“Rosie! Rosie come back!” Aspen begins to yell.
Her mother’s head dips to look under the chairs. “Aspen!” she exclaims.
Aspen squirms out of my grip, joining the chicken in a good chase down the aisle and through the crowd.
“I’ll get her,” I tell Willow. I don’t want her up running around. She’s due to pop anytime.
Jenny jumps to her feet to help.
The entire crowd is rolling by the time Jenny wrangles Aspen while I grab the chicken by his feet. “Sorry about that,” I say, dipping my head. “Continue.”
“Go on back to the wedding. Watch your mother,” I tell Jenny, taking Aspen’s hand.
Jenny grabs my face and kisses me. A kiss that whispers a thousand I love yous.
“I have missed you,” she says, smiling brighter than I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t wait for me to say it back. She gives Aspen a quick peck on the cheek and then hurries to her seat.
I tug Aspen up to the warehouse, wondering where the hell I’m going to put Rosie. “How did you get this chicken here?” I ask her.
“I put him in my bag when Mommy wasn’t lookin’,” she answers. When she smiles up at me, all I can see is her father’s ornery grin.
“You’re trouble, you know that?”
“Daddy says that all the time.”
I laugh, looking up at the sky. “You could have sent a little warning about this,” I joke with Rachel.
“Who you talking to, Papa?” Aspen asks.
“Your angel grandma,” I tell her.
“Oh.” She skips happily beside me, so darn cute in her little dress. She stops and looks up at the clouds. “She heard you,” she says, pointing up at them.
I follow her finger and see a perfect heart-shaped cloud floating above us.
My eyes fall closed, and I know she’s here with me.
I don’t know if I’ve felt her until now. But here she is, smiling down at us.
“I think you’re right,” I tell Aspen. “Now, let’s find a place to hide this chicken.”
She just giggles.
Turd.
We find an empty closet, leaving Rosie there for now. I’ll have one of the prospects run her back to the farm as soon as the ceremony is over.
Aspen and I watch the rest of the wedding from the kitchen window. I’m not taking any chances.
She points to the little frog. “Froggy,” she says.
“Yep, it’s a froggy.”
She giggles, leaning to look out the window, and my stomach falls. “What did you do now?”
“Daddy has froggies.” She giggles again.
“Did you and Daddy leave froggies somewhere?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
