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“How would Hazel know?”
“Your mom took her for the day on Tuesday. They were party planning the whole time.”
Abigail Winters may be aloof and reserved around many people, but she dotes on Hazel in a way that reminds me of Gramps. Ever since she was born, Abigail and Austin have spent at least half the year in Landry, most of it with Hazel. They’ll never be the sort of in-laws that feel like a second set of parents, but my relationship with them is far closer than I ever imagined it being. They’re thrilled we’re expecting again.
Caleb follows me inside the front hall just as Hazel comes flying back down the stairs, clutching a piece of paper in her tiny fist.
“Here! Here!” she shouts, shoving it at Caleb.
He drops his bag by the door and takes it from her, crouching down to inspect it more closely.
“Is this me?” Caleb points to a stick figure standing next to a white and red ball that’s about the same height.
Hazel nods emphatically. “With a bawseball.”
“Baseball,” I correct.
“And this is Mommy?” Caleb asks.
“Yeah and me and Stormy too.”
I peer over Caleb’s shoulder at a stick figure that is apparently me next to a shorter one with brown hair and blue eyes that must be Hazel. Stormy takes up the most real estate on the page, as a brown blob in the background.
“It’s beautiful, Haze,” Caleb tells her.
She nods. “You’re welcome.” I hide a smile. “I’m going to get ready for Grandpa’s party,” she announces, bounding back up the stairs. I’m exhausted just watching her.
“How many people did Grandma invite?” Caleb calls after her.
“Five hundred,” Hazel calls back as she heads up the stairs.
“Unbelievable,” Caleb mutters. “Does she even know that many people?”
“You know she does. People are probably flying in from your dad’s office in New York.”
Caleb rubs his forehead. “Okay. I’m going to unpack. Maybe nap.”
“Okay.” I head for the kitchen. “I’m almost finished with my article for this week. We have to leave for your parents’ by six.”
Caleb sighs, then nods.
Caleb
The drive to my parents’ takes ten minutes, instead of the usual five. Both sides of the driveway are lined with cars, beginning right after I turn through the gate.
“Maybe she said fivethousand, and Hazel heard five hundred,” Lennon comments, from her spot in the passenger seat.
“Haha.” I can feel a headache forming at the thought. I didn’t drink much last night, but I didn’t get much sleep. In addition to celebrating the end of my career, the guys were drowning their sorrows about not making playoffs. I was relieved we didn’t, which is one reason I know I made the right choice retiring when I did.
Now that I’m back in Landry, all I want is to be alone with Lennon. Preferably in a bed, naked.
Instead, we’re heading to a fancy party that will undoubtedly include a lot of people I have no interest in talking to but will have to make nice with anyway.
Hazel starts kicking the back of my seat half-way up the driveway.
“Hazel. No kicking.”
She keeps kicking.
