We were getting married.
Finally.
Oh, we’d tried to get our schedules to match up more than once, but between my career and Zoe’s exploding fame, the date kept getting pushed out. But no more.
My ring would be on her finger for good.
And if I had my way, maybe another baby or three to round out our family. But I was willing to wait on the babies if I had to. But I was more than excited to hitch myself to Magic for all of eternity.
CHAPTER 2
Zoe
The air was different. Even before I surfaced, I knew we were home. The time between summer and fall in New York was a special kind of amazing. The apples were ripe and bursting on the trees, the bees were a steady hum, and the heavy perfume of flowers was almost overwhelming.
My mother made sure there was no shortage of flora at Happy Acres. Soon the sweet lilies would be replaced with spicy mums and burning leaves. The slim window between lush, heavy summer days and the harsh lake effect winters was where the orchard shone brightest.
A perfect snapshot that included the insane flurry of people descending on my family’s orchard for apples, cider, and the new adult cider added to the roster recently. Children running on the property, dazzled by the ladders, trees, and tractors never got old. Followed by tired parents—which I knew a thing or two about thanks to my own little family—who wanted to show them there was more to life than the electronics they were often hooked to.
And in the middle of it all were my brothers who were coming up with something new and different every year. Like the cider brewing and concert stage that got more impressive every time I stopped in for a visit.
Sometimes I felt as if I was missing it all.
My life with Ian was wild and exciting. Not only his career, but my own. We were bi-coastal due to the gallery showings, tours, and studio time for both of us. And our little boy was growing faster than either of us wanted to face up to.
Getting married was always the first thing put on the backburner. There was no reason for it, other than I was secure in who and what we were to one another. I didn’t need a ring to know he was devoted.
He showed me daily—and nightly. He was very inventive with the fancy air mattress we’d packed into the bus for the trek across the country.
Who knew fucking my fiancé under the stars would be so hot?
Then again, we’d both been too busy for more than an exhausted quickie in the middle of the night for months before that. This entire trip had been good for us.
And now I would soak up a week full of family fun ending with a wedding in the orchard. Couldn’t get much better than that.
I finally opened my eyes, finding an empty bus and a Polaroid photo taped to the rearview mirror. Bez and my aunt Laverne were hugging one another tight.
Ian’s scrawling handwriting said they were inside. They’d just left me here? I checked my phone and found a longer text.
PITA: I couldn’t wake you up. Besides, you looked like an angel, so I didn’t try too hard. Come inside the café. Laverne is sugaring up our son.
More like sugaring up my soon-to-be-husband.
I opened the door and slid out, grabbing the door as the world tilted. Nausea slicked through my belly and up into my chest in a flash of heartburn. I closed my eyes and blew out a slow breath.
Whoa. I wouldn’t miss road food for a while.
Some good home cooking—well, my aunt Laverne’s cooking—would set me back to rights. My mom held no love for the kitchen and her food was serviceable at best. Since all of us were out of her house, she cared more about her orchids than pretending to cook any longer.
I couldn’t blame her. I was much the same. I just happened to have a man in my life who lived for food enough that he’d learned to cook.
And when Ian got interested in a topic, it was an all in situation.
From love to food to music, his efforts were always on max. Lucky for me and Bez, they were 98% focused on us. Unless he was in the studio. It was pretty much the only place he sometimes lost time.
Since I was the same with my paints, I appreciated that side of him more than most. Elvis had taught us both to take a little more time out of our own heads, but there was no doubting our child carried our genes. He was already showing a penchant for the arts.
Instead of music or paints, he seemed more obsessed with building things. From blocks to Legos to magnets, he would spend hours creating intricate worlds before crashing through them with glee only to start all over again.
I loved him more than breath, more than my art, and certainly more than myself. I thought Ian had been insane to want to make a baby so soon after we’d found each other again, but our little family was everything.
And now I was home to make it a little more official. Happy Acres was exactly where I needed to be right now.
I slammed the door and crossed the gravel drive to the café. It had been a pretty bare bones operation the last time I had been here.
Simple butcher block counters, a limited menu, and a bakery case of food and simple sandwiches. Now it looked like Joanna Gaines had been by with her magical farmhouse wand.
The wall behind the counter was a chalkboard dream of lettering and sketchy drawings of owls. I frowned at the barn owl in prominence. My brother, Beckett, had sent me a few texts with the new logo for the hard cider part of the orchard, but it seemed as if he’d forgotten a few details.
“Z!”
I barely got in the door when I was enfolded in the sharp scent of pine and mint. The quick rush of nausea almost made me push my brother back, but it quickly settled and I shoved my nose into Hayes’ chest before looping my arms around his startlingly hard middle.
I tipped my head back. “Where’s the squish?”
Hayes shoved his glasses up his nose. “Justin put a gym in the Honeycrisp building.” He shrugged. “Helps my back.”
“Hmm.”
He cleared his throat and the adorable flush that raced up his neck made me grin. “Good to see you, Z.”
“Same, H. Where’s the rest of the idiots?”
He hooked his arm around my neck, drawing me farther into the café. “Orchard opening day has Beck all bitchy.” Quickly, he looked around.
I snickered. “Laverne is busy with the kiddo.”
He relaxed. “Not sure why she and Ma are so against swearing. Not like they haven’t lived on this orchard most of their natural born lives. Aunt Laverne used to swear with the best of them.”
“Exactly why I had a what you call spiritual rebirth.” Came the voice behind us followed by the crack of a menu against the back of Hayes’ head. “Heathens.”
My aunt Laverne had Bez on her hip.
“Want me to take him?”
She cuddled him closer and my traitorous kid put his head on her shoulder, looping his chubby arm around her neck.
I rolled my eyes. “Nice, kid.”
Elvis, aka Bez short for Beelzebub, was our wild little terror of a three-year-old. He was half Ian after all and his dad instigated more than half of the trouble he got into. I tugged at his truck pants that were hiked up to his knee. He was also outgrowing his clothes at an alarming rate and tended to enjoy being naked—also like his father.
“I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow. I haven’t finished cleaning out the barn yet.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”