“You’re on,” I nod. “The loser has to sit through Pop talking about stocks.”
My daughter runs her little hands over her face in exasperation. “Anything but that!”
“Then don’t lose,” I snark.
Melody pinches the bridge of her nose as she tries to hide her amusement by keeping her head tucked. Her shoulders shake as we near the gates of our parents’ home.
I pull up the driveway, barely cutting the engine before Mom flies out of the house with a wide smile. Dad stands on the porch, waving a hand at us as he grins.
“Gigi!” Posey shouts as she tosses the back door open and launches herself at her grandmother.
“Pocket full of Poseys!” Mom exclaims, squishing her cheek to our daughters in a warm embrace.
“The holy terror is still sleeping,” Melody whispers fondly as she brushes Oliver’s thick dark hair away from his forehead.
I take her other hand in mine, lifting her knuckles to my lips. “I’ll handle him. Go say hi.”
She smiles, hearts in her eyes, before she leans across the center console and kisses me deeply. My brows rise in surprise at her vigor, and I almost forget where we are.
Until she pulls back, pats my cheek, and ducks out of the passenger seat. I’m left blinking at the spot where my wife resided before my head whips around to her. Luscious curves hugged by a white sundress, hips that have widened to birth our beautiful babies, and an ass you could bounce a fucking coin off taunt me from afar. Melody throws a conniving wink over her shoulder, and I know the second I can get her alone, she’s going to be begging for air.
Is it possible to fall even more in love with every year? She’s given me so much to fight for, to cherish, and to appreciate.
And she’s at the center of it all.
I gingerly shift around to the back door of the truck, opening it as I hold my breath. The moment the sunlight hits my son’s eyes, he’s alert like a god damned sleeper agent.
“Hey, bud,” I say softly, trying to hide my utter horror at waking the beast. This could go one of two ways.
His eyes snap open. Not gradually. Not the normal “confused toddler reboot.”
No.
This is instant consciousness. Like someone in a control room just slammed a big red ACTIVATE CHILD button. For a moment, he just stares at me with wide hazel eyes. I don’t even breathe as I reach for his car seat straps.
“Hi, daddy,” he whispers.
This…is suspicious.
Kids don’t wake up calm unless they’re about to throw up, cry, or, in Oliver’s case, most likely confess to a felony.
“Did you have a good nap?” I ask softly as I take great care not to jostle him too much as I remove his little arms from the car seat’s confines.
He blinks. Then smiles before his head rushes forward and smashes me right in the nose. Pain lances across my bridge as my eyes water and my son giggles.
Yup. He’s definitely all me.
“Come on, tiny terror,” I chuckle past the pain as I lift him and set him down on the driveway.
He takes off in a dead sprint toward Dad, his head tucked as my father holds a hand out to stop Oliver’s advances.
“Nice try, my boy!” Dad rumbles loudly before picking the two-year-old up and spinning him until he’s dizzy and laughing so hard his face is turning red. His eyes shine with pride and love as he waves Posey over to squish her into a tight hug, too.
“I need help rolling meatballs!” Mom announces before she kisses Melody’s cheek.
Posey draws back from her Pop, waving a hand excitedly. “Oh! I want to roll meatballs!”
“Horsey!” Oliver shouts, kicking his dangling legs.
