Page 64 of A Newport Christmess

“Yes, you did. You said he didn’t come see us yet because he was with his new—”

Julie covered his mouth from behind and gave a forced laugh. “We’re still learning when to repeat Mommy and when not to.” She tipped his chin up and looked down at him. “Right now is one of the times not to repeat what Mommy said.”

Carson crossed his arms. “Why am I in trouble? You were the one who said it.”

Despite the color flooding Quinn’s cheeks, she laughed.

I took a step toward Quinn, ensuring I also wasn’t blocking Grams’s view, and put my arm around her shoulder in a gesture that felt more friendly than anything. “To answer your question, Carson, I definitely have a crush on her.” Not a prick of guilt followed the declaration.

Gavin and Carson glanced at each other, both curling up their lips in disgust, but Chloe looked up at us with doe eyes. “If you get married, can I be your flower girl, too?”

“Okay, time to say hello to Grandma.” Julie directed the kids toward where Grandma watched with a pleasant, somewhat vacant, expression.

I leaned in close to Quinn. “Sorry about that,” I whispered.

She smiled up at me. “It’s okay. At least we know what they’re all thinking.”

“How tall are you?” Carson reappeared at our side, obviously having little interest in being introduced to Grandma again. He put his hand at the top of his head and moved it toward her at an upward angle. “I’m only seven, and I’m almost up to your shoulder.”

Quinn laughed. “You are tall for a seven-year-old.”

“Carson, come here,” Julie hissed, pulling him back toward Grandma. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

My hand settled around Quinn’s waist, only so I could pull her closer to talk to her—or that was what I told myself. “I’m just going to give you a blanket apology now to cover the next hour or two.”

* * *

“Let me help you to the table, Grams.”

She allowed me to assist her to her feet, and her gaze met mine as she shuffled forward. “Well, aren’t you a handsome young man? What’s your name?”

“I’m Landon,” I answered for the fifth or sixth time since arriving.

“You look so much like my husband when he was young. He was a dreamboat.” She glanced around. “Have you seen him, by chance—my husband?”

My heart broke a little every time she asked for Grandpa. “Not today.”

She nodded, and I helped her into the seat next to Quinn, their backs facing the rest of the room. Before I pulled away, my hand unintentionally brushed against Quinn’s arm, and she smiled up at me.

“And who are you?” Grams asked, her eyes bright when they fell on Quinn.

“I’m Quinn.” She said it like it was the first time Grams had asked her.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Quinn laughed. “I thought we could build a gingerbread house together. I heard you enjoy decorating gingerbread?”

Grams’s head shifted from side to side, taking in all the decorations set out. “I do?”

“Not only do you decorate them, but I also heard you are remarkably talented at it.” She held out a frosting bag, and Grams wrapped her hand around it, looking a little hesitant. “Should we give it a go?” Quinn asked.

“Why not?”

Quinn laced an arm under Grams’s and then cupped her hands around the bag and over Grams’s hands. She squeezed the bag, and Grams gave an audible gasp of excitement when frosting made its appearance onto the brown surface.

“Well, look at that.” Grams smiled at Quinn.

“You did it.”