KATY’S POV
SEVEN YEARS LATER
I adjust Veronica on my hip, taking a key holder from her tiny hand. She’s two, wearing a jersey that’s clearly meant for someone twice her size and every time she moves, the fabric swallows her whole.
Mason, on the other hand, is all energy and sticky fingers. He presses his wet palms against the glass, grinning and running around. I’ve reminded him a dozen times not to get his hands wet, not to smear fingerprints all over, but in all five years of his life, he’s only listened… maybe five times.
He’s a mini version of his dad, with that crooked smirk that shows up whenever he gets away with mischief.
“Is Daddy coming?” he pants, like he’s been skating around.
“Any second now,” Hudson says, smiling brightly. “Wipe your hands, Mason or you’ll get sick be
