“Of course.”
We pull up by the ride, and he releases my hand, sliding his into the pocket of his black jeans.
“Can you take some photos and videos for me?” He hands me his cell and drops his attention to Blake. “I realized when I was scrolling through my phone this morning that I don’t have any good photos with her, and I need to change that, stat.”
An answer sticks in my throat, so instead, I just nod.
He thumbs over his shoulder, animated in a way I haven’t seen Emmett before. He looks genuinely happy in this moment, despite the shitshow we’ve both endured. He’s contagious in all the best ways, pulling my daughter’s first giggle from her tiny body.
He’s already halfway to the carousel when he turns on his heel. “Are you going to ride with us?”
I consider it for a second before shaking my head. “No. I’ll be able to get better shots from here.”
And as Emmett straddles a horse way too small for his huge frame, holding the leather reins between Blake’s tiny fingers, I snap away on his phone, trying hard to capture the best images I can through blurry eyes.
It’sthe picnic of dreams, all laid out on a huge plaid blanket.
“Wait,” I say, picking up a container and pulling off the lid. “You packed pineapple pizza slices?”
Emmett grins at me like he has done all day. Blake is buried beneath a fluffy brown onesie and nestled between his parted thighs. She hasn’t taken her eyes off the ocean since we arrived on the beach.
“I woke early and made it. Figured you’d never forgive me if I showed up with a picnic basket, minus the pizza.”
Dipping my hand into the basket, I pull out a final container. “Cheese?”
Emmett points to a box on the opposite side of the blanket. “No picnic is complete without cheese and crackers.”
I bite down on my bottom lip to prevent it from shaking. “I think you just aged another decade.”
He deadpans at me, reaching across and taking the cheese from my grasp. Popping the lid, he talks me through every kind he’s wrapped individually before I switch off completely and just go ahead without him, loading up my plate with sandwiches, chips, and dessert.
He quirks a brow at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head at my lunch. “Did youthink Blake would steal your brownie if you didn’t claim it right away?”
“Hey, I’m really sorry to ask, but could I get a photo with you?” A middle-aged guy wearing a Blades cap approaches Emmett from behind, pulling out his phone and handing it to a friend. “It’s just … I’m a really big fan, and I’d have kicked myself all year if I didn’t ask.”
When Emmett looks across at me, his eyes are seeking permission, but I’m already holding my arms out to take Blake.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I do this?” he asks, standing and lowering her into my arms.
I know that I look confused. Surely, photos with fans are an everyday occurrence. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He hesitates for a beat, looking like he wants to say something, but then he leans down and sets a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes and a sandwich later, Emmett takes a seat beside me and Blake on the blanket, all of us now facing the ocean.
Forearms balanced on drawn-up knees, he wears a thoughtful look.
“I think it’s time for me to reach out to Beau again.”
Emmett hasn’t mentioned his estranged younger brother to me since before I left for college. Sometimes, he came up in conversation around the dinner table when Mom asked after him during the holidays, although I never actually met a single member of Emmett’s biological family.
Holding Blake in one arm, I balance the plate in my lap and take a bite of his delicious homemade pizza. One of the best I’ve ever had.
“What happened with Beau? If you don’t mind me asking.”
