Page 37 of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend (Catching Feelings #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

SEAN

I fell asleep wishing I could open up to Kayla, and I woke up to her in my arms.

It should have been the perfect opportunity to finally say everything on my mind, but I couldn’t.

Because of her freaking brother.

“Hey, Sean?” he called through the door. “Can I use your shampoo?”

“Use whatever you want, man!” I called out, relieved when she nestled further into my arms instead of retreating.

But Wes knocked again ten seconds later.

“And the soap?”

“He said use whatever you want!” Kayla yelled.

“Where is the soap?”

“IN THE SHOWER,” Kayla yelled.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“You’re looking for soap. Where else would it be?”

He snickered, and that made me want to punch him, but Kayla was already flying out of bed and tearing the door open.

“Wes, what are you doing? You’re a grown man. You really can’t find the soap and shampoo? It’s a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment.”

Wes grinned. “Hey, I don’t get to be the annoying little brother often. Had to make sure you two didn’t get too comfortable.”

“I hate you.”

He stretched wide. “Nah. You love me, sis.”

We didn’t get in our morning run. In fact, Wes crashed our entire breakfast routine, including all of the kisses I steal while we’re waiting for food to cook or cool off (or when we accidentally burn it).

He even brushed his teeth in the bathroom with us.

I think I may hate Wes.

And now we’re driving to Tripp and Jane’s farm in Sugar Maple together. Wes has been much more tolerable on the drive, but only because he’s been on his phone the whole time.

When we get to the farmhouse, Wes jumps out first, leaving Kayla and me to catch up.

“Your brothers really are twerps,” I say as we walk up the porch hand-in-hand.

“Told you.”

I’ve been to Sugar Maple Farms a handful of times—Fall Festivals, strawberry picking, Food Truck Fridays—but never to the farmhouse itself.

Yet without having seen it before, I can tell it’s been renovated and modernized.

The porch has a freshly painted swing and hanging ferns, and the scent of flowers and new cedar shingles wafts on the hot breeze.

Inside, the walls are lined with reclaimed barn wood and bright family photos.

It’s a blend of old bones and new warmth, and it suits Jane and Tripp perfectly.

Inside, we walk down a long hallway. Kayla’s in a breezy navy sundress and strappy sandals, her waves loose.

I’m in a short-sleeved button-down and shorts, with shoes Kayla swears aren’t technically boat shoes—but I’m not convinced.

We look just coordinated enough to make people wonder if we planned it.

A glance down shows our steps fall in sync without even trying.

The kitchen is a gleaming mix of charm and function, and a giant island stretches through the center, cluttered with serving trays and Tupperware.

Kayla’s mom is helping Jane’s best friends take food from the kitchen outside to a covered patio, where cool misters are fighting the heat and humidity.

I stand just past the back door on the patio and watch as Kayla effortlessly joins in with her mom, and Jane, Ash, and their friends.

I almost forgot that this was once her grandparents’ house. She grew up coming here. Duke said she was his first crush.

Was she as comfortable here growing up as she looks now? Is any part of that easy smile now because of me? Because I’m letting her learn to live her life, not just perform it, as her dad said?

This generous, open smile is Kayla’s default.

Her factory setting. Mullet Ridge has squeezed some of the sunshine out of her, but she can’t not be warm.

And when Ash makes a joke, Kayla’s laugh is like the nearby bubble machine the kids are surrounding, sending bright spots of joy to everyone around her.

If we choose this marriage after a year, this is what I can expect. Holidays with her family. Loudness and laughter. My own family is so small—just me, my parents, and Patty. Yet he’s is in the same spot I’m in. His girlfriend is one of Jane’s best friends. They’re on a path to forever, too.

A year from now, my own brother could be here on this farm with me. To think that our tiny circle could expand to something like this …

My heart swells a little too big for my chest, sending emotion up to my eyes.

I blink back the wetness. I don’t hide from emotion, but tearing up at a baby shower may not be the right move in front of Kayla’s family.

