Page 139 of Mom Ball

For the first time on a trip back from Atlanta, where I’ve been wrapping things up, I stopped somewhere besides Buc-ee’s. Although many claim that place has everything, they don’t have diamond rings.

I went to a jeweler downtown and picked out the most beautiful, shiny diamond I could find. The saleswoman wrapped it in a tiny box with a perfectly tied red ribbon on top.

It’s currently taking up residence on my dash. Every time I glance that way, I can’t wait to give it to Brooke.

I never intended to propose without a ring, but I couldn’t wait. Once I announced Timothy as my son, then my retirement, I continued with the confession vomit and proposed. Thankfully, it all worked out, since I didn’t want to waste another ten years—or ten minutes—without Brooke in my life forever.

The sign for the orchard comes into view, and I sit straighter in my seat. Gravel crunches under my truck as I pass my house and drive to Brooke’s.

A large balloon arch stretches over the entrance to their farm. The top of my truck scrapes the center. I wince as red circles bounce behind me in the road. I’ll have to answer to Morgan later.

I park behind the Millers’ bigger house, where cars line the drive going to Brooke’s carriage house. Morgan and Aniston stand beside a sign with “Congratulations, Gray Armadillos” in a happy font.

The ring box shines in the sunlight on my dash. I start to put it in my pocket, then decide it’s too bulky. I rip off the ribbon and dig out the ring. It fits nicely in the corner of my jeans pocket, making it easier to keep my surprise.

“That’s too close to the house,” Aniston says when I get out.

“It’s the only branch tall enough.” Morgan points to the tree beside them.

I step toward them. “What’s going on?”

Both women turn to me and sigh. Aniston holds high what looks an awful lot like a papier-mâché armadillo. I frown.

“It’s a piñata,” Morgan offers.

“Give it here.” I take the pathetic-looking creature and cross the yard.

Morgan and Aniston follow me in silence. Brooke’s brothers’ old basketball goal stands at the edge of the yard away from the cars. There’s no net and the pole is rusted, so nobody pays it much attention. I hold the end of the rope and toss the armadillo over the hoop, then secure the rope with a knot.

Morgan claps. I turn and smile. “You’re welcome. Where’s Brooke?”

Aniston laughs. “Getting the cake ready.”

“What’s so funny?”

Morgan and Aniston exchange a look. I head toward the kitchen, running into Timothy on the way.

“Daddy!” He leaps, and I catch him.

I never get tired of hearing him call me that.

“Hey, buddy.” I wrap him in a huge hug, then let him loose.

“You made it before the party.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Reece said he’s bringing stuff over to teach us all Quidditch.”

“Did he now?” I blink and make a mental note to offer up a kickball game instead. “Come with me a minute.”

We continue to the kitchen. Andrew dashes down the porch, slamming the screen door. I catch it on a bounce and go inside.

“Brooke?”

She turns and smiles widely. We meet halfway in the kitchen. I wrap her in a giant hug and give her a quick kiss since her mom and several kids are rambling in the house.

“How’s your day been?”

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