“Good morning, Quinn,” he said. “Were you well behaved for everyone while your father and I were in the city?”
“I think so?” Quinn said. Cassian crooked an eyebrow. “I mean, yes. Yes, sir.”
Cassian’s mouth curled into a little smile for a fraction of a second before he seemed to force it away. Fondness swirled inJames’s chest, and he had to press his lips together to keep himself from smiling too much.
“Did you help Uncle James choose a flower for the book this year?” he asked, and Quinn nodded. “But I see four of them. Why are there so many?”
“I, uhm, I couldn’t choose,” the boy said, somewhat sheepishly, lowering his head. “Can’t I put in both?”
Cassian hummed, and Quinn perked up a little, looking hopeful.
“I think you should choose your favorite,” Cassian finally said. Quinn’s shoulders slumped, and he frowned at the walkway. Cassian lifted the boy’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You willnotchoose incorrectly, Quinny. Have some confidence in yourself. You are a Livingston.” Cassian paused and looked over to catch James’s eye. James knew what he wanted straightaway and held out the flowers as Cassian released Quinn’s face. “I want you to pick your favorite one for my friend Mr. Jacob Calbot. And then I want you to bring the other one to your mother. You can tell her that Uncle James means to say that he’s sorry for his big mouth.”
Quinn reeled back and looked up at James.
“But Uncle James can’t change his mouth. And it really isn’t that big, is it?”
James tried to stifle a laugh and let out a snort instead. Cassian had to purse his lips, too, for a moment, to contain his laughter.
“Your mother will know what I mean,” Cassian said.
Quinn began to poke at his own mouth.
“Will mine be too big as well someday?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with worry.
“Quinny,” Cassian said curtly. “Confidence, please.”
“Does that mean that my mouthwon’t—”
“No. Your mouth is fine. And it willcontinueto be fine,” Cassian said with a bemused look. He pointed to the flowers. “Choose.”
After a few seconds of deliberation, Quinn pointed to one of the two yellow tulips.
“Mmm... that one can go in the book, I think,” he said hesitantly.
“Good boy,” Cassian said. Quinn plucked the other flower out of James’s hand. And Cassian motioned into the house. “Run along.”
He went off into the house. Letting out a groan mixed with a laugh, Cassian pushed himself to stand. James began to laugh, too.
“Oh, poor Quinn,” James said. “Indecisive to his core.”
“He’s a lot like John, isn’t he?” Cassian mused. “Gentle and softspoken. Just a smidge of a worrier as well.”
James smiled warmly. “He is.”
“He’s like you, too, in that way.”
“Yes, too bad he’s named after you, though,” James said. “YouandJohn, I mean.”
“Meanwhile, Ethel and John chose Thomas’s name to honor you, and—”
“—and here he comes outalmostas demanding as you,” James finished.
“James, please,” Cassian said with a light scoff. “I’m not more demanding than a three-year-old.”
“Aren’t you, though?” James asked, crooking a teasing eyebrow.
Abruptly, Cassian took hold of James’s shirt and yanked him close.
