she’s right.”
“She might be. She’s intuitive, your wife.”
Cole nods. “Perhaps I was just blind. If I hadn’t been so sure you two disliked each other, so sure that you were complete opposites, I wouldn’t have been so surprised.”
“She surprised me too,” I say.
“And the more I think about it, the more sense the two of you make.” He shakes his head again, but this time, there’s a small smile on his face. “To think I might one day call you brother-in-law.”
“Imagine that,” I say. His voice hadn’t sounded entirely displeased, either.
“And you’re not cringing from that statement, either? Christ. The world really has turned upside down.”
“It has. You’re a father in, what, four months?”
“Four months, two weeks, and six days.”
“Not counting at all, are you?”
He takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes focused on Skye now. The burgundy dress fits snugly around her baby bump. “I’m a shameless counter,” he says, voice far away. “I even have one of those apps that lets me follow along.”
I shake my head at him, but it’s good-natured, and when my eyes land on Blair again… She really is glowing. Talking to Skye, her arms gesturing as she discusses some topic. It’s easy for my mind to imagine her round with child, instead. My child.
Dear God.
“We really are whipped,” I note.
Cole snorts beside me. “Gladly.”
Ethan finds us like that. He’s become a staple on Cole’s guest lists and an increasingly common tennis opponent. I’ve found that I don’t mind at all. The man has a decent backhand and an indecent sense of humor. Too bad he’s a single dad with basically no time for playing.
With a brandy glass of his own, he nods at the guests. “I’ve said it before, but you throw excellent parties, Porter.”
Cole tears his gaze away from his wife to nod at Ethan. “You should try it sometime. We’re practically neighbors, and yet I’ve never been to yours. At this point it’s practically an insult.”
Ethan’s smile is crooked. “Yes, well, I have two little hooligans at home who have black belts in wreaking havoc.”
“I’ll have one soon, too,” Cole points out.
“Yes, but I hate to break it to you, they don’t do much for the first year.”
“Oh?”
“They really only graduate to hooligan level after the year and a half mark,” Ethan says.
“And what are they when they’re teenagers?” I ask dryly.
Ethan pretends to shudder. “I have no idea yet, thankfully. Terrorist, perhaps? I should begin to prepare.”
“Build a safe room under your house,” Cole suggests. “Surely Greenwood zoning regulations allow that?”
I slip away quietly from the discussion of paternal struggles to find Blair. She’s no longer talking to Skye or her mother, but rather engaged in an animated discussion with a few of her friends. I recognize them instantly.
This should be good.
Coming up behind her, I revel in their wide-eyed gazes as I wrap an arm around her waist. Touching her grounds me—there’s no other way to describe it.
She looks up at me with warm, golden-brown eyes. “Hey.”
“Hi. What are we talking about?”
The friend across from her—I think her name is Maddie—gives me a hesitant smile. I vaguely remember her from a wedding months ago. Her smile had been flirty then. “Well, we were discussing… the candied apples. They’re served in the dining room. Have you had one yet?”
“No,” I say seriously. “I haven’t.”
Two of the men standing by her side shuffle from side to side, a tad uneasy.
“Come,” Blair tells me. “Let me show you.”
She pulls me into the considerably less crowded dining room. “Oh my God, thank you for getting me out of there.”
“Anytime.” Reaching up, I run a tendril of her golden hair through my fingers. “What exactly was I saving you from? I thought you liked your friends.”
“You used to call them a posse,” she teases. “A clique.”
“Yes, because they love you for your attention. And perhaps because I was jealous.”
Her smile stretches wider. “We were talking about you. They couldn’t believe I’d kept it a secret. They couldn’t really believe it at all, actually.”
“They’ll likely tell everyone.”
“Most probably,” she says. “Maddie can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
There’s no trace of resignation on her face—only a teasing smile and glittering eyes. “Well, I have to say, calling you mine in public has a nice ring to it,” I say.
“You think?”
“Yes.” And then, not caring who’s in the room or who’s watching, I bend down to press my lips to hers. She kisses me back, arms circling my neck, sweeter than any Christmas candy.