“Logan, knock it off. They’re only five.”
Now, his wife, I liked. Her mother and Louis moved out of town last year for a quieter life. Shelby reminded me of her. She was a beautiful woman who was kind, generous, and glowing with that baby girl in her arms.
“It’s never too early to start, Baby.” Logan quickly rushed over to scoop the baby out of her arms. “Who’s my little Cherry Tart?”
“Good lord, Logan.” Shelby rolled her eyes. “Poor Pippa is going to think that’s her name. Can you please find something else to call her?”
“Nope,” he sang. “You’re a pie, and she’s a tart.”
“Tarts are gone in two bites.” Mason Kessler leaned over and shot Shelby a wink. “I’d rather have the pie.”
“Will you stop flirting with me?”
“Sorry,” he tsked. “Can’t do it. I’m a perpetual flirt. It’s part of my personality. Isn’t that right, Edith?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not above giving you detention, Mr. Kessler.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
For as much of a hassle as he was, Mason Kessler was my favorite. I always knew that boy had potential. He just needed a push in the right direction. He was in the last year of his Master’s program for psychology, and his wife was about to publish her third book. Not too bad for the class screw-up and outcast.
“Hey!” Mason raised his hand to point at identical twin boys. One held a stick in the air, while the other had a garbage can draped over him. “How many times do I have to tell you, put your back into your swings.”
His children may need the same push, except for his daughter. She was the quieter one of the triplets. Always had her nose buried in a book like her mother.
The boy holding the stick raised his thumb.
“Okay, dad,” he said, then swung, clacking it off the garbage can.
Mason gave him a thumbs up in return. “Good job, Asher.”
“I’m Archer.”
“I knew that.” Mason rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m gonna start writing their names on their foreheads.”
“Better make sure you write the right one,” Silas grumbled.
“Shouldn’t you be on tour somewhere?”
“Even rockstars have vacations.” Silas’s last album went platinum.
“Wanna see a rockstar get punched in the face?” Mason shot back.
“Wanna see a shrink get drowned in the bathtub?”
Mason’s mouth fell open with an overly dramatic gasp. “That term is derogatory. London! Your husband is making fun of my chosen career path again.”
Star rolled her eyes over her shoulder and sighed, “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
She was sitting with their son, Oliver, next to Harper and Lana.
Parker was off to the side, playing with Winslow and Mika. Mika was Harper and Mason’s daughter. His son, Weston, was up in the treehouse, watching everyone. He reminded me of his uncle.
“Grandma, can I get you anything?”
My beautiful Marnie. There was a time I thought Preston Whitley was a lost cause, but he saved my girl from herself. She’d never smiled like this, not even as a child.
“No, dear, I’m fine.” My eyes fell down to her swollen belly. “How’s little Trina doing today?”
