Several years later
Cleo, my oldest at five, gets a defiant tilt to her chin as she cocks her hip. One hand flips her long blonde hair. “My rosebush is best.”
“Yours was first, yes, so it’s bigger, but all the bushes are awesome,” I reply diplomatically.
“I guess. Mine was first, so I win.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
I bite back a grin as we head to the truck, where I pull out the new bush we bought in Austin at the same store where Nova’s mom got hers.
A few minutes later, two-year-old Lia wobbles down the steps of the house, then teeters, making me inhale a sharp breath. Standing in the flower bed, I let the shovel fall and dash up to grab her, setting her on my hip. I push the riot of curly dark hair out of her face. “Who let you out, sweet pea?”
She takes her thumb out of her mouth. “Me!” Then she glares down at her sister, a look of triumph on her face. “Mine!”
I huff out a laugh. I don’t know if she means I’m hers or her rosebush is the best. Maybe both. Born close to my birthday, she’s the most like me so far. Competitive—and a Star Wars fan. Granted I’ve shown her only the first one, but she’s the one who watched with wide eyes while Cleo said it was boring, then flounced off to play outside.
Their two yellow rosebushes are planted side by side in our landscaping, just like Nova’s and Sabine’s next door. My gaze goes to Nova’s house. We have some amazing memories there: that first Christmas, a big championship celebration after we won state, birthdays, and then our outdoor wedding in the side yard that connects the house with mine. It was a small affair with family and close friends under a white tent in the spring. She carried flowers from her mom’s garden and wore a stunning white V-neck wedding dress. Nova would never sell that house, and we’ve spent time on it during the off season, painting the outside and modernizing the kitchen. In fact, I think Lia was conceived the day we worked on the kitchen. One minute I’m putting up a backsplash, and the next, Nova is eyeing my muscles, then stripping out of her frayed shorts and Bobcats shirt.
“I be good,” Lia says, then squirms out of my arms and joins her sister. She peers down at the hole I dug, then looks up at me with bright-blue eyes. “What goes there?”
Cleo pokes her sister’s arm. “Don’t you remember? They put in a note. Let’s ask Daddy; he knows everything. Right, Daddy?”
The trust in her eyes, combined with Daddy, makes my heart swell.
I ruffle her hair. “That’s right. Mommy and I write a special note for you, about all the good things we want for you. Then we set the plant in and let the roots grow around it.”
“It’s for our glow,” Cleo tells her younger sister in a sage voice. “We all have it because we’re special.”
“Glow!” Lia announces and looks around the dirt. “Where is it?”
Cleo palm slaps her own face. “Gah, she’s stupid!”
“Not!” Lia says.
I bend down to Lia and tap her chest. “Your glow is right there in the center of your heart.”
“Special!” she says, then pouts. “No Oliver. I’m best!”
Cleo rolls her eyes. “He gets one too, silly. It’s his first birthday.” She frowns. “I wish we got presents for his birthday, but Mama said no.”
“Presents!” Lia calls out.
“Your present is you get to help set the bush in,” I say, and they squint at me with identical disdain.
I hear the front door open, and Nova steps out.
Wearing a red sundress with her hair framing her face, she gives me a rueful smile as she takes in my dirt-stained shirt and shorts.
I lift my hands. “I make a mess of this every time. I wasn’t made to work in gardens.”
She laughs. “You’ll need to change before we take pictures. Lois will be here in fifteen; then we’re heading to the Roadhouse to meet Skeeter and Sonia and who knows who all Lois invited to his birthday party.”
“Most of the town, I bet.” We’re doing a special thing tomorrow just for us since it’s Saturday and Sabine will be here.
My gaze goes to the birthday boy in her arms. With a crown of dark hair and dark-blue eyes, he takes my breath. Two girls and a son. I want more if Nova agrees, but so far she says three is the magic number.
He sees me and jumps for me as Nova sets him down. I meet him before he reaches the steps. Solid and big for his age (like me), he crawled at six months and walked at nine.
“You’ll get him dirty,” Nova chides as she joins us.
I grimace as I look down at him. “He isn’t wearing this, is he?” I already know the answer, but I love to rile her up.
“Yes,” Nova replies. “See the detail on the smocking on the collar? It’s got little balloons, and the blue color of the romper matches his eyes perfectly. I know it’s girlie, but smocked outfits are a southern thing.”
I don’t care what he wears, whether it’s girlie looking or not. He can play with Barbies or whatever he wants. I kiss his cheek, then hand him back to Nova.
She brushes at the dirt on his outfit/dress while I dart inside to change.
A few minutes later, we’re lined up around Oliver’s new rosebush. My hand is intertwined with Nova’s. She’s my love, my everything. She brought the sun—and stars—right to my soul. She brought me a family—not just our kids but the people in Blue Belle. We’ve collected four state championships since I’ve been here, and I’ve no plans to leave. Maybe someday, when our kids are bigger and the time is right. My football career here gives me joy, and when you have joy, why would you go and look for anything else?
Oliver stands between his sisters as they clasp his hands, rather tightly to keep him still. Sparky sits next to Dog while the cat I got Nova, Dimitri (because he’s Russian, and I got to name him), is on the end next to Cleo. He’s been her cat since day one and is never far from her.
“All right,” Lois says as she picks up the camera. “Let’s get this picture for the album!”
Before she can click, a white Honda pulls into the driveway, and Sabine jumps out of the car. She rushes up to us, straightening her red sundress to match Nova’s. “Wait for me, y’all.”
“You told me you couldn’t make it until tomorrow!” Nova says.
Nova asked Sabine if she wanted us to wait for the weekend so she could be in the photo, but she’d said no, that the picture must be taken on the actual birthday. Nova told her we’d do another one tomorrow, and we’d put them side by side.
Sabine smiles. “I tried to call you, but you never answered.”
“I have three kids. My phone’s probably still charging—on silent,” Nova admits.
Sabine shrugs. “I skipped my classes today. I emailed my professors and said it was my nephew’s birthday and I had to take one picture. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
I laugh. Right.
“Sabby!” Lia calls, and it’s chaos after that as she runs across the yard. Cleo chases her, determined to get to her aunt first. Oliver plops down in the dirt, then sticks a rose in his mouth.
Nova groans and pulls leaves and petals out of his mouth as Dog chases Dimitri—he does not like that cat and never will. Sparky raises an eyebrow at the show, then pounces on a lizard.
Nova picks up Oliver, gives him a kiss, and then motions to Sabine and the girls. “Get in here with us.”
We line up again, smiles on our faces. Lois clicks the photo, several of them, and years later when I look at them, at all of them, from Nova’s to Sabine’s to our children’s to Sabine’s children’s, I thank the stars for my glow.
