Page 7 of Crazy In Love
. . .
Bridger
“I likemy Fridays with my unc-ee,” Melody said, ice cream dripping down her chin. I leaned forward and wiped her face clean. I brought my niece to Sweet Scoops every Friday afternoon.
It was our thing.
She was four years old, and one of the greatest joys of my life. It had been that way since the day she was born. My cousin Archer was more like a brother, and when he became a dad, we all stepped up. Especially seeing as he was doing it on his own.
I was nervous at first about being around a baby, but Melody just sort of fit from the moment I met her, which was saying a lot because most people didn’t fit with me.
“Yeah? I like it, too.” I leaned back in the chair, crossing my feet at the ankles.
“And we’re going to go see the pumpkins before the patch closes?” She set her spoon down in the bowl and smiled up at me.
“If my girl wants to go to the pumpkin patch, that’s what we’ll do.”
Thanksgiving had come early this year, so the town had decided to keep the local pumpkin patch open until the end of the month.
“Daddy said I have too many pumpkins already,” she admitted, because the little angel didn’t have a sneaky bone in her body.
“I think Daddy will be fine with it. We can just go look and see what you think, plus they have the games that you like there.”
“I thought you don’t like games?” she asked.
“I don’t. But I love you, and you like games.”
“You think I’m going to like kindergarten?” Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she looked at me, completely changing the subject. She’d been talking about this lately, as she’d be starting big girl school next year.
“I think you’ll like it. You’re one of the smartest kids I know.” I winked at her.
“You know lots of kids, Unc-ee?”
I chuckled. “You and Beefcake. The two smartest kids around.”
Cutler, my nephew, went by the nickname “Beefcake.” He was a few years older than Melody. My sister, Emerson, had adopted him and married his father, Nash. He was probably the coolest kid I’d ever met, and he and Melody were both rock stars in my eyes.
She nodded in agreement. “Beefcake told me that I’ll make lots of friends at school. What if the kids don’t like me?”
“They’ll like you. You’re very likable,” I said. It was true.
“Do you got lots of friends?” She had the slightest twang to her speech, which made it sound like she was from the south.
“I’ve got enough. I don’t really have a need for a lot of friends.”
“I think you’re very nice, and you’re my best friend.” She moved from her chair to her feet, stepping right in front of me and holding her arms in the air for me to lift her onto my lap.
This fucking kid.
She owned me.
She was all sugar and sweetness.
Her hand landed on my cheek, and her lips turned up in the corners. She had two buns on top of her head, both lopsided and falling out. “And I like your furry face.”
I had to laugh. “I probably need a shave, huh?”
“I like you how you are, Unc-ee.”
