“I’m not picking sides, you know that, but just trust him, yeah? As your best guy friend, I can promise you it’s worth it.”
“I know he is,” I say. “I just… I didn’t realize he was talking to you about how to talk to me.”
“It’s getting annoying,” Julian grumbles. “Lana this, Lana that—I love her so much. He doesn’t shut the fuck up.”
I laugh. “Thank you, Jules.”
He shrugs and I lean my head on his shoulder. “For being there for him. And for me.”
“Anytime,” he says. “But don’t let him off too easily yet.”
I huff. “I know.”
“And I’m not letting you off too easily either. I haven’t seen you at the gym all summer.”
I grimace. “Yeah, about that?—”
“Daddy! Daddy!” Gracie comes running toward the picnic table with a bottle of water in her hand. “I got water.”
Julian helps her open the bottle and drink from it while Christian sets down the tray with our food. “What are you two doing here?”
Julian pulls Grace onto his lap just as Christian slides a small basket of chicken fingers in front of his niece. “Gracie, did you ask Uncle Christian for food?”
She smiles and shakes her head.
Christian chuckles. “She said she’s hungry, it’s fine.”
“Did you say thank you?” Julian scolds Grace, who is still unfazed and smiling.
“Thank you, Uncle Christian.”
“You’re welcome, princess.”
My heart melts,again.Ovaries? Obliterated. I imagine he’d call our babies princess too.
“I thought it was time to bring Grace to her first Willow Springs carnival,” Julian answers while breaking apart pieces of chicken tenders. “We went on the kiddy rides, got her to sit on a pony.”
“His name was Jeff,” Grace says, ketchup smeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Andhis name was Jeff,” Julian echoes.
Beneath the table, Christian’s hand wraps around my knee.I look at him and he meets my eyes with a smirk before he whispers, “We’ll bring our kids to ride Jeff.”
I giggle, grateful that Julian and Grace are preoccupied with chicken tenders and fries. I reach over my hotdog to whisper in Christian’s ear, “Later, I’ll ride you.”
A deep rumbling comes from his chest as I sit back down and drizzle ketchup on my hotdog.
“I don’t think I can take it anymore,” Christian groans, leaning against the back of the donut truck.
I laugh. “What happened to you? We used to go on all these rides,multiple times.”
Somehow, he turns green and I hear a quiet gag. He begins to shake his head, emphasizing the end of our night at the carnival. “Nope—Nope, we’re done for the night.”
“Party pooper.” I pout. “Come, sit. I’ll get us some water.”
I grab onto his arm and bring him with me to one of the empty picnic tables. He plops down, hugging our stuffed llama, his other hand cradling his stomach. “I’ll be right back. Try not to throw up on anyone.”
“Wait. Here.” Groaning, he reaches in his pocket.
