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Paisley Cassidy is everything and more. She's my wife, sure. But she's also the moon, the stars. She's everything. I pull her close. Give her a kiss.
"Are the hamburgers almost done?" she asks. "The kids are starving."
"Well, of course they are. They're kids. Give them another Popsicle." I slap her ass. "Abilene is here and she's asking if she can Instagram the barbecue."
"I don't care," Paisley says, "but honestly, tell her not to use a filter. I feel like that's weird. We should just show it like it really is."
I smile, loving that about my wife. She always says you can't fake real. You don't need to put a filter on your reality. She not only got a record deal but my girl went platinum with her albums. She’s won two Grammy’s and been in a feature film.
After her Cherry Falls Festival concert went viral on TikTok seven years ago, all hell broke loose. That woman shot up to fame and fortune faster than was conceivable. It's been nonstop since then. I thought our world couldn't go faster when we fell in love and it was three weeks to an engagement.
But hell, her career went even faster than that.
So now no one could give us a hard time about falling in love at first sight because the whole world fell in love with her the moment they saw her face.
I could relate, considering the same damn thing happened to me the moment I sat down and ordered a hamburger and French fries and a cup of coffee at Annie's Roadside Diner.
The kids are asking for Popsicles and Paisley's saying she’ll get them.
"Honey, you're going to pop any damn second," I say. "I think you need to sit and rest. Maybe take a nap."
"We have fifty people at the house," she says. "You need to flip those burgers and finish those dogs and feed this crowd."
"I know that, honey."
"But Austin and his baby mama are here along with all our friends and family, and we need to sort our company before you have a baby, don't you think? Otherwise... Oh my God," she says, reaching for my wrist before I can say any more.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I think–"
"What?" Just then there's a giant gush. I look down at the concrete patio.
"Damn."
"What is it?" Abilene asks, running over, seeing our stunned looks.
I hand Austin the spatula. "I think you need to take over the grill," I tell him.
"Damn, what's going on, Holt? If I take over the grill, that means something serious..." He stops mid-sentence. "Oh shit. Paisley's having the baby."
"Abilene can you stop filming this?" Paisley asks.
Abilene flips the camera to her face. "So we're going to stop this Instagram Live video right now because I think Paisley Cassidy is about to go into labor."
"I think I just went into labor," Paisley clarifies.
Abilene slips her phone into her pocket, helping her best friend walk into the house. I follow close behind, barking orders at Paisley's assistant, making sure people know what to do with the kids.
"Handy," I say, "you got Lorelei and Dolly, all right? You take good care of your sisters, understood?"
"Yes, sir, Papa," he says.
"Good boy," I say. I look down at my daughters. "You going to be good while your mama goes and has her baby?"
"Of course. We want to give Momma kisses though," the little girls say.
"You go do that. She's in the house getting her shoes on."
Our girls and son run into the house to tell their mama goodbye, and I tell our guests we got to go. "It turns out Paisley is going to have her baby today. We had a good game, boys," I tell everyone from Little League, "and hopefully I'll see you next week on the field." I tell everyone goodbye before following my wife to the car.
Once we're in the Chevy, I turn on the music. Willie Nelson's on, of course. I take my girl's hand. I kiss her cheek. "We're going to do this," I tell her.
She nods. "Yeah, we are."
"You okay?"
She nods. "With you at my side, always."
