Page 43 of Family Like This

Wrapping my arm around Amelia’s back, I look at all my friends with their parents and family members. Joel’s parents are here, which is good to see. After the hell he went through at the beginning of the school year, I’m glad they’ve found a stronger relationship.

Mackenzie walks over with her dad, Rick. He lives down in Pennsylvania, but they’re still close.

“Miles,” he says, extending a hand. Even at six-foot-three, I have to look up a touch to meet his gaze.

“Mr. Montoya. It’s been a while. How are you?”

“It’s Rick. I think I’ve told you that a thousand times.” I grin at him and he shakes his head. Though Mackie got her athletic build from her mom, in every other way, she’s her father. “I’m doing well.” He wraps his arm around Mackie, who smiles like a kid on Christmas. “Thanks for taking care of my girl when I’m not around.”

“No problem. Well, besides Mackie always causing trouble,” I tease.

She sticks her tongue out at me. “Please, I’m the least trouble of this entire friend group.” Normally, I’d argue with that, but seeing as my arm is wrapped around my pregnant girlfriend, I’m not sure I can anymore. But then Mackie squeaks. “Oh my god.”

She steps forward, and I look over my shoulder, only to see Hyla running across the field toward us. An interesting turn of events, seeing as she told us she wouldn’t be able to make it. Trevor, especially, was bummed, but Trevor isn’t who Hyla is running to.

No, she’s running straight for Mackie, who is jogging toward her. They collide in a huge hug.

Mackie’s girlfriend Mari was supposed to come today but canceled at the last minute because of work stuff. Mackie was upset about that. Now, Hyla’s here squeezing the life out of Mackie after telling us she couldn’t come… so she could surprise us?

And Mackie says she’s not the source of drama. I feel like somehow we’ve lapped ourselves and now we’re back to the Aaron and Rae, friends-who-kiss, denying feelings type of drama but with Mackie and Hyla.

Whatever.I just want Macks to be happy, but I’m worried she doesn’t know what will bring her happiness at this point.

“Hy, what are you doing here?” Trev asks excitedly as Mackie and Hyla finally pull apart.

She bounces over and jumps into his arms. “I couldn’t miss this. I wanted to come, but I wasn’t sure how the flights would work out. Thankfully, I made it and snagged last-minute tickets.”

“Way better surprise visitor than last year,” Sarah says with a smile.

“Oh god. Don’t even joke,” her mom says, shaking her head.

“Well, now that Hyla’s here, I think it’s picture time,” Mackie’s mom says.

Though there are a handful of backdrops to pose in front of, being the baseball kids, we head over to the empty pitcher’s mound to get some shots.

We take a ton as a group, then take turns with different combinations of friends and parents.

Amelia snaps a few of me with my parents and then my sisters join in. The second we’re done, my mom whips out her phone and shoves Amelia onto the mound.

“Smile,” my mother instructs, but we’re both laughing at her forcefulness. Amelia steps over to me and we both smile. “Wrap your arm around her, act like you like her,” Ma teases.

I do one better and lean down and kiss Amelia on the cheek, rumbling in her ear, “I do like you. And I like how gorgeous you look in that dress.”

“Kiss her on the lips,” my mother calls. Amelia laughs and plays along with my mother’s directorial demands. “Now, both of you look at me and smile. Miles, put your hand on her stomach. My grandbaby’s first picture.”

“Still want to be my girlfriend after all this?” I ask through a picture-perfect smile.

“It’s sweet,” Amelia insists.

I glance down at her. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Jumping into my wild group of family and friends.”

She looks up at me. “They’re definitely wild. A little crazy. I’m grateful I get to be a part of it.”

Not thinking about the pictures anymore, I lean down and press a kiss to her lips, my hand still resting on her stomach. It isn’t until I hear hooting and whistling that I remember where we are and pull away.

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