Kenny and Slayde had beat us in with our little boy. Patrick had Lane up on his shoulders and was running around the living room as his son squealed and laughed. Sylvia chased them waving her hands and looking frantic.
“Patrick!” She cried. “You’re going to hit his head! Oh! You’re going to drop him!”
I rushed over to save her from a heart attack. “Give him to me.”
His daddy stopped, and Lane slid down complaining into my arms. Kenny emerged from the hall where we were staying. Slayde followed, hands in his pockets, hanging back.
“Do we just pick a room that’s empty?” She asked, and Lane kicked out of my arms. I put him down, and he scampered into hers.
“Mommy, Daddy a bronco!”
My eyes cut to Patrick’s, and his were dancing. Kenny didn’t miss a bit of it.
“I don’t even want to know how that got started.”
“That goes double for me!” Sylvia cried going to her. “Hand me my grandson.”
He went meekly into his grandmother’s arms, and I answered Kenny in the affirmative. Mariska stood behind the sofa where Patrick flopped, and the sounds of Stuart banging in the door interrupted everything.
“Shit!” Patrick jumped up. “I can help with that.”
His mother’s lips pursed, but I shook my head. “We thought you two could stay on the wing with us and Lane.”
“We’ll alternate who he sleeps with each night.”
“Right!” I nodded. “Mariska, you and Stuart can stay on that wing with Derek, Melissa, and Dex.”
Stuart stepped up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Sounds like a good setup. When are they getting in?”
“Thursday.”
“Even better.”
Mariska blushed, but I couldn’t resist. “That gives you two nights to have all the loud monkey sex you want.”
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“Lainey!” Mariska gasped, but I jumped forward catching her hand.
“Please. Sylvia’s thrilled you finally tamed her lost boy. The only thing missing is Amy.” The youngest member of the Knight clan was in Europe, but she’d made it known loud and clear she was pissed I was marrying her favorite brother without her being here. “Well, and my dad and older brothers...”
My impulsive optimism dimmed, but Patrick smoothed his hands over my waist. “They’ll be all right. We can reenact it for them.”
Spinning around, I kissed his cheek, giving him a tight squeeze for restoring my joy. Then I pulled Mariska up. “We have to get busy. I’ve made three pin boards of wedding ideas. I want the whole thing to be Western Boho, and if anyone can help me with that, it’s you!”
A quick glance back at Stuart was all she managed before the three of us were crammed around Bill’s iMac going through dresses.
“It’s going to be way too cold for these,” Kenny complained, examining the photos of light-rayon, assorted-color gypsy dresses. “They’re all spaghetti straps and thigh high.”
“Mine’s asymmetrical.” I pinched her leg, garnering a squeal.
“They’re really beautiful.” Mariska gave me a worried look. “Kenny’s right, though. It’s fourteen degrees outside.”
“We’ll just stay inside then, and Bill can make a huge fire in the hearth.”
“Whatever you want.” Kenny shrugged, leaning back and propping her black Doc Marten on my chair. “It’s your big day. What will the guys wear?”
“Cowboy boots and hats, of course, with jeans, button-downs or Henleys...”