“My mom’s here?” I look around.
“She’s outside with the hellions.” She laughs.
“Must you call them that?” I try to say sternly, but end up laughing as well. Because she isn’t wrong. She just gives me a knowing look.
“How was the show?” I ask, changing the subject. I place a K-cup into my Keurig and press start.
“So good. I can’t believe I walked for Versace, and in Milan!”
“I wish I could’ve been there.” Not wanting her to turn out like most of the teen models, I make it a point to accompany her everywhere she goes. Unfortunately, I couldn’t be in two places at once and couldn’t be there. But thankfully, Margie and Adam were both there and hovered over her like mama hens.
“I know,” she says, taking a bite of her food. “Oh! Did you see the shoot proofs for the upcoming line?”
“Umm…yeah.” I give her a duh look. “You were gorgeous,” I say, grabbing a mug from the cabinet, while inhaling the blessed scent of the coffee percolating. “Are you excited for your party?” I can’t believe she’s officially eighteen and in a couple months will be graduating from high school. While her modeling career had the potential to blow up, her father and I made the decision to keep her in school. We wanted her to stay young for as long as possible. We’re hoping she’ll make the decision to go to college, but she’s mentioned wanting to model fulltime once she graduates. I was hoping, on the other hand, she might want to come to work with me one day. Leblanc’s children’s and teen’s clothing lines took off, and because a lot of the designs came from Skyla, I had my attorney create a contract and trust for her, where she receives a percentage of all the profits the two lines bring in. We haven’t discussed it yet, but between her earnings through Leblanc and as a model, Skyla is already a very wealthy young woman.
“Yes,” she says, cutting me from my thoughts. “And today is doubly amazing because I have the best news!” she exclaims.
“What is it?”
“I want to tell you and Dad at the same time.” The corners of her mouth curl into a huge grin.
“Tell me first, and I’ll decide if he should know,” I joke. “The last time you said that, you introduced us to your college-aged boyfriend and your dad almost had a heart attack.”
Skyla giggles devilishly. “That was funny.”
“No, it really wasn’t,” I say, trying to hide my laughter at the memory of Jase growling and threatening the kid’s life when he walked through our door, covered in piercings and tattoos. Jase told him he looked like he belonged in an orange jumpsuit, and I about died laughing—especially since the kid looked so much like Jase, it was scary. Luckily, her relationship with that kid was short-lived, and a week later she moved on to someone closer to her age and with less metal in his face.
“Well, this news won’t give him a heart attack, I promise,” she says, standing and bringing her plate to the sink. I add some cream and sugar to my coffee while she rinses her dish, then we walk together outside to go find everyone.
When we step outside, I notice Angela, the party planner is here, giving orders. The tents are being set up just like I pictured, and the caterers are getting everything prepared. Skyla and I continue past the pool and jacuzzi, to the backyard.
I spot them before they see me, and I take a moment to watch the beautiful scene in front of me—my entire world. Jase is holding onto our two-year-old daughter’s hand, while she slides down the slide of the massive treehouse-slash-swing set Jase had custom designed and built, while he holds our other two-year-old daughter on his hip. My mom is waiting at the bottom of the slide and catches Melina when she reaches the bottom, dramatically dropping to the ground on her back and lifting her in the air.
Mariah laughs and claps the entire time, completely content to be in her daddy’s arms.
When Melina spots me, she squeals and wiggles to get down. My mom sets her onto her feet, and she immediately runs in my direction.
“Momma! Momma!” she yells. Setting my mug down on the table, I drop to my knees and pull my little hellion—as Skyla likes to call them—into my arms.
“Good morning, sweet girl,” I murmur, giving the top of her head a kiss. I inhale her sweet scent, a smell I will miss like crazy when she gets older and no longer smells like a baby. I know I have baby fever, but I can’t help it. Jase and I have been trying to conceive again for the last year with no such luck, and I’m starting to get worried it won’t happen.