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She jumps into the air to return it, grinning. “Naughtiest since you.”
“Aw, thank you,” I say on my own return.
“No.” Amelia reaches up, and with perfect form she slams the birdie at my face. “Thank you.”
Lifting my forearm, I block the birdie just in time. “Body shots are illegal!” I cry, gasping with laughter.
She puts her hands on her hips and smiles. How did I not notice she was barefoot until now? “Not for the master of discipline.”
“Lesson learned,” I say, and now she’s laughing too.
I bend over and put my hands on my knees, glancing at Liam. He’s dropped the birdie and is currently shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth.
“Whoa, buddy, let’s not eat that.” I stand and hustle over to him, gently taking his hand and brushing away the dirt. He looks up at me, mouth open. His lips and tongue are black. “Welp. Let’s hope that wasn’t deer poop.”
“Poop,” he repeats. Must be his favorite word or something.
Amelia shuffles over and wipes his mouth with her shirt.
I rub his back. “Everybody poops, little man. Everybody poops.”
A loud whistle sounds from the house. I look up to see Samuel standing on the back steps, fingers in his mouth as he makes another ear-splitting whistle. “Meat’s here!” he shouts.
“Meat?” I ask.
“Me-e,” Liam says.
“Y’all are still making meat puns?” Amelia asks, shaking her head.
“I brought y’all dinner,” Samuel replies, descending the steps. “Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and some minty peas. Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”
“I always mind,” I say, although my mind’s already leaped twelve steps ahead, and I’m grateful for the excuse to spend more time with Liam and Amelia at my kitchen table. Will this be the first time I’ve ever used it? “Come and meet your nephew.”
I look at Liam. Take in his bright pink face and dirty hands and big blue eyes. His cuteness is a punch to the gut.
“Are you hungry, Yoda?” I ask.
He looks back at me. Looks at Samuel. Then to my delight and surprise, Liam wraps his arms around my legs and buries his head in my thighs.
“Aw.” I pat his back, doing that smile-so-hard-it-hurts thing again. “I also think Uncle Samuel’s face is scary.”
Samuel claps me on the shoulder. “Your face will be too if you don’t adjust that attitude.” He crouches. “Hi, Liam. I’m Uncle Samuel. Can you say ‘handsome’?”
Liam turns his head and stares at Samuel.
“Just like you when you were a baby,” my brother says, glancing up at me.
“Cute and perfect and therefore the favorite?” I ask.
“Silent and serious,” he replies. Then he turns back to Liam and smiles. “And you’re my favorite nephew because of it.”
Amelia laughs softly. “He’s your only nephew.”
“Semantics.”
Samuel tries to give Liam a high five, but Liam says, “No!” and hides his face again.
Laughing, I lift my son and settle him on my hip. I like the feel of having his solid little weight in my arms. There’s something . . . I dunno, almost soothing about it.
“Let’s go eat.” I turn my gaze to Amelia, heart thumping as hope, stupid and wild, fills my center. “Would you like to stay for supper?”
By the way she blinks, hard, she wasn’t expecting the invitation. I feel the heat of Samuel’s gaze flicking between Amelia and me, but I ignore it.
It’s the polite thing to do, asking her to stay for dinner. No doubt Samuel brought enough food to feed an army.
Yeah. Yeah, I’m also still terrified to be alone with my son. He likes me now, but I’m not sure what will happen if Amelia leaves.
“I don’t want to interrupt family time,” she says at last.
“Amelia, you are family,” Samuel replies, and the thump in my chest gets louder.
“No pressure,” I reply. “But Samuel’s mashed potatoes are out of this world.”
My brother wags his eyebrows. “So’s my meat.”
“How does Emma put up with you?” Amelia asks, laughing. She turns to me. “Terrible meat puns notwithstanding, I’d love to stay for supper.”
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia
“Mo-wa.”
“More? Really?” I stare at Liam in disbelief. “This’ll be your third slice of meatloaf.”
He stares right back, his serious expression a hilarious counterpoint to the smears of potatoes and peas that cover his sweet little face. There are even morsels of ground meat in his hair. No clue how those got there, but it’s cute as all get-out.
“Mo-wa,” he repeats, this time gesturing to the plate in front of me.
I move to hand over what’s left of my meatloaf, but Rhett waves me off. “You finish yours, Amelia. Little man, you can have the rest of mine. Growing baby needs to eat!”
Rhett cuts his meatloaf into tiny pieces. He uses his fork to ferry them onto the tray of Liam’s high chair, which we’ve pulled up to the table in the kitchen. Liam immediately digs in, grabbing a fistful of meat and jamming it into his mouth.
