“There’s my cheeseburger!” Aiden rushed to the carrier before Shane could put it down and extracted the baby girl from the cushioning. She was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, chubby cheeks. Landon pushed away every thought in his head revolving around Kimber and his child—which was basically all of them.
“Cheeseburger?” Landon tickled the baby under the chin. Wide blue eyes found his and held. The edge of her lips pushed pudgy cheeks aside in an attempt at a smile, nearly breaking him in two. Landon’s head flooded with thoughts of Kimber, of their baby, despite doing his best to avoid them.
He took hold of the baby’s hand, her fingers clutching his. His eyes started to burn. This was what he’d walked away from. Like Shane’s and Crickitt’s child was half of each of them, Kimber carried a baby in her womb one part her, one part Landon. He imagined their son or daughter with flame-red hair and bright emerald eyes. Or dark blond hair and hazel eyes like his own. The thought had pain crushing his chest with two thousand pounds of pressure.
“Yeah, Blair Kathleen. BK, as in Burger King.” Aiden’s voice plucked him out of his morose thoughts. His brother sent Crickitt an approving nod as she shook her head at the silly nickname. Shane and Crickitt had named their daughter after Shane’s mother and Landon’s mother. Blair August. Kathleen Downey. It was an endearing tribute.
Crickitt shrugged. “My mom didn’t want her granddaughter named after her, anyway. She said one Chandra was plenty.”
“No kidding,” Shane grumbled, and she gave him a playful slap. He grabbed her up and kissed her. Landon’s heart gave another envious squeeze.
Aiden handed over their precious bundle, and the family of three wandered into the kitchen.
Over dinner—pizza for the kids and, since Sadie had admittedly ruined Mom’s recipe for lasagna, pizza for the adults, too—Landon stayed close to Shane and talked business.
Lifting a bottle of water to his lips, he chugged down half its contents, wetting his parched throat after the salt-laden dinner. The local pizza place was no Giordano’s, but pretty good. “So, Aid,” he said to his brother who sipped a bottle of beer, “how’s the Axle’s thing coming along?”
Aiden had made plans to buy five motorcycle shops last year from Axle Zoller, the former owner.
“Right on schedule,” Aiden said, keeping his eyes on the kids’ table. Sadie looked up from the cake, sparing a smile for her husband, and Landon could have sworn he saw Aiden blush. “ ’Scuse me,” he said, zooming over to his wife as if he’d been called.
“That went well,” Landon muttered to himself.
Shane lifted his own beer bottle and chuckled.
“What’s the best way to slip him some cash?” he asked his billionaire cousin.
Shane shook his head. “If there’d been a way to do that, I’d have done it already. You know that.”
He did. Aiden and Shane were close, and there was nothing his cousin wouldn’t do for any of them. “What about Sadie?”
“Not a prayer, man.” He pointed at the couple with his bottle. “Those two are a unit. And you don’t want a piece of that feisty blonde.” He’d meant it as a compliment, Landon could tell. Aiden, far from the henpecked husband, strolled over to where they were standing, Sadie wrapped around his waist.
“Sorry for the pizza.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get Mrs. Downey’s lasagna recipe right one of these years.”
Aiden mouthed the words No she won’t. Sadie caught him and tagged him in the arm. “It’s okay, beautiful,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “I didn’t marry you for your culinary abilities.”
“Yeah, he married me for my rad tree house skills.” She winked at Crickitt, who joined them, BK cradled against her chest asleep.
Aiden flushed—actually flushed—and smashed a kiss onto Sadie’s mouth, preventing her from saying more. Landon raised a brow. Shane looked equally confused, while Crickitt looked suspiciously in the know. Landon was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.
Lyon’s friends left and Dad took Evan and Lyon back home where they were staying the night. Landon had planned on sleeping here tonight. Angel, too, who was now helping Sadie clean up the remnants of the party.
Landon pulled down the last of the balloons and shoved them into a trash bag. “Want to get plowed?”
Aiden sent him a sideways glance. “Hell, yes. But I don’t have any scotch.”
“Brought my own.” Sadly, Landon had planned on getting tanked tonight. After the stress of losing Kimber and worrying about the baby—and the irritating call from Lissa—he had made a beeline for the liquor store. Macallan Limited Release was costly, and usually reserved for celebration, but what the hell?