Page 148 of Run to Me

“That was sweet,” I say through sniffles while slicing an onion.

Lucy piles leaves of lettuce on a plate. “All our men are sweethearts. We picked some good ones.”

Tatum and I share a doubtful look before she asks, “When is Rock ever sweet?”

Lucy tilts her head to one side and sighs, her eyes taking on a dreamy, faraway look. “When he’s begging me to let him come.”

“Who’s coming?” Jensen asks, his eyes darting between the three of us as he strides into the kitchen.

To hide my smile, I turn toward the sink and wash my hands. Lucy and Tatum are hopeless, breaking into a fit of giggles at his expense.

He crowds me against the counter and speaks low in my ear. “You ladies are trouble.”

“Only one of us,” I say, jerking my chin at Lucy.

Chuckling, he kisses my cheek before pulling the container of hamburger patties out of the refrigerator. He stacks the packages of buns on top and asks, “Who wants their buns toasted?”

Lucy raises a hand and says, “Me.” She smirks like she knows something we don’t.

A deep growl comes from nearby, and we all turn to find Rock with Marcella in his arms. Because I’m the closest to him, he hands me his daughter and commands, “Watch her.” Then he throws Lucy over his shoulder and takes off down the hall while she laughs. Those two are absolutely shameless.

Jensen shakes his head and says, “Just like old times,” referring to the days when Rock lived here after college. He adds, “You might want to turn on some music. They get pretty loud.”

Once Tatum finds a playlist and connects her phone to the Bluetooth speaker, we get back to work prepping food. We try our best to ignore the moans coming from down the hall—Rock’s moans—but we fail epically, snickering like schoolgirls.

I help Tatum as much as I can with Marcella planted on my hip. The toddler and I came to a mutual understanding during one of our many staring contests. She smiled at me. I smiled at her. And now we’re besties for life.

Graham and Miguel, the last couple to arrive, come rushing through the front door. Miguel has a gift bag in one hand and drags Ainsley behind him with the other. Her facial expression can only be described as dazed and confused.

Miguel announces, “Everyone, meet Ainsley. She’s adorable, and I’ve adopted her.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not how adoption works, Miggy.”

“We know Ainsley,” Tatum says, her gaze bouncing between the unlikely pair. “Where did you two meet?”

Graham ruffles his already tousled hair. “She’s our neighbor. We were checking out our new place and met her by the mailbox.” The resignation in his eyes tells me he argued with Miguel about claiming a grown woman, and he lost.

“So you just threw her in your car?” Tatum asks, jaw gaping.

My jaw’s on the floor too. Not only because they potentially kidnapped Ainsley but also because they’re talking about her like she’s not standing here.

“Of course not,” Graham says. “We gave her a ride.”

I wasn’t aware anyone lived near the land the guys purchased. Addressing Ainsley, I ask, “Where do you live?”

She fidgets with the hem of her Bruno’s shirt. “Oh, um…I was on my way here anyway because you invited me.”

“Exactly. We carpooled,” Miguel says, throwing up his hands like he’s exhausted with having to explain himself. I’m about to repeat my question to Ainsley about where she lives, but he shoves the gift bag at Jensen’s chest. “Open my gift,” he says.

Surprised, Jensen shuffles the meat container to one hand. He fumbles with the bag, but I catch it before it falls. Marcella’s pudgy, little toddler fingers go straight for the bow, but we don’t need to open it because Miguel ruins the surprise.

“It’s an autographed picture of me for your bathroom.” He waggles his eyebrows at Jensen, who turns and raises his own at Graham.

Graham shrugs and says, “I can’t help you, friend.”

Apparently, Miguel misunderstood the gift assignment. Everyone agreed to give us framed photos of me and Jensen from the years we were apart. We have plenty of pictures of us together as kids, and a few from recent months, but we don’t want to leave any gaps in the history we’ll hang on the walls.

Our changes to the house are coming along, as are the changes within me. Adding to the bi-weekly virtual visits I’ve scheduled with Dr. Sims, I signed up for a monthly group session at Irina’s studio, which starts next week. In the meantime, I’ve been painting my feelings and watching online videos to learn proper techniques.