Page 121 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

“Can you take the hamburger patties and hot dogs out to your father?” I ask. “The grill should be hot enough by now.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll go help him too,” Harrison says, grabbing the foil-covered tray from the fridge and balancing it in his hands.

“That would be lovely, sweetheart. Thank you.”

I’m not far behind with the fruit salad. When I get outside, I put it on the food table Mike set up on the deck earlier.

Marlow, Everly, Fallon, and Presley are seated at the patio table nearby with glasses of wine in hand, except for Marlow, who opted for sparkling water since she’s six months pregnant. It’s bittersweet since I have a feeling this will be my last grandbaby.

She and Dylan have already blessed me with four granddaughters, and another girl on the way. Their house is filled with brightly colored walls, hair accessories and ribbons, and the constant sound of giggles and chatter, and they couldn’t be happier.

A few years ago, they built a house on Harrison’s property, complete with a studio in the backyard for Marlow. She only does one gallery show a year now, but I still watch the girls once a week so she can enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of painting.

“Mom, we’re planning a girls’ trip to Vegas next month to celebrate the opening of Fallon’s new restaurant. Are you in?” Presley asks when she sees me.

I nod. “I’d like that, sweetheart, but who will watch the grandkids?”

Mike and I usually do it when our kids are away on business or vacation, and we always look forward to it.

“Our husbands,” Fallon adds, shooting a smirk at Harrison, who’s standing by the grill with Mike. “Apparently, they think the kids will behave better if they’re all in one place, so they’re bringing them all to Aspen Grove while we’re away. We’ll see how that goes.” She laughs, shaking her head.

“I heard that,” Harrison points out with a raised brow. “It’ll be fine. Olive’s an angel, so what could go wrong?”

Just then, the toddler in question dashes across the yard, giggling wildly, her unruly blonde curls bouncing as she runs. Her blue dress is covered in mud, and she’s clutching string cheese in her tiny hand.

“Daddy, the doggies are chasing me!” she squeals at Harrison.

Muffin, Jellybean, Cheez-It, and Biscuit, the puggle Marlow recently adopted, bark enthusiastically as they follow after her. Waffles brings up the rear, not as fast as he used to be but still as energic as ever.

Fallon stifles a laugh, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You were saying?” she asks Harrison.

He shakes his head with a sigh, heading down the deck stairs. “I’ll get her cleaned up.”

“Thanks, hotshot. Love you,” Fallon calls out.

“Love you too, trouble,” he says over his shoulder.

From themoment I found them arguing in my kitchen during Cash and Everly’s wedding reception, I knew there was history there. They just needed a little push to see what was right in front of them—second chance at love. Now, they have little Olive, who’s beautiful and smart like her mother and already has a love for being on the ice, like her dad.

On the other side of the yard, Teddy and Harry are in the middle of a game of tag with Cash and their cousins. Cash is “it,” and before he can catch up to anyone, the twins share a knowing glance, and spin around, taking him down in a surprise tackle.

“Man down,” the twins holler dramatically.

“Boys, will you please stop tormenting your father?” Everly shouts from the deck.

“Looks like Cash is getting a taste of his own medicine for all the roughhousing he put me through growing up,” Presley remarks, her voice full of satisfaction as she raises her wineglass to her lips.

“They do have their father’s energy, that’s for sure,” Everly chuckles.

She and Cash still live in London, with Everly working at Townstead International and Cash at Stafford Holdings. I doubt I’ll ever convince them to move back to the States. But now that the boys are older, they spend their summers and holidays in Aspen Grove. The boys are a handful, just like Cash and his brothers were when they were their age, and Mike and I love it when they come to visit.

Just then, Dylan comes out of the house with Lola hot on his heels.

“Dad, please say yes,” Lola begs. “It’s just a movie.”

When he turns around to face her, she tilts her head, giving him that pleading look that still works wonders.

Her honey-blonde hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and she’s wearing a faded band tee, ripped jeans, and white sneakers. While I love all my grandchildren equally, she holds a special place in my heart as the first one to call me grandma. It feels like just yesterday that she was a little girl wearing tutus and begging for her hair to be done in fishtail braids.

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