Misha’s got the tent half-up and is filming us on his phone like a proud dad. Oliver’s sitting on a log, watching us as well.
Amelia twists just enough to look up at me, eyes soft and shining, full of admiration. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“I love you,” she whispers, and kisses me slow and sweet, tasting like Twizzlers and attitude.
When she breaks the kiss and turns to the keyboard again, I tighten my arms around her once more, rest my chin on her shoulder, and let her play whatever she wants while the sun dips lower toward the horizon.
My legs still ache, my shirt’s still soaked, and I’d rather be literally anywhere with air-conditioning. But at this moment, with her in my lap and our family laughing around us and the whole world quiet except for the music she’s making?
I wouldn’t trade this for every five-star restaurant on the planet.
The sky spills gold across the valley, light pooling over the trees until everything looks almost surreal.
Amelia’s head is a warm weight in my lap, her hair free from the ponytail and now spilling over my thighs. I’ve been reading Twilight aloud for the last twenty minutes, my voice low enough only she can hear Edward’s brooding over the crackle of the fire Misha and Grey are coaxing to life. Every few lines, she sighs, content little puffs of air that tickle my skin through my jeans, and I swear I can feel her mouthing the words along with me. She knows this book better than I do, even though I’ve read it to her three times before. And I’d read it again just because she asked.
My fingers keep stroking through her hair as I subconsciously count the freckles on her face. Thirty-six on her nose alone. Perfect square. My favorite number.
When I finish the chapter, I close the book gently. “It’s getting chilly. Want a blanket? Or my jacket for the sunset?”
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she sits up, twists, and climbs straight into my lap. I unzip my jacket without thinking, wrapping it and my arms around her. She instantly tucks her face into my neck like she can’t get close enough, her nose cold against my skin.
“I have everything I need right here,” she murmurs into my chest.
Misha drops down on my left, bringing the smell of pine smoke with him. Grey settles on my other side and passes me a perfectly toasted s’more. I take a bite, feeling the chocolate smear the corner of my mouth, then hold the rest to Amelia’s lips. She bites it delicately, tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of marshmallow, and Grey grumbles.
“I brought her one too, you know.”
Amelia laughs and leans over me to let Grey feed her his s’more. Misha’s hand lands on my thigh, and when I glance down, I see his fingers laced through Amelia’s, almost hidden in the folds of my jacket.
The sun sinks lower, painting everything in pinks and oranges. Misha tips his head back and belts out, “Ba doo doo ba!” loud enough to startle a bird out of a nearby pine.
Grey groans. “For the love of?—”
Amelia throws her head back and yells it just as loud right into my face, off-key, and perfect. I don’t make a sound, just mouth the words with them, because yeah, I’m grateful to be alive too.
When the last sliver of sun slips behind the ridge, Grey stands, brushing pine needles off his track pants. “Come on. Fire’s warm, food’s ready.”
Amelia tries to scramble up, but I tighten my arms. “Nope.” I stand, lifting her with me, and carry her the ten steps to the fire ring. I sink onto a log, settling her sideways across my lap, jacket still cocooned around us both.
She snuggles closer. “Best birthday ever.”
We all smile like idiots.
I’m debating whether to fish the letter out of my inside pocket, the birthday one I wrote in the middle of the night one day last week, when Misha stretches and says, “Your present is waiting at home tomorrow. It was too big to bring up here.”
Another piano, so Grey and her can truly play together.
Amelia perks up. “Is it a dog?”
Misha, Grey, and I exchange a lightning-fast look. Doctor and Peanut are currently at the house with Grandpa and Morgan, but the question hangs in the air.
“No.” Grey recovers first. “But we can hit the shelter tomorrow if you want another puppy.”
Amelia’s eyes go comically wide. “I was kidding!” She laughs, burying her face in my chest to hide the blush. “It was a joke.”
Grey looks at Misha, then Misha looks at me. I nod once.
