Southern Devotion (Southern Heart 4)

“Yeah, thanks, man. We’re heading to the hospital too, so we’ll wait on y’all and take the kids home with us.”

“Sounds like a plan. We need to bring anything from the house?” I ask him, looking around.

“Just the diaper bag. They both have clothes and toys here.”

“Got it. See you soon.” Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I go in search of the diaper bag. Opening it up, I see there are four diapers. I don’t know much about babies—well, he’s a toddler now—but I’m guessing four is not going to be enough. Grabbing the bag, I head to his room, where Olivia is just slipping his shorts back over his legs. I tell her about the call with Aaron, and she points to the huge stack of diapers underneath the table Walker is lying on. I grab two handfuls and place them in the bag. Never can be too prepared, at least that’s my thought.

“You have enough there?” Olivia laughs.

“Hey, this is important stuff,” I tell her. “When we have kids, we’re just going to keep a pack of these in our cars. Just in case.”

Her laugh grows louder. “That’s not necessary.”

I point to my chest. “Boy Scout.”

“What’s so funny?” Lex asks from the doorway.

“Nothing, sweetie. You’re going to spend the night with Uncle Aaron and Aunt Whitney. Is there anything you want to take with you?”

“Yay!” She runs off to her room and comes back with a small purple blanket. “That one.” She points toward the crib where a blue one just like it sits crumpled on the mattress. “He sleeps with his too.”

Walking over, I grab the blanket, intending to shove it in the diaper bag as well, but Walker grunts and reaches for it, so I hand it over instead. We get the kids loaded into my truck in their car seats, and I head toward McDonald’s. Lexi chatters in the back seat to Walker, and he babbles right back to her as if they’re having a real conversation. Who knows, maybe they are.

Reaching over the console, I hold my hand open, palm up, and Liv places hers in mine. “This will be our life in a few years,” I tell her.

“Yeah? Two by then, you think?” She chuckles.

“Maybe. Who knows. We could have twins too.”

“Hey.” She pretends to be offended. “One at a time, mister.”

I shrug, not taking my eyes off the road. “Can’t help it if my boys are good swimmers.”

“I’m a good swimmer,” Lexi says from the back seat. “My daddy taught me. Do you have boys, Uncle David? How come I never met them before?” she asks.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, and Olivia looks horrified. “I was just teasing about my friends.” I glance in the rearview mirror at Lex.

“Oh, my daddy is your friend, right? And Uncle Aaron, and Uncle Mike. I’ve seen them swim before. They are good swimmers,” she informs us.

Chancing a quick look at Olivia, I see her shoulders shaking in silent laughter, as are mine. “From the mouth of babes,” I whisper, and she squeezes my hand tightly in hers.

This right here is what I want for us. I can’t wait to put my plan in motion.

I have to admit, girls’ nights are not what they used to be. We used to meet up at my family’s bar, have a few drinks, and then the guys would drive us home. Once McKinley was pregnant with Walker, we moved them to one of our houses, but there was still alcohol.

“Can I have my turn now?” I’m fully aware that I’m whining, but baby Beau has been snuggled by everyone but me, and my sister-in-law is the current baby hog.

Everyone laughs. “I guess,” Jamie says, like I’m a huge inconvenience to her.

“Finally!” I walk to where she’s sitting in the recliner and carefully accept baby Beau into my arms. “Look at you,” I coo down at him. “You’re just the cutest little man.” Yeah, I know he doesn’t understand me, but I can’t resist.

“Y’all need anything from the kitchen?” McKinley asks. She’s moving around great for a woman who just gave birth to this little guy a little over three weeks ago.

“Do you mind grabbing me a water?” Whitney asks. She’s posted on the love seat, her feet propped up on the table, her hands on her baby belly.

“Olivia, Jamie, either of you ready for that glass of wine?” Her voice is wistful, as if she’s living through us. She’s nursing, so no alcohol for her. McKinley refuses the pump-and-dump method. She’s strict as can be when it comes to her babies. Not that I blame her; I’d be the same way.

“I’m good right now, thanks,” I say, not taking my eyes off the sleeping baby in my arms.