“Yeah,” Wes says quickly before Owen can slip in a line about Wes getting dessert elsewhere. We both know it’s coming.
“Scarlet!” Jackson stops running around the kitchen and gives me a hug. “Will you do the Baby Shark Challenge with me?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “But what is it?”
“What?” Wes’s hand flies to his chest as he fakes his shock. “You don’t know what Baby Shark is?”
“You’re lucky,” his mom says, raising her eyebrows. “It’ll get stuck in your head for days.”
“So it’s a song?” I ask.
“And a movie,” Jackson tells me.
“It’s more like a music video. For kids,” Wes says and shakes his head. “And you gave me crap for not seeing Titanic and here you are never having seen Baby Shark.”
I laugh, heart skipping a beat when I look into his eyes and see that smirk on his face. “You’ve had years to see it, mister. Baby Shark can’t be that old.”
He laughs before shrugging. “You got me there.” Motioning to the dining room, he puts his hand on Jackson’s head and tousles his hair. “And we’ll do one song after dessert. Then it’ll be time to go home and get ready for bed.”
“If you make me leave, I’m going to throw a fit,” he threatens. His face crumples and he tries to make himself cry but stops when Emma lets out a shriek.
“She’s all yours,” Dean says, handing the crying baby to Archer. “I think she pooped.”
“You’re welcome to change her diaper, Uncle Dean,” Archer tells him, laughing. I look around the kitchen as this cute-as-hell family and might start throwing a fit like Jackson when it comes time to leave too.
Though getting back to late-night TV with Wes sounds nice…
“I think it’s time to eat cake,” I say, dropping down to Jackson’s level. He beams and grabs my hand, hopping as he leads me into the dining room. I have another glass of wine and the best chocolate cake I’ve ever had in my entire life. Turns out Kara is a really good cook, which is probably one of the reasons Dean’s with her. Or at least that’s one theory I have.
“Scarlet,” Quinn starts, looking at me from across the table. “Would you guys want to go to the farmers’ market with us on Tuesday? It’s supposed to be nice out and we can walk from Wes’s place.”
“Sure,” I say, looking at Jackson, who nods excitedly. “I’ve never been to a farmers’ market. Are they like the ones in movies?”
“This one isn’t as big. Especially now that it’s fall. I need some mums for our porch.”
I don’t know what a mum is, but I smile and nod anyway.
“And there’s a local winery that sells the best sweet red wine and blueberry cider. Now that Emma is eating solid food I can half like an ounce of wine at night once she goes down.”
“You had me at sweet red wine.” I scrape the last bit of icing off my plate and wonder if it would look bad if I picked it up and licked it. This stuff is like crack. We stay for a bit longer after that, and I hang out with Jackson in the living room while Wes talks about the campaign with his dad and brothers.
It’s dark when we go to leave, and I stop short in the driveway.
“You okay?” Wes asks, unlocking his Jeep.
My head is turned up to the sky. “I’ve never seen this many stars before.” I exhale and my breath clouds around me. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Wes agrees, and I can feel his eyes on me. “Beautiful.”
“I could see them from my house, but not like this. It’s…it’s incredible. It makes me feel so…so…”
“Small?”
“No.” I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the heavens above. “Connected. It makes me feel so connected and grounded at the same time. It doesn’t make sense, I know.” I shake my head and shiver. I didn’t put my coat on, not thinking I’d need it for the quick walk from the house to the Jeep. “Forget it,” I say with a laugh. “It’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Wes steps close next to me. Jackson’s opening the back of the Jeep and climbing in. “When I was deployed, I’d look up at the sky and take comfort knowing I was under the same blanket of stars as the people I loved. The people I missed. So, I get what you mean about having it make you feel connected.”
I tip my head down, eyes meeting his. My lips part and another chill goes right through me. Ignoring the fact that I’m dumbly holding my coat in my hands, Weston takes off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders.
Dammit, Wes, stop being such a nice guy.
A nice guy who loves his son more than anything, has a family I wish could adopt me, and who may or may not be making me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling.