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“Well, I’m here and not at the hospital, so that’s always a plus.” We both laugh, and he turns a kind eye to Scarlett. “Hey, Scar. It’s good to see you.”
She untangles from her niece and pulls Jason in for a hug. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Daddy, where is your walker?” Lexi chides, wrapping an arm around Rick’s back as though she can actually keep him from falling.
“Don’t need it.”
Lexi’s eyes widen. She looks from Rick to Scarlett. “What’s he talking about?”
“The physical therapist says he’s doing great, healing much faster than they anticipated. He’s been moving around without his walker or cane for four days now.”
“And no one thought to tell me?”
“Pull the stick out of your butt,” Rick says, causing Declan and Lucy to snicker. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”
Lexi’s face softens. “Of course, I’m happy for you, but you’re still my daddy, and I worry about you.”
“How about you worry about getting me a lemon shake-up and a funnel cake?”
“Yeah!” Declan shouts, jumping into the air.
Scarlett laughs and ruffles Declan’s hair. “Come on. Lemon shake-ups and funnel cakes for everyone. My treat.”
“We’ll get some tables,” Lexi says, veering her family to the left while Scarlett and I go in search of the snacks.
“Hey, lovebirds.” Scooter sidles up on the opposite side of Scarlett and puts an arm around her shoulders.
“Get your hands off my girl.”
“What girl? This girl?” He looks at Scarlett and feigns shock. “Is she your girl? I didn’t know, because no one tells me anything.”
Scarlett loves the banter and the attention. “Hey, Scooter?” she says.
“Yes, darlin’.”
“I’m Tucker’s girl.”
Damn, that sounds good.
“’Bout damn time.” Scooter drops a kiss to her head and squeezes my shoulder. “Stop by the beer tent later, and we’ll celebrate.”
“Not tonight. I’ve got Chloe.”
“And I’ve got dad,” Scarlett adds.
Scooter stops in his tracks and blinks at us. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? What are you two, seventy?”
I shrug. “Sorry.”
It’s a halfhearted apology, mostly because I’m not sorry. There’s really nothing I love more than being here with Scarlett and our families, enjoying the time together.
“Whatever.” Scooter waves us off, walking backward through the crowd. “Just come into the bar sometime and have dinner. I miss your ugly mug.”
“Will do.”
We wave goodbye to Scooter and turn toward the food cart, only to be stopped by a little girl clutching a pad of paper in her hand and wearing a giant smile.
“Can I have your autograph?” The little girl thrusts the paper toward Scarlett, only to be pulled away by her mother.
“Ari, what did I tell you? You can’t just go up and ask Miss Scarlett for her autograph. She’s here spending time with her family. It’s rude.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Scarlett takes the notepad and pen from the little girl.
“Are you sure?” the woman says, looking apologetic.
“Absolutely.” Scarlett squats down in front of the little girl. “What’s your name?”
“Arianna. My friends call me Ari. I’m a big, big fan of yours. I really wanna go to one of your concerts, but Mom says they’re all too far away. Maybe someday if you have a concert here, she’ll take me.”
Scarlett’s head snaps up. She looks at the girl with a furrowed brow. “I will mention it to my manager. I promise that my next tour will include somewhere close by, and if you write down your address for me, I’ll send you three tickets.”
“Really?” Ari’s eyes light up. “That’s so awesome. Thank you so much.”
“You don’t have to do that,” the mom says, shaking her head when her daughter squeals in delight.
“I want to.” Scarlett signs the top sheet of paper on the pad and hands it back to the little girl, who scribbles her address on another page. She tears it off and gives it to Scarlett.
“I don’t need three tickets. I only need two. One for me, and one for my mom.”
“I thought maybe you’d want to bring a friend,” Scarlett suggests.
Once again, the girl screams, and I have to take a small step back before she blows my eardrums. Scarlett is completely unaffected. I guess she’s gotten used to this over the years. She’ll probably be deaf before we’re fifty. I picture us in rocking chairs on the front porch forty years from now, and me having to scream to get her to hear me. I smile at the thought.
“Thank you so much.” Ari bounces on her toes as though she’s about to shoot off like a rocket. “Can I hug you?”
Scarlett answers the girl by wrapping her in a tight hug. When she lets go, Ari smiles, gives us one last wave, and walks away with her mother.
We’re stopped once more on our way to the food vendor, by a group of girls begging for a selfie. Scarlett takes it all in stride, talking to the girls and smiling for the camera. She even signs a couple of shirts and records a short video for one of the girls’ friends who is in the hospital recovering from surgery.