I’d probably have to arm wrestle all three of her brothers at the same time to get my clout back.

I spot my friend, Rusty, talking to Tripp and Lawson near the back fence. Wes and the other brothers are kicking a soccer ball around like they’re still fifteen. Hunter took his shirt off, and Jolene is snapping at him to cover himself.

“There are children present! That’s no way to behave in public,” she says.

“Lottie spilled lemonade all over my shirt,” Hunter says. “It’s not like I can borrow one of Tripp’s. He’s built like a mountain.”

Tripp snorts. “It’s okay. I’ve got one that shrunk in the wash.”

He comes back a minute later with a branded McLadyPants luxury underwear T-shirt.

In hot pink.

Hunter’s eyes widen as he reads the fine print: “‘My Wife Rebranded McLadyPants and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt. And a Smoking Hot Wife Who Wears McLadyPants.’”

Everyone howls, but to his credit, Hunter puts it on eagerly. “See this, Jane? Looks like you and me are getting hitched!” he calls.

“Touch my wife, and I’ll tear your hand off, cuz,” Tripp says.

Hunter grins and wears the shirt like a medal.

And Kayla and her mom and Jane and her friends all laugh.

For a second, I just stand there and take it all in. The smell of cut grass and burgers. The buzz of family. The low hum of contentment that seems to rest on Kayla’s shoulders like sunlight.

It hits me harder than I expect.

I want this. I want this forever .

“There he is,” Lawson says, waving me over. I comply, taking the dozen steps over to where he and Rusty are standing near a fan. Lawson claps my shoulder when he sees me. “The man who put a smile on my baby girl’s face.”

“It’s only fair,” I say, “considering she’s put a smile on mine.”

Rusty shakes his head, but in a good way. He and I have been close since middle school. I’m a couple years older than he is, but Rusty’s an old soul. We were on the same hockey team when we were kids and he was going through some tough times. We’ve been friends ever since.

“After seeing you and your ex for so many years, it doesn’t surprise me that when you found the right thing, you jumped in with both feet.”

“When you know, you know,” I tell him. He nods.

“I knew the day I met Ash that there was something different about her. I’m not sayin’ it was love at first sight, but I couldn’t get her out of my head.” He chuckles. “She noticed me using an accommodations setting on my phone for my dyslexia and gave me a high five.”

“What?” Lawson asks, laughing.

“Yup,” Rusty says. “She said, ‘Oh, you have dyslexia. Cool. I have ADHD. Our brains are gonna be best friends.’”

The three of us all laugh.

“If that ain’t grounds for instant love, I don’t know what is,” Lawson says, just as Duke and Sonny take a platter of patties and hot dogs off the grill.

Then he glances at me and adds, “But I gotta say, Kayla breaking up with Aldridge because of what a certain bartending hockey player said to her? It comes mighty close.” He squeezes my shoulder affectionately.

I nod, humbled. “Thanks, Lawson.”

“Now that’s enough about love. It’s time for burgers, boys.”

The buffet tables are already surrounded by half the party.

Someone passes me a paper plate, and I make quick work filling it—burger, slaw, beans, sweet tea in a mason jar.

Kids dart between grown-ups with paper fans, and a playlist of ‘90s country croons from patio speakers. When I turn to find Kayla, she’s already at a long table under the shade, waving me over.

I take a seat directly across from her. Her family is all sitting close by, and every one of them is sneaking looks at her plate.

And I know immediately why.

Last night’s dinner was easy enough—salad and chicken—but this meal is all hands on.

Burgers, corn on the cob, and finger foods.

It’s Big Hank’s all over again, except it’s not just Kayla, me, and a cute little boy who needs encouraging.

It’s family and friends. It’s people she knows and people she’s never met before.

It’s hectic.

It’s also stressing her family way, way out.

They’re eyeing her plate like it’s liable to cause a breakdown.

