Dred and the band were considering touring for the first time since Lennon’s accident. He glanced over at the drummer who was chatting with a couple of the guys who worked at Reid’s garage. It was hard to believe what had happened, but the level of worry Dred had once carried for Lennon had significantly reduced.
“Yeah. I talked to Michael. I guess as the show producer, he has the ability to make things like this work. We might combine some dates with the tour schedule. Like, stay in Cleveland for an extra day or something so we can film there the day before or after… if that works for you.”
Trent nodded. “I can write my own schedule, so just let me know. I’m glad we can make it work. Are the families going with you?”
Dred laughed. “Yeah, we’re the regular fucking Von Trapps. They won’t be with us all the time, but I haven’t even begun to think about how many tour buses we need for nearly twenty people across five families… and that’s before we get to the crew. Plus, the logistics are so much more complex with so many different schedules to work in.”
Trent knocked the top of his beer against Dred’s. “Good luck with that.”
Dred rubbed his hand across his jaw. “It’s going to be like a dog’s chorus. One kid’ll cry, and then they’ll all go down like dominoes. Honestly. I’m thinking we should just get five buses. Or four maybe so Jordan and Lexi can share with Lennon. Georgia’s the only one definitely not coming because she’ll have to work. It’s a fucking logistical nightmare. I don’t envy Ryan trying to figure all this out.”
Pixie joined Cujo and Harper on the dance floor and Cujo mouthed to Dred the word threesome.
“Lucky man,” Trent shouted back, knowing full well that his friend was teasing and meant nothing by it beyond causing him to laugh.
“Dick,” Dred yelled.
“What’s a dick, Daddy?” Petal said, appearing in front of them. She was rubbing her eyes after an hour-long power nap on Jordan’s lap.
“It’s what Uncle Cujo is when he’s being annoying but don’t tell mommy I said that.”
Petal looked back at Cujo and muttered the word dick. “I love you, Daddy,” she said and ran in the direction of Lia.
“I’m sorry,” Dred said, suddenly.
Trent turned to face him. “For telling your daughter Cujo is a dick? It’s a true story so no worries.”
“No. For Pixie not coming back as often as she should.”
Trent sighed. “From the first day you saw her in the studio, Cujo and I saw it coming. And I get it. You’re there. The band’s there. You can’t live in two places.”
“I know. But it just became too easy to stay there. And we can’t even use the excuse we were touring. We weren’t. We were writing. And while we usually do that together, there was no reason we couldn’t have done it remotely.”
“As long as she’s happy, that’s all we’ve ever cared about.”
Dred nodded. “I know. But I think she’d be happier if she saw you guys more often. There may be times when she’s down here without me. And I know she’s got Lia and Reid a couple of floors above her, but I’m worried about her being alone.”
Trent put his hand on Dred’s shoulder. “We’ve got her. I know he looks like a complete doofus half the time, but Cujo wouldn’t let a thing happen to her, and neither would I. We’ll collect her and the girls from the airport, we’ll take care of them. If it ever makes sense because you’re away and she wants to be here, we’ll look after her.”
Dred’s shoulders sank in relief. “Thanks, man.”
Pixie walked up to them, a grin on her face. “Is either of you the reason Petal just called Lennon a dick?”
Trent laughed and Dred sprayed some beer. “Not guilty,” Trent said, lifting his hands into the position of surrender. “You’re on your own with this one, Dred.”
Still laughing at the image of Petal using the d-word, he found Harper off to the side of the dance floor.
“Hey, Darlin’,” he said, snaking his arms around her waist and planting his palms on her bump. They’d done all the tests on the little girl they planned to name Seren, not that it would have made any difference. They’d just wanted to be prepared. She didn’t have Trisomy 21 like Travis. He thought back to one of the nurses who, in a well-meaning gesture, had suggested that she’d be ‘normal’… as if Travis wasn’t. It had aggrieved him so much, he’d written a letter of complaint to the hospital.
