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Inside, it was as bad if not worse than I expected, but in all the best ways.
“You were always crying,” Raiden teased. “A real crybaby.” He threw his arm around Tracy and turned to Sean. “Is she still whiny?”
“I’m not answering that question,” Sean grinned and shook his head. Sean, just as loud and boisterous as the rest of Lucky’s family, fit in perfectly. And he was funny as hell.
Tracy pushed Raiden’s arm off. “At least I didn’t eat my own poop.”
“I was six months old!” he countered, then grumbled, “Mom should never have told that story.”
Sean turned at that moment and loped over to greet us.
Ares seemed a bit shell-shocked. I tried to stick close to him, but after a few minutes he asked for some space and assured me he was fine.
I watched as he circled the table and took in the cakes, including the one Dani ordered for Sia.
My heart swelled with appreciation as every person there approached him to chat or get him a drink. He seemed to hit it off with Raiden, and I noticed Minty stuck close. That made sense to me. Not because of their positions in our lives, but because of their similar backgrounds.
Inky slept in my arms. A solid weight. One that made me feel closer to him even from across the room.
I’d stopped worrying about her mother returning to claim her.
Although I doubted I’d ever stop wondering at her leaving.
As much as my mother and I clashed, as much as she didn’t always accept my decisions, I knew I was loved.
Cherished.
Valued.
Had he ever had that?
I kissed Sia’s sweet head.
She would.
She would know.
She’d know every day of her life.
Ares
Three mini princess cakes sat in a row in the centre of the dining room table, one for each birthday girl.
Three little cousins whose birthdays fell within weeks of one another. Three little cousins whose aunts and uncles got together to throw them a birthday bash fit for royalty. The first two cakes boasted the number three and the third proudly hosted the number four.
Unbelievably, an even tinier cake, almost the size of a cupcake, sat on the end adorned with a cursive A. I mentally ran through the children’s names. Brayleigh. Paige. Sloane. No A-names. Was that for Anastasia?
It hit me suddenly that I didn’t know how to do this for Sia.
Even if I did, I had no one to invite.
My eyes sought Hope across the room. Sia slept against her shoulder. A deadweight. She must have been heavy, but Hope showed no sign of fatigue. Instead, she cradled the back of Sia’s head in her palm while she chatted and laughed with one of Lucky’s sisters.
Even as I watched, Hope pressed a gentle kiss to Sia’s face, doing so without thought.
Love poured from her effortlessly.
I looked around.
