Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Camden, are you ready to go to your birthday party?” I call out to my son.
“Par-tay!” he says, mimicking Sloane from earlier.
“Damn, he’s talking more and more each day,” Foster comments.
“He is, and he said it just like Sloane did earlier today. He’s really taken with her.”
“Kid’s got good taste,” he says. I whip my head around to look at him. “What? I might not be interested in her, but I’m not blind. To be honest, I’m shocked some asshole hasn’t snatched her up yet. Sloane is good people,” he comments.
“She is.” I nod, swallowing back the bite in my tone that wants to surface at the thought of Foster checking her out.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Cam, buddy, how old are you?” Landry asks my son as they approach us. Camden is smiling in his arms, his face red and sweaty from the sun and all the playing he did with his uncles.
“Swide.” Camden points behind us.
“Cam, say I’m two.” I hold up two fingers, and Landry helps him do the same.
“Two,” he repeats, then points back to the slides. “Swide.”
“No can do, kiddo. We have to go home for the party.”
“Swoan.” He nods like it’s his final choice, as if he has a say in the matter.
“That’s right, Sloane, Aunt Corie, Aunt Rowan, Aunt Bellamy, and Amanda will all be there, too.” That gets his attention, and I’m able to pull him away from his uncles and strap him back into his car seat so we can spend the rest of the day celebrating him with our family.
“That’s the coolest cake ever,” Landry says, staring down at the jersey-shaped cake with the number 2 and Team Camden written on it, just like the ones we’re all wearing. “Where did you find that?” he asks his wife.
“Oh, we didn’t. Sloane made them.”
“What?” I ask. “Sloane made the cake?”
“Both of them,” Rowan says again.
“There are two of them?” I ask, still processing that Sloane made the cake, and it’s damn good.
“Yes. She made a smaller one just for Cam. Look.” She moves to the other side of the kitchen and returns with a small white cake box. Sure enough, inside, there’s a tiny replica of the cake sitting on the counter.
“Damn,” I mutter. Not only am I impressed, but I feel a warmth in my chest knowing she would go through so much trouble for my son. That had to have taken her hours, and most of her time was spent with us this week, which means she stayed up late each night to make it happen.
“She’s so talented,” Rowan praises. “You should see some of the things she’s made each of us—well, Corie, Bellamy, and me.” Rowan blushes.
“Nope. Nope. Nope.” Landry throws his arm over his wife’s shoulder, pulls her into his chest, and kisses her temple. “He will not be seeing that,” Landry says, his eyes wide.
“Okay, now, I want to see,” Foster says.
“Not happening,” Knox, Landry, and Reid all chorus at the same time.
“What’s not happening?” Corie asks, walking into the room.
“Nothing, Corie girl,” Knox says, snaking his arm around her waist.
“Fess up, Beckett.” She smiles up at him.
“Oh, I was just telling them how talented Sloane is because they were complimenting the cake. I told them they should see what she made us.” Rowan grins.
“Oh, it’s this—” Corie starts, but Knox places his hand over her lips.
“I think this birthday boy is losing steam,” Sloane says, entering the room with Camden on her hip. He’s resting his head against her shoulder.
He’s already had time at the park. We came back and immediately opened gifts and took what feels like a million pictures, at the insistence of the ladies present—not that I minded. I want to have pictures to show him how loved he is when he’s old enough to really understand how many people are in his corner. “I can take him,” I tell her, moving to take him from her arms, but she turns to stop me. “He’s fine, Daddy. Carry on with whatever,” she says. She glances around and sees the cake. “Cam, buddy, do you want some cake?” she asks my son.
“Cake?” He lifts his head and surveys the room. “Daddy, cake.”
“Do you want some birthday cake?” I ask him as Bellamy and Amanda join us in the kitchen.
“Swoan, cake,” he says, placing his tiny hands on her cheeks to get her attention.
“Guess what?” she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “You have one just for you.”
“Cam.” He points at his chest, and she beams a proud smile at him.
“That’s right.” She grins.
“Come on, bud. Let’s get you set up in your chair for some cake.” Camden looks at Sloane almost as if he’s asking for permission. She kisses his cheek and hands him off to me. While I get him set up in his highchair, she grabs the smaller cake that’s just his and adds a number two candle, lighting it before carrying it our way.