Check.
“Yoo-hoo! Lat-son!”
I look to my right and see Natalie wave as she comes over. When she makes it to us she flashes a perfect, white smile. “Sorry for interrupting, but I’ve been meaning to ask ... who are you requesting for Oliver’s teacher next year? It’s a toss-up between Littlejohn and Hunter for Max.”
She bats her eyelashes and I take in her denim capris, flowy tank, and cute wedges. Her brown hair is layered in a trendy cut, and she looks like she could be in her late thirties.
“I’ll let the school decide,” Latson responds. “He’s a little young to have a preference, I think.”
“But he’ll want to be with his friends.” She lets out a tittering laugh. “Max and Oliver are like two peas in a pod.”
They are? I glance at Latson and recognize the knowing gleam in his eye. He can tell she’s flirting. “He talks about a lot of kids,” he says. “I’m sure some of them are bound to be in his class.”
Natalie shrugs and moves closer. “It doesn’t hurt to be sure. I can submit the form to the office for you. It would only take a few seconds. I could also sign him up for t-ball with Max for the summer. We could carpool. What do you say?”
Latson gives me a wide-eyed look, as if saying, “Can you believe this?” A snicker gets caught in my throat, and I cover it with a fake cough.
He takes another drink of water, then leans in to give me a wet kiss on the cheek. “I’d better get back.” He looks at Natalie. “I think we’re all set, but thank you.”
His tone indicates he’s talking about more than class selection and sports. He winks at me then walks away, finishing his water as he goes. When the bottle is empty, he shoots it like a basketball at a nearby recycling container. It goes in.
Natalie turns to me, her shocked expression full of questions. “You know him?”
I give her a sweet smile. “Yes.”
The top of her ears turn pink. “Well, I … I … didn’t realize.” She stiffens her spine and holds out her hand. “Natalie Spencer, PTA president. You are?”
“Jen Elliott.” I shake her hand. “Girlfriend.”
She nods, then turns on her heel and walks away, struggling to keep a slow pace back to the other moms. I look at Erica and she laughs. “You should have seen her face when he kissed you. No amount of Botox could have hid that reaction.”
I shake my head. This is the last place I expected women to vie for Latson’s attention. Torque and the gym I understand. But an elementary school?
My thoughts are interrupted when the kids in front of us start to leave. Per my instructions, I round the front of our table and hold out a container of disinfecting wipes for them to take as they walk by. Behind me, Erica grabs another stack of plastic cups. “Ready to make some more slop?”
“Ready as ever,” I say.
By the end of the afternoon, the kids are tired, sticky, and sunburned. Oliver says goodbye to his teacher and his friends, and the three of us head to Latson’s car for my trip to the airport. Since I have to be there early to get through security, we decided to leave straight from the picnic. After shutting the car door, I turn around to look at O in the backseat. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes!” He grins. “I did so many flips in the bounce house I almost threw up!”
My face contorts. “Gross. That doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
He giggles. “Uncle Gunnar? Can Donovan spend the night? He wants to come over and his mom said maybe.”
“Not tonight, buddy,” Latson says as we leave the school. “After we take Jen to the airport we’re going to dinner, remember?”
“Oh, yeah!” Oliver looks excited. “We’re going to Medieval Times.”
“What’s Medieval Times?” I ask.
“It’s where you eat with your hands, and there are knights and horses. They have battles right in front of you.”
“That sounds much better than puking,” I say. “Make sure you take pictures and send them to me.”
“I will. Uncle Gunnar? Can I use your phone?”
Latson’s eyes find Oliver in the rearview mirror. “Sure, dude.” He looks at me. “You might get a bunch of blurry texts later.”
I smile. “I look forward to it.”
Latson pulls away from the school, and we discuss Oliver’s summer vacation plans. Along with more aquarium time, he’d like to visit the zoo, go swimming, see his buddies, and have more Nerf wars, for which he says he’ll need some sort of new gun.
“You have forty guns,” Latson says. “That’s enough.”
“You’re lying,” Oliver’s little voice accuses. “I have eighteen; I counted. You have more guitars than anything and you don’t even play with all of them.”
My eyes grow wide and swing to Latson. This is the most attitude I’ve ever heard from O. “I think you just got told by a second grader.”
He smirks. “He’s not a second grader yet.”
“Am, too,” Oliver interjects.
“We’ll see once I get your report card,” Latson says.
Their back and forth banter is sweet, and a pang of sadness hits. I’m going to miss this over the next few months. I’d love to take O to the zoo or to the beach. We never did get to the park to play in the fountains. Suddenly, I want more time. I stare out the window and swallow.
We pull into O’Hare International Airport, and Latson finds a parking space. Dean is supposed to meet us inside, along with Pete and Jules. I grab my guitar, swinging the case over my head and shoulder, and then my carry-on bag. Latson pulls my two suitcases from the trunk. I’m only working with what I brought to Chicago, so there wasn’t much to pack. As we make our way to the crosswalk to head to the terminal, Oliver decides he wants to help. Latson lets him drag one of my bags, and the sight is too freaking cute. Maybe I’m being overly sentimental, but I let the boys walk ahead of me so I can take a picture.
Once I get checked in, we walk to the security screening point. There, I find Dean, Jules, and Pete standing off to the side.
And, unexpectedly, Carter, Felix, and Gwen.
“You guys!” I say in surprise and hurry my steps. “What are you doing here?”
Carter opens his arms wide, and I step into them for a hug. “Little J. Do you think we’d let you leave without saying goodbye?”
“I said goodbye last night at work.” My voice is muffled against his chest.
“It’s not the same.” He holds me tight. “I forgot to tell you. If you need a bodyguard, let me know. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
Aww, I think. Before I can respond, he steps back and hands me off to Felix.
“Mi amor,” Felix says with a pout. He catches my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Como voy a vivir sin ti?”
I give him knowing look. “You’ve lived without me before. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
He grins. “Be careful out there.” He wraps me a quick hug before Gwen pushes him out of the way. She holds on to my shoulders and looks me squarely in the eye. “You must call or text me,” she demands. “I want all the details. I want pictures of roadies. I want pictures from the stage. Oh! I want pictures of you on stage.”
I laugh. “Okay, but only if you promise to take care of my boys.” My eyes jump from Carter to Felix, then to Latson and Oliver who are talking to Dean. “You don’t have to worry about Pete. Jules has that covered.”
“You’re damn right I do,” Jules says and walks over. “Don’t worry about us back here. Concentrate on you.” She leans into my side. “And, remember, if you need someone on the tambourine, my offer still stands.”
“Got it,” I say. “You guys will probably get sick of my daily updates. I’ve never met Paul or Drew, and I doubt Dean and I have much in common. I’ll need someone to talk to.”
“We’re here for you twenty-four, seven,” Jules says and Gwen nods. “Any hour of the day or night. Don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thanks.” Even though I assumed as much, it’s still reassuring to hear the words.
Jules’ eyes focus on something over my shoulder, and I turn around to see my brother. He doesn’t say anything; we’ve talked about this opportunity so many times over the last week there’s nothing left to discuss. Without words, I step up to him and we give each other an insane squeeze. “Love you,” he says against my hair.