“I know,” I say, smiling through the tears I can’t stop. “I just love you a lot, that’s all.”
Her little face softens. “I love you too, Mommy.”
Behind us, Cam’s quiet. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s leaning against the doorframe, smiling faintly at us. It’s the kind of look that makes my chest ache in the best way.
Mom wipes at her eyes. “All right, this is enough to make me cry,” she says, ushering us toward the kitchen. “I made lemonade. You two look like you could use a drink.”
We sit at the table—the same one I grew up at—Evie swinging her legs, chattering about the cookies she and Grandma baked, while Mom presses her hand over mine.
“I’m proud of you,” she says softly, voice catching. “You did right by that little girl.”
I swallow hard, squeezing her fingers. “Couldn’t have done it without all of you.”
Cam’s gaze meets mine from across the table. “Especially one nosy woman in a blazer,” he adds, and we all laugh.
Evie looks between us, confused but smiling. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” I tell her, brushing her curls back. “Just Mommy being happy.”
The night air is soft and sweet, the kind that smells faintly of cut grass and honeysuckle. Crickets chirp from the field behind the house, and the only light comes from the string bulbs Cam hung along the porch rail last week. They cast a golden glow over everything—his tanned forearm resting along the back of my chair, the condensation on our champagne glasses, the easy smile he’s been wearing all night.
Evie’s asleep. The house is quiet, and it finally feels safe to exhale.
Cam glances over at me. “We should have a second wedding here, in the backyard.”
The thought runs through my mind, chairs, an arch, lights, some tables. “I think that would be amazing.”
He nods, looking up at the night sky. “I want you to have the wedding you always wanted, so don’t be afraid to tell me no.”
I smile. “I think it would be really nice, though. All our friends and family, something small and fun.”
Cam leans forward, his elbows on his knees, staring out into the dark yard. “You know,” he says slowly, “we never really talked about whether or not you want more kids.”
I blink, caught off guard. “That’s…random.”
He shrugs, looking almost shy, which is rare for him. “Evie’s the best little girl I’ve ever met. Smart, kind, has a better throwing arm than half my T-ball team. You make awesome kids, Katie.”
My heart flips. “Are you saying that to get on my good side?”
He grins. “I’m saying that because I wouldn’t mind seeing her as a big sister someday. She’d be a damn good one.”
It’s quiet for a moment except for the sound of the crickets and the clink of my glass when I set it down. “Well,” I say, trying to play it cool even though my pulse is doing cartwheels, “I’d be open to that.”
His eyes find mine, a spark lighting behind them. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
He reaches for me, his hand warm against the back of my neck as he pulls me into his lap. I melt against him, laughter spilling out when he presses a kiss to my collarbone.
“How soon are we talking?” he says against my skin.
I thread my fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. “Whenever you’re ready.”
That grin of his breaks wide and boyish, the very one that makes me forget how to breathe. In one smooth motion, he stands, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me inside to the kitchen.
He pauses by the counter, setting me down just long enough to dig into my purse. When he pulls out the little pack of pills, I can’t help but laugh—and be a little turned on.
He presses his foot on the trash can pedal. The lid pops open with a quiet click.
