I giggle, grab onto my boyfriend’s ball cap, then all the air whooshes from my lungs as my eyes land on Tate.
Tall.
Dark curly hair down to her waist.
Curvy.
Nearly black eyes.
Fair complexion, pert nose, freckles, and a scar.
And an adorable, fair skinned, dark haired little boy, no more than four or five years old sitting on her hip hugging my sister’s neck tight.
She has a son.
Tate is here, in the flesh, walking toward us and she has ason.
And one hell of a shiner on her right eye.
Trying not to make more of a scene because let’s face it, walking into Denver International with three men around six and a half feet tall wearing leather jackets flying Wulven Kings colors is a pretty big scene already. Doesn’t help that I’m sitting on my boyfriend’s shoulder flapping my arms so hard I might take flight myself.
“Tate!” I shout then wince because I probably shouldn’t do that either, but her eyes swing to mine and oh my god, she still has one dimple when she smiles. “Down please. Down!”
Zak carefully slides me down the front of his body and I take off, spin back around and throw myself at him and kiss him as hard as I can. “I fucking love you.” Then I’m sprinting toward my sister, my man chuckling behind me.
“Dori?” She smiles and breaks into a jog. “Oh my god,Dori.”
Seconds before I can slam into her, hug her for the first time since I was thirteen, I trip over my feet, lose my balance and go down to the floor with a thud.
“Oh, Dori!” Tate drops to her knees as I push up on mine and that’s all it takes. I wrap my arms around her in a bone-bending hug and start bawling when she squeezes me just as hard. “D-d-dori,” she sobs, or maybe it’s just me. Hell, I guess we both are.
“I know, Tater.” Oh good, snot bubbles too. Zak is going to love that; he’ll definitely want to jump my bones tonight.
“Mommy?”
We break apart at the small voice, theworriedvoice, and I quickly wipe my eyes and try to smile.
God, he looks just like Tate.
If Tate had light blue eyes.
“Mommy, why is you crying?”
She smiles at him and pushes back his shaggy dark hair. “These are happy tears, baby. You remember what I told you when we left?”
He thinks for a minute then nods. “We was gonna go somewhere far away and be happy.”
“Exactly.” Tate leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. “We are going to be far away and so happy.”
“With Auntie Dori.”
Oh, be still my ovaries.
Auntie Dori.
Gah.
“Right, bud. With Auntie Dori.” Then Tate turns to me, grabs my hand and holds tight. “Auntie Dori, I’d like you to meet your nephew, James.”
