Page 56 of The Invitation
Jason: Did you see the one where Blakely put Arlo in Renn’s old jersey?
Tate: Did I send you the one from last weekend when I was over there and caught him smiling at me?
Gannon: Ah, yeah. That was a good one.
Bianca: This isn’t funny, guys.
Bianca: I WANT TO SEE MY NEPHEW.
Renn: I sent you ten pictures yesterday. What the hell are you talking about, B?
Bianca: I wanted to ensure they weren’t getting pictures I wasn’t getting.
Tate: Aw, is someone getting homesick?
My smile stretches from ear to ear as I read the messages from my brothers and sister.
Bianca: I don’t want to be excluded from anything just because I’m not there.
Jason: That means you're homesick.
Bianca: Does it?
Renn: You know that holidays, birthday parties, kindergarten graduations, and rugby games will be much easier if you live here.
Tate: And late-night milkshake runs.
Renn: What?
Tate: That’s going to be our thing.
Renn: Whose?
Tate: Me and Arlo. I’ve decided.
I chuckle, scrolling to keep reading.
Renn: You better talk to his mother before you do that.
Jason: Our thing is going to be flying. He’s going to want his pilot’s license.
Renn: Chill. Out.
Jason: I can see it in his eyes. The kid was born for the sky.
Renn: You guys are stressing me out.
Bianca: CAN WE GET BACK TO ME, PLEASE?
Renn spams the chat with more baby pictures than most people take of their offspring.
I flip through the images, wondering if they ever let the kid go a minute without a camera in his face. I get it, though. Arlo is adorable. And, if I’m being honest, I do the same to Waffles.
When your baby’s cute, your baby’s cute.
“Knock, knock.”
The words correspond to the sound of knuckles against the door. I look up and find the Arrows GM, Lincoln Landry, standing in the doorway.
