sure my training’s on track. Well, at least Coach Sharky is. My father is very concerned about Wrax and if he’s up for it.”
“Is he up for it?” Bridger asked as he forked some mashed potatoes and popped them in his mouth.
“He’s as up for it as I am.” I shrugged, because that was the truth. Wrax and I had been at this for years, and we were both a little tired.
But being here in Rosewood River had been so much better for my training. Mentally and physically.
Maybe it was Axel.
Maybe it was the mountains and the river and the open space.
I felt like I could breathe again.
“I want to see my horse girl at her big game,” Melody said, and my heart squeezed.
“Me too. But I’m still bummed that you’re missing the wedding,” Henley said.
“Me too,” I said.
I meant it. I’d missed so many important events over the years due to training and traveling. This sport was all-consuming, so stepping away and taking a break had been a very eye-opening experience.
“And I’m the flower girl at the wedding,” Melody said as a wide grin spread across her face.
“I know. I can’t wait to see the pictures.”
“I can’t wait for everyone to stop coming to measure the same spaces over and over in the backyard,” Bridger said with a look at Easton.
Easton and Henley were getting married on Bridger’s property because he had a lot of land and views of the river from every single angle. His home was beautiful, as Emilia had done the magazine-worthy interior as her first big design project. In fact, the house had been featured in several design magazines since she’d done the renovation.
“I’m sorry, you big grump,” Easton said. “Our wedding planner is very specific about measurements.”
The rest of the conversation was all about the upcoming pickleball championship. I’d been playing with Axel and had quickly fallen in love with the sport. But the Chadwicks clearly took their pickleball game seriously.
“But the bigger news is what else is happening soon,” Axel said, turning his attention to his niece. “A little bird told me that it’s Family Day at summer camp.”
“What little birdy told you that, Uncle A? Because that’s a true story, right, Daddy? It’s a special day at camp, and then I’m going to big girl school after summertime.”
“Yes, you are. My baby is growing up,” Archer said as he looked at his daughter with adoration.
I realized in that moment that my father had never looked at me with that kind of genuine affection. It was always more about pride or disappointment. I’d spent my entire life chasing his approval. I’d had mostly highs, but the lows were very low. Because on top of dealing with my own disappointment whenever I didn’t do well, I carried the weight of his disappointment.
