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)
As I’m walking out of the bedroom, Sloane and Camden are stepping out of his, and she laughs. “What?”
“The two of you match.”
I take in what my son is wearing, and she’s right. He, too, has on a pair of light-washed jeans and a button-up, but his is plaid with different colors of blue. “Great minds, I guess.” I smile at her. “Come on, bud.” I hold my hands out for him, but he turns his head and grips on to Sloane.
“I’m sorry.”
“What? Why on earth would you be sorry? I know he’s attached to you. You love him, and he loves you. There’s nothing to be upset about. I know he loves me, too. Right, Cam?”
“Cam wove Daddy,” he says. “Cam wove Swoan.”
“See.” I smirk. “What can I do?”
“The diaper bag is downstairs. I’m pretty sure there are plenty of diapers, wipes, and an extra outfit. We’ll need to make sure he has toys, some snacks, and a sippy cup. Mom and Dad will have milk for him. My dad drinks it like the two of you.”
“I’m on it.” I kiss his head, then do the same to hers, and bound down the stairs to get us ready to hit the road.
“Oh, my goodness, look how handsome,” Nancy, Sloane’s mom, says as we enter the kitchen. She walks up to Sloane, who’s carrying Camden—at his insistence—and offers him her hand. He shies away from her, turning his head.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “He’ll warm up to you.”
“Baker, it’s good to see you again,” she says, hugging me.
“You, too, Mrs. Peterson.”
She waves her hand in the air. “Nancy.”
“Welcome. Can we get you something to drink?” her dad, Carl, asks.
“Happy Birthday, sir. I’m good for now, thank you.”
“Cam, do you want some milk?” Sloane asks.
He nods his reply, still keeping a tight grip on her sweater. By the time I get the sippy cup out of the diaper bag, her dad has a gallon of milk ready to fill it up. “Thank you,” I tell him, then hand the cup to Nancy and nod toward Camden. She beams at me.
“Look at what I’ve got?” She shows him the cup, and he gives her a half grin. “This is for you.” He takes it from her and takes a full drink.
“Sloane tells us he’ll eat what we do, but I can make a mean grilled cheese,” Carl offers.
“Thank you, but he’ll eat just about anything. We’ll just make sure it’s in small enough pieces for him.”
“Well, we’re ready. Let’s make our plates,” Carl tells us.
“You can set the diaper bag in the living room.” Sloane nods to the couch that’s visible from the open-floor concept.
By the time I get back to the kitchen, I’m shocked to see Nancy cutting up some grilled chicken, adding some mashed potatoes and mac and cheese to a plate with Camden’s favorite cartoon character.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, my heart warming at the same time I realize this is where my girl's huge heart came from.
“We wanted him to feel welcome. I wasn’t sure you all would be with Sloane, but we’re glad you are.” Nancy smiles kindly. “Camden, look at this.” She holds up the matching fork and spoon, and that earns her a full-on grin as he reaches out for them. “Let’s get you set up at the table.”
“I’ll hold him,” I tell Sloane. “I didn’t think to bring the booster seat. All my friends keep one at their place for him, and so do my parents. Rookie mistake.”
“No need,” Carl says. “We got the little one a booster seat. It says ages two and up. He’s two, right?” he asks.
“He is. Thank you for that. That was very nice of you. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course, we did. We hope to be seeing more of this little guy,” Nancy says.
Sloane places Camden in his seat, which is between us, and he digs right into his food. He makes all kinds of noises and says, “Yummy, yummy,” when he tries the potatoes, and Sloane’s parents just ooh and ahh over him.
Dinner is easy, as if the five of us have been dining together for years. It was similar when my parents were in town, which is just one more reason I love this woman. She just fits. We fit, and I can’t imagine my life without her.
After dinner, Sloane and her mom give Camden Carl’s gifts to deliver, and he claps each time he does. I stopped at the liquor store on the way over and bought him a bottle of bourbon, which Sloane told me was his favorite. Sloane got him a new shop light to use when he’s working in the garage—his old one is on its last leg, Carl’s words, not mine—and Nancy got him some clothes, and they’re going to dinner next weekend with friends.