I face him and knock the brim of my hat high enough off my face so he can see me roll my eyes. “Quit.”
He kicks my boot with his. “Don’t wake up Lola, now.”
I brace my fingers on my chest. “You kicked me. If she wakes up, it’s your fault.”
He strokes his hands down Lola’s back, and even though I’m in debt up to my eyeballs and I’m not even in a serious relationship that isn’t completely fake, I’ll never stop longing for that moment again.
The life I created curled up against my chest, our hearts beating as one, love coursing between us no matter what goes on all around. I knead a fist down my sternum to dislodge the desire brewing more intensely than ever, and force myself to look away from a laughing Quinn glowing under the Texas sun.
“I’m serious, Landry,” Tate starts up again. “How are you doing with everything? With Quinn?”
In my effort to not stare at her and fall deeper into a love that isn’t mine to have, I look at Tate’s face, a face I’ve seen a million times in my life. Concern lingers beneath his eyes.
“I’m…” I stop mid-thought and consider coming completely clean and telling him the truth. Lola’s eyes open, and I point to her. “Sun’s in her eyes.”
Tate pulls a little yellow sunhat out of his shirt pocket and flops it onto her head, relying on me to straighten it out. I do, then sit back in my stupid plastic chair and prepare to come clean. Not because I want to, but because at this point, it feels like I have to. Or I may be foolish enough to accidentally come clean to Quinn.
I sigh.
“That good?”
I shake my head and scrub a hand down my face. “I should’ve married Mabel.”
“Why? Now, come on, no one would have believed you and Mabel Sable. Quinn was the only believable choice.” Baby Lola snorts, lifting her head from his chest, her face pink and sweaty. “Sh-sh,” he hushes, and her head falls against him, her little brown eyes pointed my way for a moment before they close again.
“That was easy,” I comment, reaching out to wiggle the tip of my finger in her tiny fist.
“She’s a good baby. I hear they get easier and easier with each one you have.” His smile is ear to ear. “Guess we’ll find out when the next one arrives.”
My eyes widen. “What? Is Love pregnant again?”
He grins, crooked but proud. “Just took the test this mornin’, so don’t say anything because I’m not sure I was allowed to tell you just yet.”
I bob my head, because I remember those days. He pats Lola’s back, and I watch Quinn and Love as they pass ice cream cones to the girls. Quinn runs her fingers through Sadie’s curls after retying her ponytail.
“She’s a natural with the kids,” Tate says.
“Yeah, she’s great with Sadie.” She’s great, period. But that little dear diary moment doesn’t need to be said. I sip my beer and set it back down.
Tate knocks his boot into mine once more. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
I peer over at my best friend with his baby. “Don’t be like what?”
“Don’t hold out on me. Tell me what’s goin’ on over there. You two look chummy as ever, and the Montgomerys only visited that one time.” He lowers his voice. “It can’t all be for show.”
After making sure that Quinn cannot at all overhear a single word of this conversation, I take a long pull from my beer and give in. Watching her, she tucks a piece of her soft, blonde hair behind her ear, bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she adjusts the exposure. “I’m in trouble.”
Tate bobs his head and reaches for his own beer, taking a drink. “How much?”
Sadie runs up, tears in her eyes, tugging on Quinn’s sundress, leaving filthy handprints behind. I’m about to spring out of my chair and haul her over to a hose and wash her off, then tell her to be careful around ladies who are dressed nicely, but I sink right back into my chair when Quinn hoists Sadie into her arms. She uses her free hand to dry Sadie’s tears, and the two of them saunter off. I watch as Quinn takes a napkin and wets it at the water station, then carefully cleans Sadie’s hands. She doesn’t even acknowledge the mess on her dress as they chat and get cleaned up.
“She must’ve dropped her cone,” Tate guesses, watching them too. “So, how much trouble are you in?”
I peer over at a sleeping Lola, then at Tate. “I don’t want her to leave, and I know Sadie won’t want her to go either. But I don’t got the balls to ask her to stay.” I reach for his beer and snag it, finishing it easily. “So… I’m in a lot of trouble. Big trouble.”
“You were always trouble,” a high-pitched feminine voice rings out behind me, followed by the slow drag of fingernails along my shoulders. Jenna Jasper appears in the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen worn in public, her bare thighs on display for the whole world. In knee-high leather boots the color of coal and a tiny tank top, Jenna seems like she hasn’t changed one single bit. She looked that same way when I took her on a date over nine years ago. The one date was plenty for me.
“Hi there, Jenna,” I greet, tipping my hat just barely, noteven bothering to get up out of my little plastic chair. I look over to the barn again, but Quinn and Sadie aren’t there anymore.