“Hey, Sweetie.” Harper placed her hands over his and leaned back against his shoulder. She really was the cutest fucking pregnant woman. Not least because her breasts, which he liked on any given day, swelled, and he had a clear line of sight of her ever-increasing cleavage. From the back, she looked as slender as she always did. From the side, it looked as though there was a bowling ball tucked up her T-shirt.
“Where’s Travis?” she asked, swaying to the music. Given she was wearing the new pair of Jimmy Choo’s he’d given her that morning, her ass was brushing his dick in a way that might get him, and her, into a lot of trouble.
“Passed out on Mom. He tried to keep up with Petal for as long as he could and then he just needed to sleep.”
“Perfect. They look happy, don’t they?” She tipped her head in the direction of her brother and Lia, dancing with Petal on the dance floor.
“Yeah. Not as happy as me and you, though.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. As always, she tilted to give him access. If she were ever mad at him, all he had to do was kiss her right at the sweet spot behind her ear and she’d forget what she was mad about in a heartbeat.
Harper laughed. “I certainly have no regrets in my choice of tattoo artist.”
Trent turned her to face him. Those green eyes of hers were filled with joy. “I hope you have no regrets about any of it.”
“None. Not a single one.” She placed her hands around his neck, and he placed his hands on her hips, drawing her as close as her bump would allow. “What about you?”
“Well, there was this one time in Vegas with Cujo when I was twenty-four—”
“Stop,” Harper said, laughing. “I don’t want to know where that leads. You know what I mean. About us. About Travis. About having more kids. The life we have.”
Her skin was soft beneath his palm as he brushed his thumb along her cheek gently. “I wake up each morning and say a fucking prayer of gratitude that my life turned out this way. I reach for you and feel your naked body next to mine, and I know the world’s still okay, despite the chaos that seems to constantly be happening in the world around us. And as for Travis. The way he smiles at me when I go get him out of bed in the morning makes me feel a million feet tall. And do I grieve a little that he won’t get to experience this life that we have in the same way we have it? Sure. But it’s my job to ensure he experiences the fuck out of the life he has. It’s a gift I get to be his dad.”
“Trent,” Harper whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “And now I’m crying. Again. Hormones.”
“If it helps you out, I was also about to say it’s a gift I get to bang his mom.”
Harper sniffled as she laughed. “You’re an ass.”
“So I’ve been told, Mrs. Andrews. So I’ve been told.”
The DJ changed the dance song to a slower one and Trent put his arm around her and swayed to the music. “What do you say, once we’ve got Travis settled, I show you just how much I like making out with my son’s mom?”
Harper kissed him softly. “I think I’d like that very much.”
They danced in silence for a few moments.
“Do you ever think about how many people are here because of you?” she asked.
“You mean the wedding?”
“No. Like their connections to you is the thing that links so many people. Everything that happened to me happened for a reason to bring me here. To you. You met Cujo in kindergarten. And then you and Cujo were able to save Pix when she needed you. And the tattoo studio meant you got to meet Lia. And then there was the show, that brought Dred to Pix. And with
Dred came Jordan and everyone else. And because I came to you, Reid ended up here with Lia. You’re like a regular Mufasa.”
Trent laughed to quash the emotions rising in his throat. “I think you and Travis have watched too much Lion King.”
“You know how much he likes the songs. But don’t deflect. You’re the head of this pride.”
“I think I’d rather be Simba.”
She slapped his chest lightly with her palm. “Take the compliment, oh husband of mine. You’re the glue. And being the glue guy is a wondrous thing. It’s because you are a good man. I married a good man.”
His heart filled up from everything Harper was saying. Sure, he’d won awards for his tattoo designs. And Inked had won an Emmy two years earlier. A fucking Emmy for him and Dred as hosts. But nothing mattered more than how Harper saw him. As a husband, as a father, and as a man.
Gratitude filled him. Filled every part of his being.
He’d never imagined that marriage and fatherhood would be more fulfilling than any other facet of his life, but somehow his world pivoted around them.
