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I laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think that will be possible.”
“Why not?” He frowned, his nose crinkling.
“I think my fiancé might not like that very much,” I whispered, like I was letting him in on a secret.
Jamie glanced to his right, where Trace and Sarah were currently spinning in circles, and looked Trace up and down as if sizing him up.
After a moment, he looked back at me. “I can take him,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
I threw my head back in laughter. “I’m sure you could,” I assured him, before I hurt the little boy’s feelings with my outburst.
“I’m very strong,” he boasted. “My dad says I’m going to be a fighter one day. He doesn’t like it when I fight with my sister though.”
“Fighting with sisters isn’t very nice,” I told him.
“I know,” he shrugged, “but she’s always taking my stuff. Doesn’t she know my toys are for boys and hers are for girls?” He looked at me seriously, waiting for an answer.
I smiled down at the eight-year-old boy. “Sometimes, siblings take each other’s stuff just to make the other one mad.”
Jamie glared at his little sister in Trace’s arms. “Well, that’s not very nice. I don’t touch her Barbie’s. Those things are gross.”
“I’m sure you’re not always nice to your sister.”
“Well,” he shrugged, frowning, “there was that one time I colored on her dolls. But she stole my Pokémon cards. So it was only fair,” he reasoned.
Ah, sibling logic. I hadn’t had to deal with that growing up, but I’d learned a few things being around Trace and Trent, as well as Avery and her brothers. Even as adults they were still picking on each other. I mean, Trace was twenty-four and Trent was nineteen, and those two were always arguing over something goofy and irrelevant.
“Do you have a brother or sister?” Jamie asked me.
“Not yet,” I shook my head. “But I will soon.”
“How?” He tilted his head. “You’re old.”
I frowned. I would’ve been better off to have told him no. Now, I was stuck explaining my complicated life to an eight year old. “It’s a long story,” I finally said, hoping that sufficed.
“I like stories,” he shrugged his small shoulders. “You can tell me. I’m a good listener, promise.”
“I’m sure you are,” I smiled at him. “But it’s not something I like to talk about.”
“Oh,” he frowned. “That’s okay.”
The music cut off and we stopped dancing.
“Dad,” Jamie groaned. “We were dancing.”
“Sorry, bud,” Marcus smiled at his son, “but it’s way past your bedtime. We need to get home.”
“Fun sucker,” Jamie grumbled, heading towards his dad with a lowered head.
“What did you say?” Marcus’ voice was stern but he was fighting a smile.
“Nothing, dad,” Jamie mumbled as he climbed into the SUV.
I turned to find Trace still holding Sarah, carefully rocking her in his arms. She was holding on tightly to his neck and her eyes were closed as she breathed deeply. I think my heart stopped beating for a moment before kicking into overdrive.
He carried her to the car and strapped her in her booster seat.
“We’ll follow you,” Trace said to Marcus.
