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“The first time the big guy’s won anything in a long time,” Gibson grumbles, and I give him the finger from behind my back.
Isla hugs me. “Congrats!”
The knife in my chest returns. All I’ve ever wanted is children of my own. But it’s not to be. I pat Isla on the back before stepping out of her hold. Best not to get too attached to someone else’s child. Especially when that someone else pisses me off on a regular basis.
“What game is next?” Jett asks.
“Hide and seek. You’re it!” Isla tags me before darting away.
Jett and Gibson rush away as well. I sigh before turning around and beginning to count to fifty.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Isla hide behind the trash can next to the porch. I swallow my laughter and continue to count.
“Fifty! Ready or not. Here I come,” I shout.
I scan the yard for any sign of Gibson or Jett, but I don’t spot them. Not surprising since Gibson is adept at hiding. He’s had lots of practice hiding from pissed off fans.
My personal favorite was when he tried hiding in the catering cart but fell out as they were wheeling it toward our suite. Probably because he drank several of the mini bottles of whiskey while he was in there.
“Isla, time for dinner!” Leia hollers from across the yards.
“But we’re playing hide and seek,” Isla calls from her hiding spot.
I wait for Leia to get angry with Isla for disobeying her. For her to start shouting nasty words at her daughter. My hands fist and my chest heaves. I can’t hit a woman but I will ensure Isla is safe.
Leia marches over to our yard. “Here are your choices, daughter of mine.” Her gaze travels around the yard as if we don’t all know Isla is ‘hiding’ behind the trash can.
“You can finish your game of hide and seek.”
“Yes!” Isla shouts.
“And eat your spaghetti cold when you’re finished. Or, you can come out and eat your dinner while it’s warm.”
“Cold spaghetti is gross,” Isla grumbles.
“I give up!” Jett cries as he climbs down the tree.
“I’m hungry,” Gibson says as he crawls out from underneath the back porch.
My stomach rumbles in agreement. I check the time and realize it’s after six.
Leia bites her lip. “Do you want to come over for dinner?”
Isla abandons her ‘hiding spot’ to tug on my hand. “Yeah, Fender. Come to dinner.”
“Go ahead, Fender. We’ve got plans,” Gibson says.
“What pla—” Gibson elbows Jett before he can finish his question. “Yes, of course. We have other plans. You go along, Fender. Enjoy your spaghetti.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Sorry, squirt.” I tweak her nose. “I’m busy.”
Leia lets out a visible sigh of relief. She doesn’t want to be around me? Same, firecracker, same.
“Come on, Isla.” Leia grasps her daughter’s hand. “Thank the guys for playing with you this afternoon.”
“Thanks for playing with me.”
Jett winks. “Anytime, doll face. Anytime.”