His mom walked toward him holding Travis, who was sitting up in her arms rubbing his eyes. As she walked, she tapped Cujo on the shoulder and muttered something. He grabbed Drea and motioned to Pix. They all started walking toward him.
“This little guy wants his dad,” she said, handing Travis to Trent.
“Hey, Bud,” he said, settling him on his hip.
“George,” Travis mumbled, wanting his stuffed giraffe that currently sat on the end of his bed.
“We’ll go home and see George soon,” he said, rubbing his hand down Travis’s back as his son buried his head against his father’s neck.
“I have an idea,” his mom said. “I want the family version of the picture in the shop.”
Under his mom’s instruction, they lined up along the wall.
“Everybody say cheese,” she said.
Trent smiled, but he knew the rest of the line was in chaos.
His mom looked at the back of the screen. “We need to take it again. Everybody look this way.”
But it was no use. Restless babies, drunk people, and a lifetime worth of friendships were never going to line up straight. Just like they hadn’t when his mom had attempted to take the photograph that hung at the front of the tattoo studio by the alarm pad. Just him, Cujo, Pixie, and Lia… and even then, they hadn’t been able to stand straight and smile.
“Let me see, Mom,” he said, reaching for her phone.
“For so-called celebrities, you are all terrible at posing for a photograph.” She passed the phone to him.
Trent studied the picture on the screen.
Trent held Travis in one hand with his other arm placed on Harper’s shoulder. Harper stood with her hands on her bump, looking down the line toward Lia who was bent forward pretending to be shocked at something Harper had said. Fuck, his wife had a beautiful smile when she laughed. Dred held toddler, Arwen, with Pixie by his side who was turned to Cujo who held Petal in the air. Drea grinned at the squeal she’d heard from Petal. Lia had her arm thrown over Drea’s shoulder, while Reid shrugged at the camera, knowing full well it would be mission impossible to get them all to stand straight and smile, just like he did.
“It’s perfect, Mom.”
His mom smiled at him and placed her hand on his cheek. “Yes, it is. I’ll send it to you.”
Harper’s words sunk in about his friends, about their connection to each other. He’d had a similar feeling in the chapel in Las Vegas when Cujo and Drea had got married. That they were all so tightly bound. A unit.
As the group dissipated back into the wedding reception, Trent pressed a kiss to Travis’s cheek and then one to his wife’s. “Want to sneak out of here early, get this little guy to bed?”
Harper glanced down at her watch. “There’s still enough of the bad boy I fell in love with if you think midnight is early.”
Trent laughed. “Would you want it any other way, Darlin’?”
Lia, one hand hitching up the skirt of her wedding dress, pointed directly at Trent. “You. Dance floor, now. And also you, and you, and you,” she said, pointing to Dred, Reid, and Cujo. “My niece wants a dance troupe, and a dance troupe she’s going to get.”
“Babe,” Reid warned.
“Nope,” Lia said. “Don’t Babe me. Dance floor. Dred, grab the band.”
Dred shook his head. “Lia, whatever you’re thinking…”
“You all know this one already, so scoot.”
Harper took Travis from Trent’s arms. “Come here, Sweetie,” she said, perching Travis on her hip. “Let’s go watch Daddy dance.”
“You take video and you aren’t getting laid tonight,” Trent said.
Harper shrugged playfully. “Your loss.”
He kissed her forehead, then Travis’s. No matter what he ended up doing, they both knew he’d not be able to keep his hands off her. “Do you know what this is about?” Trent asked.
“Maybe,” Harper said with a laugh. “There might have been some rehearsal getting ready at Lia’s earlier today.”
Trent tugged his fingers through his hair as he walked to the dance floor that was suddenly being cleared by Drea. “Drea, what are we doing?”
Drea grinned. “The most perfect thing.”
Lia took the microphone from the DJ. “Hey, everyone. Can I get your attention for a few minutes? My niece, Petal, and her dad and all her favorite uncles want to do a dance performance. Guys,” she said, “you just follow Petal.”
