“One of our old coaches is retiring from Iowa State.”
“Boooooooooo.” Can’t help it, it’s built into my whole system to boo them as soon as someone says their name. “You all played for him?”
AJ nods. “Great coach. He coached Austin, Linc, and Obi on different teams. But we played together.” He points between himself and Jer. “About fifty of us are all in town for the ceremony and dinner.”
“He doesn’t know it, either. It’s going to be fun.” Jeremy eats something else from his plate. It’s possible I’ve found someone who can eat even more than I do. “Glad wegatecrashed book club though. That was fun. Think we can get Sorcha and Freya to make a book club with us?”
AJ shakes his head. “We have more chance of getting our kids to do it than our wives.”
“Could be fun. Kids book club could be tricky with multiple ages though.”
Both guys look at me for a moment before Jer smacks my chest. “Been a dad for ten minutes and already he’s bringing the logic.”
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “I’m the snack guy. I bring the snacks, not logic.”
“We better make a move.” AJ turns to head back into the kitchen with Jer and me on his heels.
Ares stands in the doorway, arms crossed, an unreadable look on his face, eyes dark.
Shit.
How much of that did he hear?
CHAPTER 29
Victoria
Sunday mornings are usually my favorite but my stomach’s in knots as I stare at the clock. I might be changing my mind about Raffi coming by to take Wyatt and me out for some family time.
We’re heading to the Fun Station, a giant indoor playground Wyatt loves going to and hates leaving, and I have no clue how it’s going to go. It was Raffi’s idea—he wants to spend the day together. Like, the whole day. He’s bringing Panera bagels for breakfast, we’re going to the play area for the morning, and after lunch we’re going to visit the gardens at the Brucemore estate. They haven’t recovered after the derecho storm that swept through Cedar Rapids in 2020.
It destroyed more than seventy percent of the mature tree canopy, including more than fifty, century-old trees. Many of the historical landscape features will have to be restored—a process that will take decades.
I used to go sometimes, not often enough that my entrance fee would help them earn what they need to keep making improvements, but I tried to take beautiful photos to post online hoping to help promote them to new visitors.
It’s a beautiful place. I haven’t been there in such a long time, and my fingers are already itching to take some pretty pictures. There’s nothing more satisfying than the crunch of fall leaves underfoot as you walk around in nature.
Wyatt loves making snow angels in leaves, but I haven’t taken him to Brucemore since he was a couple months old. There’s no way he remembers any of it. I’d never dare take him into the mansion—no one needs Hurricane Wyatt to go in among those artifacts and whip up a frenzy. But the gardens are gorgeous and expansive.
If indoor play followed by outdoor play isn’t enough to tire out the little crotch goblin, we’ve met our match.
They decorate the mansion for holidays, and while Thanksgiving and Christmas are both coming up pretty freakin’ quickly, part of me is loath to believe I’ll be with Raffi even next week, let alone for major holidays.
Gotta get through this first family “date” first, right?
Wyatt’s running circles around the dining table brandishing a plastic sword. He’s swinging a shield too, but I have no clue who he’s running from.
A sharp knock at the door makes me start, even though I’m expecting it. Palms clammy, heart racing, I open it and learn that casual Raffi might be my favorite. He’s in sweats and a Raccoons t-shirt, clearly ready to crawl through tunnels and zip down slides with the toddler.
He kisses me on the cheek. “You look great.”
My face heats. It’s only jeans and a sweater, some boots and day two curls, but he makes me feel like I’m dressed to go to the most formal occasion on the planet. The way his approval skims my curves makes me want to strip and do him right here on the kitchen table.
“Raffiiiiiiiiiii!” My pint-sized terror comes flying toward him, sword and shield held high as he screams. “Why are youhere?”
His directness is adorable and also a bit rude, but Raffi doesn’t miss a beat. He hands me the bag of bagels. “I was thinking about taking your mom out to the Fun Station. Would she like that?”
Wyatt’s face falls as his mouth drops open. “No! Take me! Mama doesn’t like it.”