I slide my foot across the ground and bump hers with mine. She looks up at me. I grab my buttered corn and gesture for her to do the same.

Her eyes tense for a split second, and she pauses. But then she picks up her cob, and it’s like we’re giving a mental countdown.

On three.

One …

Her brothers elbow each other in a show that isn’t as subtle as they think.

Two …

Her dad sits up straighter.

Three.

Kayla puts both hands on the cob and takes a bite.

And I hear her mom sob.

“Don’t you dare, Momma,” Kayla says, ducking her face behind her napkin. “There’s nothing to see here.”

“Of course, sweetie. It’s just dust,” Jolene says.

Next to me, Lawson mutters. “Just when I think I can’t like you more.”

I grin at my plate.

“Kay, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you eat actual food at a party since your eleventh birthday,” Hunter says.

There’s a series of thuds, and Hunter yelps. “Ow! What the heck, guys?”

“Are you an idiot?” Wes hisses. “The girl has butter dripping from her chin.”

“Be cool, bozo,” Gray adds.

Kayla’s cheeks are red, but she’s laughing, holding her corn in front of her face.

“I am being cool,” Hunter says. “This is cool. Seeing her actually eat. Remember how Aldridge said she was so ‘elegant’ for barely grazing on the vegetable platter at their engagement party?”

“Elegant is overrated,” Kayla says. She locks eyes on her brother and takes a huge bite. Then she chews with her mouth open, and her whole family laughs. “But you’re still a bozo.”

“Such a bozo,” Lawson says under his breath.

Jolene puts her arm around her daughter, and we all keep eating.

But it’s the glow on Kayla’s face that fills me up.

She looks so happy, so comfortable in her own skin.

Is there a chance that’s really because of me?

After lunch, we play baby shower games. Taste-testing melted candy bars in diapers isn’t my idea of a “game,” exactly, but Kayla’s brothers don’t get a single one wrong.

When we play a “pin the mullet on the baby” game, they don’t miss a beat, either.

And their “baby bottle ring toss” skills have even Duke—the top quarterback in the NFL—gaping.

Her brothers are definitely twerps, but their hand-eye coordination could make them rich.

Technically, I think it would be a pay cut, but still.

At the end of the shower, Jane insists on a Carville family photo.

Kayla’s parents pull me in before I can even object, before I can share a look with Kayla and make sure she’s okay with this.

She smiles when her mom nudges us together, looking more vulnerable than uncomfortable, like she knows this means something and hopes I’m okay with it.

I thread my fingers through hers, hoping she senses this is a promise, not a pose.

Everything about us—this—feels right.

Real.

After the photo, Kayla hugs everyone goodbye, even though the Mudflaps have a game in a couple of hours and her family’s all joining us for it.

But that’s who she is, when she’s allowed to be. She’s a hugger. She cares about people bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen.

On the way out to the car, Kayla slips her hand in mine. Such a simple, familiar gesture, but with no one watching, it always feels huge.

It feels like her choosing me, not because she has to, but because she wants to. Which makes me think maybe my worries last night were overblown.

“Thanks for being amazing today,” she says when we’re both in her car.

“I was just eye candy,” I tease. “You did all the heavy lifting.”

She snorts. “All I did was eat and play games. Hunter was right: it was the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at a party since before I had braces.”

I pull her hand up to my mouth and kiss it. “Exactly.”

We’re halfway to Mullet Ridge when she speaks again. “I like seeing you with my family.”

“I like being with them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say. “Except maybe Wes. That guy can take a hike.”

Her laugh is so throaty, I want to pull over and kiss her. She runs a finger over the back of my hand, tickling it. “I don’t know. Him sleeping on the couch isn’t the worst thing that ever happened.”

The sensation from her tickling my hand travels up my arm and through my body. It’s not like I forgot she and I don’t share a bed, but waking up with her was the most natural thing in the world.

I’m finally sharing a bed with my wife because of her twerp brother.

“Fine. Wes can stay.”

She laughs.

“Permanently.”