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She clung to me with the strength of a hundred, female Olympic hockey players. “Daddy,” she said and gazed up at me with wet, teary eyes, “we did it.”
I nodded and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, but you’re the one who put in the work.”
I held my daughter in my arms for I don’t know how long.
Finally, I wiped my face for the second time that day. “All right, now the real work starts for you ladies. No more playing in the sandbox. You’re with the big kids, now.”
She let go of me and hugged the crap out of her husband.
Fuck, they were cute.
When Trey let go of her, Jillian and Gigi were there to do their final jump for joy with Lexi.
The screaming broke sound barriers, and I was fairly certain it had caused some hearing damage.
I watched my wife make her way to me. She wore a lovely smile that I was going to kiss right off her in a minute.
When she was within reaching distance, I took her in my arms. She set her hands on my shoulders and said, “Congratulations, Daddy. You did good.”
I squeezed the shit out of her and crushed my lips to hers.
Eventually, everyone sat back down—the cloud of worry lifted.
That was when I noticed Cash casually lean over and whisper in Jillian’s ear.
I also noticed his hand disappear under the table.
She smiled a knowing grin at him.
And he smiled at her the same way.
Which was interesting.
Since they’d each come here with other people.
Jillian with her fiancé.
And Cash with his girlfriend.
Of course, it wasn’t as interesting as when I’d caught them skinny dipping in the pool late last night.
Just them.
Without their significant others.
When Cash brought the matter up to me in the kitchen, early this morning—all I said was, “None of my business, man. But, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He’d replied with such a horrible look of conflict on his face, I felt sorry for the guy.
No one seemed to be any the wiser. And if this shit got out, it wouldn’t be because of me yapping my mouth off.
Fuckin’ guys.
Jesus.
I looked up to see my wife’s eyes on me. Considering she was a mile away at the other end of the table, I picked up my phone.
“Nice table,” I sent to her. “There’s still room for more.”
She picked up her phone and laughed. “I know,” she sent back. “I was just thinking that same thing.”
I set my phone down and mouthed, “I love you,” across the long, vast table to her.
She smiled and looked down at her phone.
I picked mine back up to read, “I love you, too, Wes Hunter.” Then she sent the same message she did every single day.
Without fail.
“Thank you for giving me today.”
