“Uncle Wily!” she screams, raising her hands in the air and rushing him.
My big brother turns around, a smile lighting his face as he crouches low to collect her up, throwing her into the air and catching her before pulling her in for one of his bear hugs.
“Unca Wyweeee!” Kendall yells, fighting her restraints like she’s been kidnapped.
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Grady’s made it around the side of the car and calmly releases the buckle, lifting her out of the seat. She rushes away from him, and he has to catch her before she face-plants into the snow.
“Slow down,” he warns her, but she ignores him, slipping and sliding her way to her favorite uncle, who leans down to gather her up and lift her into a hug as well.
My girls squeal and giggle in his big arms as the front door opens and Satch and her horde of beautifully behaved children walk out to greet us.
Dom, my oldest nephew, gives me a grin and walks straight to the back of our pickup truck, offering to carry in our luggage.
Jane and Charlotte run toward me for cuddles, and Sebastian launches himself at Grady with a flying hug that my man is only just able to steady himself for. They end up slipping in thesnow, and Grady laughs while he swings his wild nephew around before placing him on his feet and ruffling his hair.
“Aunty Blake!” someone shouts from the doorway, and I glance up to find Portia running toward me, sweet Harley only a few steps behind.
I let go of Jane and Charlotte so I can hug the twins, and we stay out in that light snowfall, laughing and smiling and hugging and greeting each other.
Nylah stays in the doorway, soon beckoning us all inside before we get too cold.
We all trail into the deliciously warm house, and I give Nylah’s very round belly a hello and a quick kiss before hugging her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a waddling whale.” She laughs. “I can’t wait for him to come out already. But I’ve still got two months to go.”
I groan in sympathy. I so remember that feeling.
We stay by the door, chatting about the trials of pregnancy. Satch hovers nearby but can’t really join in the discussion because she breezed through all five of hers. Seriously, it’s like she was born to be a mother, because she never had any morning sickness, no back aches, pains, nothing. And her last labor was so freaking fast, they didn’t even make it to the hospital. Paris ended up popping out in the back seat of their minivan, in a shopping mall parking lot that Wily had to pull into on the way to the hospital.
She must have had a total of like ten contractions or something.
Me, on the other hand? I had a forty-two-hour labor with Nichelle. It ended in a C-section, and I chose to have an elective with Kendall, because the idea of going through that again was giving me major anxiety.
Nylah’s hand rubs over her big belly, and I glance away when Satch moves to wrangle the kids into… I don’t know what. She’ll have something planned. She’s always so freaking amazing at these weekends.
Checking on my family, I wince when I spot Kendall stomping her foot with an emphatic “No!” Every other kid in the room is standing to attention, willing to do anything for Aunt Libby, but not my little girl.
“No?” Satch laughs at her. “Well, yes, young lady, you can.” She crouches down, gently holding my girl’s hands. “You know why? Because I think you’re smart enough and kind enough to play this game with me. I’d be so sad if you missed out.”
Kendall purses her lips, her dark eyebrows dipping together before her gaze seeks me out. I nod, smiling at her, silently begging her not to make a fuss or cause a scene.
Satch and Wily’s children are always so perfect. It makes my little hellion seem a million times worse than she is.
“Come on, Kenny. Let’s play.” Jane smiles at her. “You can sit by Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s blonde curls bounce as she nods and holds out her hand.
Kendall moves around the circle, finally taking a seat beside her cousin. Charlotte takes her hand, smiling at her, and even though they’re basically the same age, Little Lotti is so much more settled and calm and… mature than my girl.
Can three-year-olds be mature?
I don’t know, but those kids are freaking amazing.
And as if to prove my point, Dom appears at the bottom of the stairs, pushing up his sleeves and informing me, “I’ve put all your bags in your room, and the girls are set up in the one next door. They’ll be sharing with Charlotte and Jane. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s perfect.” I squeeze his shoulder, surprised by how tall and buff he’s gotten, even since Christmas. The kid’s only nine, but he’s going to be a beast, just like his father. “You’re amazing.” I smile at him, enjoying the light blush of his cheeks.
