“Yes, yes.” I jog across the street. “Two arms, two legs, red bow tie—I’m riveted.”

Eight months ago, Regan started talking more . . . and she hasn’t stopped since.

“And then we read Stone Soup and in the book, someone brought carrots, and someone brought cabbage, and someone . . .”

Ronan laughs as I run, jostling him around. A few minutes later we reach the church without a minute to spare. I set the kids down, straighten Ronan’s shirt, and retie the yellow silk bow on the back of Regan’s dress.

“You made it. I was afraid you’d be late.” Chelsea comes walking down the church steps—and she looks mind-blowingly fantastic. Her dress is a dark blue satin that looks amazing with her creamy skin. It’s snug in all the right places and falls just below the knee, with a deep V neckline that literally has my mouth watering. Her hair is down and curled and shimmers in the sun.

I run a hand through it as I pull her closer. “I’m never late. And you look amazing. That dress is hot.”

She reaches up to my ear. “You should see what I have on underneath it.”

“Oh, I plan to. Top of the to-do list.”

I lean down and kiss her deeply for several long moments.

“Cha-ching, cha-ching,” a smartass voice rings out. “All this kissing, I can just hear the therapy bills adding up.”

I frown at Rory, who just smirks back.

Chelsea rubs her lipstick off my lips with her thumb, and her engagement ring sparkles in the sun. A two-carat cushion-cut diamond, surrounded by baguettes, in a platinum setting with an antique feel. I gave it to her a few months ago, even got down on one knee. She was really enthusiastic with her yes.

These days Chelsea is finishing up her graduate degree in art history; she went back to taking classes this year. She even has a part-time job lined up when she’s done, at a small gallery, a branch of the Smithsonian.

She slides her hand into mine and nods her head toward Riley, who stands on the sidewalk with a tall, skinny, dark-haired kid in a clip-on tie. “Riley would like to introduce you to her date.” She drags me over.

“Jake,” Riley says with a smile. “This is Parker Elliot.”

The kid holds out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

I stare at his hand, then his eyes, my face hard and unforgiving. My gaze travels over him down to his shoes. I look back to his face—and shake my head with a disgusted sound.

Then I walk away.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, he’s like that with everyone,” I hear Riley say comfortingly.

Chelsea giggles beside me. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Good. The last thing I want the little prick thinking is that I’m nice.” Then I lean down and kiss her again—because she’s so goddamn pretty. And just because I can.

We walk midway up the stairs and I hold out my arms, gesturing for my party of seven—eight if you count fucking Parker—to gather around. “Let’s go, team—huddle up.” Their heads turn my way, their little faces attentive. I clear my throat. “This is a very special day for Stanton and Sofia and we want everything to go perfectly for them. So for the next forty-five minutes, I expect you to behave like ladies and gentlemen. That means no whispering, no pinching, no hair pulling, no teasing, no fighting, no giggling, no nose picking, no name calling, no crying . . .” I whisper to Chelsea, “Did I miss anything?”

“No looking at each other,” she whispers back.

“That’s right,” I say louder, “no looking at each other.”

That’s kind of a big one.

“Consequences will be swift and severe.”

“Severe” to them is a weekend without TV or Wi-Fi.

“Do we all understand?”

They nod. I smack my hands together. “All right, let’s head inside.”

Chelsea carries Ronan and leads the pack into the church, while I hang back and make sure no one gets left behind. Raymond brings up the rear. He’s staring at the bride’s limousine, which just pulled up, at the gorgeous bridesmaids who climb out.

One junior bridesmaid in particular.

“Presley looks great, doesn’t she?” he asks in a sighing voice while he watches the blond-haired, sunshiny thirteen-year-old hold up the back of Sofia’s dress as she gets out of the limo.

I’ll be damned.

“You know she’s older than you?” I ask him.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m gonna bide my time. Then, when I own my own multibillion-dollar software company, I’ll make my move.”

I smack him on the back and his glasses go crooked. “Sounds like a plan, Raymond.”

• • •

Stanton and Sofia’s wedding goes off without a hitch. Her dress is the perfect blend of sexy and stunning: ivory, beaded, and clinging with a teasing dip of cleavage that made Stanton stare. They both got choked up during the vows, and it was just damn good to see them both so happy.

The reception is an elegant, white-glove affair at the DC Ritz-Carlton. Stanton practically flew the entire town of Sunshine, Mississippi, in, and in addition to Sofia’s brothers and their families, she has a couple dozen relatives visiting from Brazil. Needless to say, it’s good food, good drinks, and really good people.

Rosaleen finds me by the bar, her hair curled into Shirley Temple ringlets, her blue eyes wide with excitement. “Jake! You didn’t say anything about my lip gloss! Riley let me use hers—isn’t it pretty?”

“You’re gorgeous, Gorgeous. As beautiful as your aunt.”