Nothing Crazy (Jennings Family #4)

Chapter 1

Mason

I accidentally mentioned to Jesse that Megan and I plan to start trying for a baby as soon as we get married in July.

That confession has landed us stranded at his and Ella’s house, babysitting their two girls while they’re off doing God knows what.

Cora’s two and a half, and she and I have read Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? thirty-six times. I’m not even exaggerating.

“Read again,” she demands, flipping the pages back to the beginning, her little pigtails bouncing with the force of her nod.

“How about a different book,” I say.

“No.” She crosses her arms with a determined pout. Lips pressed tight. Brows scrunched. Like she’s ready to go to war for this bear book.

I glance toward the kitchen. Megan’s trying not to laugh at me as she stands there watching Hallie, who’s almost one. The kid couldn’t care less about the mountain of toys scattered across the living room. No, her interest consists of yanking open the cabinet doors and then slamming them shut.

“Needa nack,” Cora says and slides off my lap toward the kitchen.

“A what?”

Megan snickers. “She needs a snack.”

We watch her pull open a lower cabinet door. “Cookies.” She points.

“No, not cookies. How about—”

“Yeah, cookies!” Cora screeches. It catches me off guard and Megan jumps, her eyebrows shooting up. Hallie starts crying and immediately crawls over to me, away from her sister who’s threatening to riot over some Oreos.

“Hey, hey,” Megan says, kneeling down to Cora’s level. Calm, gentle…that’s Megan. “Mommy said no cookies because it’s almost bedtime. How about these?” She pulls out a box of something else.

Meanwhile, I have no clue what Cora’s still arguing about because Hallie’s busy scream-crying directly into my ear. I take a slow lap around the living room, bouncing her like I know what I’m doing.

I stop by the window. “Look! Outside,” I say, like she’s gonna suddenly appreciate the view of her backyard. Nope. Louder cries.

I point to Jesse’s deer mount hung on the wall. “Look. Daddy’s big buck.”

She doesn’t let up, not even a breath. She flails her head back like the deer just insulted her.

I take a look back at the situation Megan got herself into. Cora’s got her little arms crossed, only a split second away from stomping her little foot. Megan’s still in front of her, her lips tucked like she’s trying not to laugh at the toddler’s attitude.

Hallie’s still wailing in my ear, so I trek across the house and up the stairs to her room, shushing her along the way. With every step, she quiets down, sniffling.

She stretches one chubby arm toward the crib. I snag the only stuffed animal inside—a long-eared pink bunny.

“This?” I hand the bunny to her.

She grabs it instantly, tucks it under her arm, and lays her head against it like the thing just saved her life. Her wet blue eyes blink up at me—Jesse’s eyes, through and through. And just like that, she’s not the screaming siren anymore. She’s got the sweetest little face staring back at me.

I hear a vehicle pull up and I go to the window to see it’s Cody’s black truck. I head out of the room and back down the stairs. Megan’s now standing at the counter, guarding Cora, who’s seated on the edge, eating something out of Megan’s hand. She’s calm now. No screaming and no tears.

“We settled on the Goldfish,” she tells me with a thankful expression.

“Good. Cody’s here,” I say as I continue toward the door, Hallie still in tow.

I open the front door and there’s Cody, a smug grin on his face, two-year-old Emma balanced on his hip. His wife Karissa is beside him, her very pregnant belly staring me down.

“Is there a reason we weren’t informed about the free babysitting tonight?” Cody asks as he heads up the porch steps, Karissa trailing behind him with a small bag in hand.

“Ha. Maybe because it wasn’t voluntary?” I offer, raising a brow.

“Right, right.” He nods like that checks out, then casually outstretches Emma toward me. “She already ate, but she hasn’t pooped yet, so…good luck.”

Before I can argue, he shifts all her weight into my one free arm, leaving me no choice but to take her.

“And you have to watch…she’s sneaky. She’ll take her diaper right off,” Karissa adds.

“Oh, perfect,” I mutter.

They leave and Megan and I look at each other, laughing.

* * *

A few hours later, Megan and I are back at my place, sunk into the couch in complete silence after surviving three kids under three.

Talk about an experience.

I drape my arm around her shoulders and pull her in, pressing a kiss to her hair. She melts against me with a tired little sigh.

“The good news is, we only want one to start, not three,” she says, her voice still soft from exhaustion.

I laugh quietly. “Yeah, but that was still brutal.”

“It was a lot,” she admits, smiling against my chest.

I tilt my head toward her. “You still wanna have one right away?”

She looks up at me, blue eyes bright despite how tired she is, and grins. “I do,” she says with a laugh that’s half delirious, half certain.

“Good,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “But if anyone asks, maybe don’t tell them that. They’ll try to sign us up for babysitting again.”

She laughs harder this time, and I kiss her—slow, easy. Moments like this remind me just how close July feels. Just a few more months until I get to marry her.

It’s crazy to think how fast everything’s gone. I proposed in November, and I still remember every second of that night.

I didn’t tell anyone in my family what I was doing. The only people who knew were her parents—because I’d asked for their blessing, of course. I knew if I said anything to mine, someone would try to talk me out of it, and I wasn’t hearing it. I was sure.

I’d picked her up after work; she was in yoga pants and an oversized sweater, her hair in a messy bun, makeup mostly gone after a long day teaching.

We grabbed dinner like usual and drove around afterward, talking about nothing and everything.

I tried to act normal but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When I pulled off near the field where we’d watched sunsets before, she didn’t think much of it. Until I told her to get out of the truck.

“Mason, what are we doing?” she asked twice, suspicious but smiling.

I didn’t answer. I just kissed her, heart pounding, and pulled the ring out of my pocket.

Her eyes went wide, tears already pooling as I dropped to one knee like I’d rehearsed a hundred times in my room.

“Megan,” I breathed, looking up at her through the blur of my own nerves. “Will you marry me?”

Her hands flew to her face, laughter and tears mixing in the same breath. “Are you serious?” she whispered.

I nodded, my heart thudding so hard it felt like it might burst. “Never been more sure of anything.”

She nodded fast, still crying, and when she said “yes,” it came out half laugh, half sob, like she didn’t even have control of her emotions anymore. I barely got the ring on her finger before she was kissing me, crying and laughing all at once.

That’s the thing about her. She’s steady when she needs to be, but when she feels something, she feels it all the way through.

Now, months later, she’s curled against me on my couch, her head tucked under my chin, both of us worn out from a day of chaos that somehow still felt like a glimpse of what’s ahead.

Her breathing’s slow and steady, her hand warm on my chest. I think about that night in the field—how sure I was of her then. And somehow, I’m even surer now. I kiss the top of her head and whisper that I love her just as she settles in closer, fitting right where she belongs.