Page 18 of Passing Ships
I turn to my mom, who jumps to her feet and toward me, and catch her in my arms.
“Hey, Momma,” I say as I squeeze her small frame.
Nana is next to wrap me in a hug.
I watch over her shoulder as Amiya drops Leia, and the two of them fall onto their backs.
They lie in the grass, giggling.
Amiya’s feet are bare, and my gaze follows her long showgirl legs up to the hem of her tiny white sundress. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as she catches her breath. Eyes closed and lips tipped in a contented smile.
She’s as stunning as I remember. And my mind has replayed the memory of those legs wrapped around me many times over the last nine months.
Leia catches my eye, and she pops up instantly.
“Uncle Lennon,” she cries as she takes off running in my direction.
I kneel and open my arms.
“Hey, munchkin,” I murmur as she collides with my chest.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her lips to my cheek.
“I missed you,” she declares.
“I missed you too.”
“Mommy said you were going to be here for a really long time,” she notes.
“I am, and you and I are going to have a lot of fun while I’m here.”
She grins and squeezes me tighter.
“Come on. Let’s let Uncle Lennon finish helping Grandpa. You sit with Nana, and I’ll make you a plate,” Avie says as she takes Leia’s hand.
I stand, and she gives me a quick hug.
“It’s good to have you home. Thank you for coming so early. I know Sebastian is happy you’re here.”
“I am too.”
I release her and return to help Dad at the grill while Mom and Nana bring out dishes filled with baked beans, coleslaw, chili, deviled eggs, and Nana’s potato salad—my favorite.
Everyone grabs a paper plate and gets in line to pile it high.
I take a seat at the table beside Leia, who is dipping the hot dog her mother cut into small chunks into a pool of ketchup.
Amiya walks up with her dinner in hand and eyes the empty chair on the other side of me before turning on her heel and taking a seat on the ledge of the patio.
Oh, good grief.
I start to call out to her when Sebastian plops down beside me.
“I swear I could eat my weight in Mom’s baked beans and deviled eggs,” he says as he starts to shovel them into his mouth.
“I bet Avie wishes you wouldn’t,” I mumble.
Avie voices her agreement from across the table, and he grins at her around a mouthful.