The porch goes quiet as the others gather, waving at Mom and then peering over my shoulder.
Harrison's the first one to clap and cheer. He's been my partner in crime on this journey towards authordom, providing the best suggestions and finding all my naughty typos. The rest follow, scaring Beau into a frenzy.
Brody's voice rumbles low. “Guessing that one's based on me?”
I look up, arching an eyebrow. “Wouldn't you like to know”?
He gives me a look, half teasing, half something else, and mutters, “I'm better looking.”
“Considering I'm the one who drew it, I think it's more likely to be me!” McCartney says, reaching out to take a copy that he studies, smiling softly before he opens the cover to find his credit as an illustrator. I couldn't be prouder that he's finally getting the recognition he deserves, both for his work on my book and the launch campaign that will start soon, as well as for his country-style art, which he's now selling in original and print form from a website I helped him establish. He's even taking the occasional portrait commission after I convinced him to add the option, and the drawings he creates of children are my favorites.
I run my fingers over the cover, barely able to believe it's real. Words I thought I'd never write. A dream I thought I'd buried under deadlines and city noise. My heart engraved into three hundred pages.
Now it's here. Held in my hands. Surrounded by everything I never dared imagine I could have.
My heart is so full.
But it isn't the book that makes it beat like this.
It's the family around me and the future I never saw coming.
“Not to minimize this amazing achievement in any way,”Corbin says, approaching to put his arm around my shoulder, “but dinner's ready.”
I kiss his warm cheek and whisper in his ear, “Did I ever tell you I find your culinary skills extremely, unbelievably sexy?”
His already warm cheek heats to a pink, and he slaps my ass playfully, thankfully out of sight from a Mom, who's already making her way inside on Levi's arm.
***
Later, I'm at the kitchen sink, elbow-deep in soapy water, when Corbin leans against the counter and says, “Mark's coming for lunch tomorrow.”
I glance over my shoulder, my heart skipping like it always does when his name comes up. The kitchen incident and his anger have been difficult for me to forget, but I'm thankful that he's listened to Conway and is putting aside his judgments so he can be part of Caleb, Hannah, and Matty's lives.
“Just him?” I ask.
Corbin nods. “Said Jess has a school thing. He's bringing lemon pie. His recipe this time.”
That makes me smile. “God help us.”
I'm mostly grateful that Corbin isn't holding his breath anymore, and the worry about Mark is in the past.
“I'm glad,” I say, drying my hands. “About him coming. About all of it.”
Corbin watches me for a moment, a stillness in his expression. “Are you worried?”
“No,” I say. “I used to be, but after his last visit, he seemed to get used to me. Now it feels like an extension of this messy, complicated life that somehow feels simple.”
Corbin pulls me in by the waist and presses a kiss to my temple, whispering, “You gonna spill your secret tonight?”
I jerk my head back, but then smile at his cheeky grin, which lights up his face and crinkles his eyes.
“I think I might. After all, I have all the people I love most in the world around me.”
He squeezes my hand. “Then I'll wait to tell you how happy I am.”
I touch his cheek and then drift to the table to help Mom seat all the kids, ready for the hearty stew that Corbin and Dylan have prepared.
Dylan wipes his hands on a towel, nods at Corbin, and then sets down a steaming pot in the center, still bubbling like a cauldron.
