Not Just Friends (Hot in the City #3) - T. Gephart Page 0,66
literally incapable of catering small, the idea that someone might go hungry as sacrilegious as taking the Lord’s name in vain. Which was why we were all crammed into Casa Leighton on a chilly Saturday afternoon.
“Baby, you look tired.” My mother shook her head as I helped clean up the balloons and streamers from earlier in the day. “You getting enough sleep? Just last week I read an article that said lack of sleep was as dangerous as cocaine.”
“Orla, leave the man alone. He works long hours, he’s fine,” my dad piped in, trying to play interference. I wasn’t just my mom’s only son but her “baby” as well.
“Mom, I can assure you I’m fine, and I’m getting plenty of sleep. Would have preferred a little more today but couldn’t miss Princess Maddy’s big day.”
The princess in question was passed out on her father’s chest. She’d been hyped up on sugar and cake, crashing hard once the last of her little friends had left. Sammy was also taking a nap, dangling like a stunt dummy from my mom’s two-seater. “Should we move him to one of the spare bedrooms?” I asked my sister, Sarah, who was sitting in her husband’s lap. I swear if they didn’t make another baby before they left the house, it would be a fucking miracle.
She laughed, showing a complete lack of concern. “He sleeps like that all the time. It’s worse if you move him.”
Mason—who apparently was too old to nap—was checking out his little sister’s present haul. He was quietly entertaining himself on the iPad I’d given her—because I rocked as an uncle and was determined to be their favorite—while his mom was uploading the three thousand photos she’d taken to her social pages.
Content that I was getting enough sleep, my mother moved on to other pressing matters. “What time are Justin and Presley coming? I’m so glad you invited them over, you should have told them to come earlier for the party. Justin loves my cooking.”
“Tibbs, Mom, call him Tibbs.” I shook my head, my mother hanging on to Justin even though no one hardly called him that. Hell, even his old man was calling him Tibbs, as was most of his family. “And they were hanging out with their parents earlier. Trust me, he’ll eat enough when he gets here to make up for whatever he missed earlier.”
She shot me a stern look. “I’ll call him the name his mother gave him. And don’t you go making him feel bad. I love him like another son.”
Rolling my eyes, I finished filling the trash bag in my hands and carried it out to the garage. I’d barely put the bag into the trash can when my phone buzzed with an incoming message, an announcement from North that he was a new daddy to a little girl named Ava. Quinn and the baby were doing fine, Mack already at the hospital with him. Gave me a warm feeling in my chest to hear his good news, and doubly excited there would be a new princess to celebrate next year on the same day as my niece.
“Quinn and North had a baby girl, Ava,” I announced, walking back into the house.
My dad laughed, pointing to Tibbs and Presley who were already in the living room. “Gotta be quicker than that, Son, Tibbs already told us.”
“Can you believe North is a dad?” Tibbs shook his head in disbelief. “We definitely need to go out and celebrate tonight.”
It was funny, his voice fading out even though he kept talking. Because whatever he had to say was no longer important when she was in the same room.
Jesus, she was beautiful.
Dressed down in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, her face was makeup free and her hair pulled back. She was perfect, every inch of her breathtaking as I fought the urge to go over and kiss her.
I’d never get tired of looking at her, or wanting to touch her, the idea that I couldn’t, driving me crazy. And if her smile was anything to go by, she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Sweetheart, you want to go put your bag in Jared’s room? You can change in there before you need to go.” It was my mother’s voice that pulled me from my daydream, my eyes blinking as I thanked God no one saw me staring.
“You need to go to my room?” I asked obviously having missed part of the conversation.