Trent looked around the room. Kendalee was pointing Elliott out to Holly who was clapping. Lexi had her arm wrapped around Trent’s mom, who stood next to Harper who was grinning. Gia held Arwen and laughed at something Lia had just said.
“What the fuck is this?” Cujo muttered.
Nik shrugged. “No clue, but I think Jenny just told the boys what we’re doing.” Trent looked over where Nik’s family were all grinning and clapping.
“Remember, timing.” Petal stood in front of them, feet apart, hands on hips.
Pixie burst out laughing.
“Fucking timing,” Dred muttered to Lennon behind Trent.
“Why am I on the front fucking row?” Trent muttered to nobody in particular. He turned and saw Jordan at the back of the dancefloor. “Isn’t Jordan your absolute favorite uncle?” he asked Petal. “Shouldn’t he be at the front?”
“He is my favorite, so I see him all the time. I like you on the front row, Uncle Trent, because Auntie Harper said you’d be the bestest dancer because you’ve got moves and you are my favorite Miami uncle.”
Trent looked over at Harper. “Moves?” he mouthed, even though his heart melted at being her favorite Miami uncle. It just made Harper laugh even harder.
It took three notes for him to realize what their little dance troupe was going to do.
“Fucking YMCA?” Trent said with a laugh as Petal swung her hips from left to right.
“Copy me,” she shouted, as she began to march up and down. Her arms periodically going up into the air and back down.
Fuck it. He might as well make a fool of himself. Everyone was on their feet. His wife was almost crying with laughter. Elliott shouted that Dred owed him a Gibson Citation guitar. Cujo was severely into it, with Drea cheering his name.
And shit. How long was the fucking verse? Surely there should have been a chorus by now.
Nik laughed as his boys joined in on the edge of the dance floor. Even Daniel was up dancing with Noah in his arms.
And then everyone burst into the actions.
And Petal laughed as she turned around and saw all the men who were important to her dancing in her troupe. Her curls swung as she jumped up and down making shapes that looked nothing like Y, M, C, or A.
But it didn’t matter, because people filtered onto the dance floor, and Harper and Travis were suddenly right next to him, making letter shapes in the air. Cujo swung Drea around as Lexi encouraged Jordan to keep dancing.
Reid kept putting his hands on Lia’s ass and Petal marched straight over to him and smacked his hands.
It was messy. It was loud.
It was fucking family and they were his heart.
“Are you okay?” Harper asked.
Trent nodded. “Yeah. I’m better than okay. Merry Christmas, Darlin’.”
Thank you!
Dear Readers,
I hope you loved reading The Sweetest Gift. And for those of you who tirelessly asked for a return to these two series, I hope it lived up to your expectations. If you have a minute to spare, I hope you’ll consider taking the time to leave a review at whichever retail platform you prefer.
Read on for the opening of Love In Numbers, my new contemporary romance series set in a Denver Gin Distillery. Hot men, smart women, and a barrel full of ice-cold gin.
Huge Hugs,
Scarlett
Love In Numbers
Emerson Dyer reached the door of her father’s office in their family-run gin distillery. She ran her fingertips across the brass plate with his name on it. He’d regaled her a thousand times with the story of how her mother had hung it when they’d first bought the place. “I miss you, Dad,” she murmured, before pushing the door open.
The office was still her father’s. His raincoat still hung on the back of the door. The Denver Broncos mug she’d got him for Father’s Day when she was fifteen sat on his desk. Her mind returned to those frantic moments of finding him on the floor two months earlier. Of screaming for her younger brother, Jake, who as master distiller had just started the next batch of Dyer’s Medallion gin for the day. She’d frantically dialed 911 and balanced her phone beneath her ear, while trying her best to deliver CPR to the man who had loved them so fiercely— who had been there for them ever since the accident happened fifteen years ago, when their mother had died a week after Emerson’s fifteenth birthday.
It hadn’t been enough.
The doctors had tried to reassure her there was nothing she could have done that would have saved him.
The Sweetest Gift Page 11
