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Goldie leans into my side, her bare shoulder warm against my arm. "I'm telling you, the second she figures out how to pack a suitcase, she'll run away from home to live with him."

"She's not going anywhere," I tell her.

"He’s willing to walk her around the living room on his shoulders so she can smack the ceiling fan strings, Maverick. We've already lost her."

Colston puts on a smug smile and shrugs. "I’m just helping her reach her goals."

Goldie laughs. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer so my left hand rests on her bare hip. The cool metal of my wedding band presses against her warm skin, bringing that familiar, solid wave of satisfaction to my chest.

We got married four months ago. It was a small beach wedding that turned out to be more like a party at sunset with all of our friends and family. We’d hired a trusted sitter to stay with Frankie in a hotel room upstairs so the rest of us could let loose without worrying about it. We drank enough tequila that Pops ended up dancing on a table. Dad got the whole thing on video. Pops keeps cooking Dad’s favorite meals as bribes, but Dad refuses to delete it.

"Earth to Sumner." Goldie nudges my ribs. She pushes her oversized sunglasses up into her hair, grinning at me. "Stop spacing out. The birthday girl needs lunch before her nap."

She pulls me by the hand over to one of the tables. Colston is only a few steps behind us, dripping saltwater and having a highly involved conversation with my daughter.

He gasps. "No! And then what did the seagull say?" Colston asks her.

Frankie slaps a wet, sandy hand against his chest. "Ba-da-ba!"

"Exactly," Colston agrees, nodding solemnly. "Way out of line."

Pops spots us first. He stops messing with a stack of paper plates and peers past my shoulder. "Where’s my granddaughter?"

I hook a thumb back toward Colston. "He has her."

Pops scowls as Colston strolls under the shade of the pavilion with Frankie glued to his hip. "Again? I haven't held her since we unloaded the car."

"She’s obsessed," I tell him. “If you try to pry her away from him, there will be screaming.”

"I told you, she has a favorite," Dad says, flipping a burger on the grill without looking up.

Pops glares at the back of Colston's head. "I bought her a stuffed octopus the size of a loveseat. What does he have?"

"Goldfish," I tell him.

Dad shakes his head and wraps his arm around Pops. "You can't compete with the snacks, Mark. Let it go."

Goldie presses a kiss to Pops’s cheek as we walk past him. "Aww, Grandpa’s jealous."

"I’m not jealous," Pops mutters, crossing his arms. But the second Frankie lets out another squeal near the cooler, his head snaps right in her direction.

Dad catches me watching him and smirks. "He’s jealous."

"Hell, I’m jealous," I say, and they laugh.

I grab two cold bottles of water from the cooler, unscrew the cap on one, and hand it to Goldie. She takes it, sliding onto the bench at the end of the picnic table.

My eyes lock onto all that beautiful skin, and my trunks are suddenly not as loose as they were a second ago.

She catches me looking, pausing with the bottle halfway to her mouth. "Sumner. You've been looking at me like that all day."

I sit on the bench beside her, letting my hand rest lightly against her bare knee. "Like what?"

"Like you're trying to figure out how fast you can get me out of this bikini." She points her water bottle toward where Colston is bouncing our daughter on his knee. "The last time you gave me that exact look, we ended up with her."

"And?"

"And we're at a public park, Maverick. With our family."