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"Hey, sweetie," I gently coo when she bats her eyes.

A wail comes out of her.

"Aw. Don't cry," I say, pick her up, and check her diaper. It's full. "Let's get you changed."

I place her on the bed, swipe out her diaper, and put on her a fresh onesie with a big turkey on it. I tell her, "It's almost your first Thanksgiving."

She blinks at me, still adjusting to being awake.

I pick her up, hold her close to my chest, and meet Mama in the kitchen.

"There's my beautiful granddaughter," Mama gushes.

"Ready to go?" I ask

"Yep. Just got done." She picks up a big bowl covered in foil, and we leave the house.

The air smells like woodsmoke and grilled meat by the time we arrive. Jacob, Jagger, and his brothers man the grill. It's loaded with steaks and chicken. A half dozen picnic tables are around the fire pit. Torches and strings of lights circle them. Several long tables are pushed together, piled high with sides. Another table has desserts.

Paisley circles me like a shark as soon as she sees us coming over. "Can I hold Charlie?"

"No. I get to see my daughter first," Jagger says, leaving the grill and taking long strides toward us.

"I get her next," Paisley tells him.

Jagger takes Charlie from me. "Hey, peanut. How's my baby girl doing?"

She reaches for his finger like she always does and my heart warms again. He kisses her head and settles her on his hip, then his other hand settles on the small of my back. He leans down and kisses my cheek. "Hey, Mama." He winks.

Before I can reply, Isabella shrieks, "Charlie! Can I hold her?"

"I get her next," Paisley scolds.

"Give me some time with my daughter, please," Jagger sternly orders.

Isabella puffs her bottom lip out and runs off. Paisley slowly walks away.

Jagger softens his tone and plays with Charlie for a while. Isabella comes over four times before he finally hands her the baby.

Jacob announces, "Dinner is ready."

There's a rush to the food. It takes about ten minutes until plates are full and everyone's sitting.

Jagger doesn't leave my side, constantly touching me, like we've been together forever. From time to time, I catch Mama watching it all with an expression that's steadily softening throughout the evening, especially once Ruby pulls her into an animated conversation about canning tomatoes that runs clean through dessert.

Sebastian and Georgia sit at the far end of the table for a while, passing baby Knox back and forth between bites. Georgia catches my eye at one point and lifts her glass in a small, private toast that settles warm behind my ribs.

Emma circles the dessert table with her stick like she's guarding it from enemy forces, and Wilder and Ace stage an elaborate argument about whether pecan pie or pumpkin pie deserves the bigger slice. Jacob interjects that it's apple.

"You've gone quiet," Jagger murmurs at one point, leaning close enough that only I can hear him over the noise.

"Just taking it all in."

"Good or bad?"

"Good." I glance around the table.

Alexander argues cheerfully with Mason about football, Ruby refilling Mama's wine, and Charlie's currently being passed between Ava and Evelyn like the most precious cargo in Texas.