Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22)

to scrape Tyler off the ceiling when we told him last night. He can’t wait to be a big brother.”
Tyler was their son from Rory’s previous marriage.
Damned if Kelsey didn’t squeeze Alex’s hand when she saw his eyes brimming with tears. Again! He couldn’t rein in his emotions for the life of him today. But this was such good news. Ember and Rory deserved to be happy.
“Congratulations,” he rasped as the room exploded into coos and ahhs and hearty back-slapping congrats.
But when Rory revealed the bouquet of yellow roses behind his back and laid them across Kelsey’s legs with a kindly, “Congratulations, skinny mama,” son of a bitch! Alex couldn’t get his eyeballs to cease and desist. Manfully, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Again!
A solid thump struck his biceps. Rory was grinning. He’d seen the near-tears, the ass. “Brought the new dad something, too,” he said as he handed over a fifth of something gold and expensive.
McCallum Estate Single Malt Whisky. “My God, this had to cost you an arm and a leg.”
Rory shrugged both shoulders. “Who cares? I’m celebrating my good news, as much as yours. Isn’t every day a man gets to bring his child into the world. My turn’s next. Best two reasons to celebrate I know.”
Alex broke the seal on that bottle, and magically, a raft of red plastic cups appeared out of nowhere. Everyone but Ember and Kelsey got a sip, but he served Rory two fingers.
Renner Graves had a twinkle in his eye when he raised his cup. “To your wee little one,” he said in the thickest Irish brogue Alex had heard in a while. “May Bradley Patrick Stewart be surrounded by sunbeams to warm him every day of his long, illustrious life. We already know he’s got a big badassed guardian angel to protect him, so...” Renner raised his cup and offered the Gaelic toast for health and wealth, “Sláinte is táinte.”
“Cheers!” Zack roared like a beast. “When are you two having a baby?”
The twinkle in Renner’s eye turned into a devilish spark. “We’re working on it,” he murmured as he turned to Tara and placed a kiss in her hair.
“May the moon brighten all of his night times,” Eric Reynolds chimed in quietly, “and God bless all the places he’ll wander.”
“And may God please bless him to be more like his sweet mother than his ornery dad,” Hunter growled. “Congrats, Boss. You too, Ember and Rory. When are you due?”
“September eighteenth,” Ember declared, her eyes as bright as crystal emeralds. She looked downright radiant. She glowed, standing there with both hands cupping her belly, which was more apparent now. Yet still so much smaller than Kelsey’s had been. Alex hoped that was only because this was Ember’s first, while Kelsey had carried four babies to term.
He had to give Ember credit for not allowing multiple miscarriages to stop her. Kelsey had been depressed when they hadn’t been able to get pregnant at first, but miscarrying would’ve been so much harder. He raised a plastic cup, his heart full for honorable, hard-working mothers and fathers everywhere, then waited until the room quieted.
“A thousand lullabies to you both,” he said, his heart so damned full, it hurt to breathe. “And more butterfly kisses than you’ll ever be able to count.”
“Awww,” Ember cried as she wrapped him into one of her signature hugs. “I remember,” she whispered. “You’re thinking of Abby. Love you, Boss.”
“Yeah, well…” He endured the affection and wiped his eyes for the last damned time.
“Here, here,” Kelsey murmured sleepily.
“Time to go, people,” Libby Houston said as she leaned into Kelsey and carefully hugged her and the baby still hidden beneath the covers. “Why don’t we let this new family get some rest. I’ll bring Lexie by later.”
“Aww,” Beau groused. “Don’t we even get to see him?”
Alex shook his head. Damned if Beau didn’t act like a spoiled kid sometimes. Which made sense. He’d had, by far, the most screwed-up childhood of everyone in the room. Maybe his baby sister was here today, too, looking down on him from heaven. AJ, that was her name. AJ for Almond Joy. Her drug addict parents had named her after a candy bar, then killed her with neglect and their screwed-up drug addict lives, when she was just a baby.
“Of course you get to meet him, sweetheart,” Kelsey replied as she reached under her blanket. And pop! That strong little guy’s lips let go. “Would you like to hold Bradley?”
“Err, ahh, me?” Beau stuttered. “You’d let me hold him? Err, now? But he’s only an hour old and—”
“Then don’t drop him,” Alex grumbled.
“Yes, Beau. Here he is,” Kelsey said as she handed Bradley over to the man who’d once been beaten, burned, and abused by the son of a bitch who’d kidnapped him from his real family, then threw him away the day AJ died. Beau hadn’t even been seven years old.
Alex watched the transformation take place as the big tough guy beside him gently cupped Bradley’s head and butt, then lay him lengthwise on his muscled forearm. Beau’s thick neck worked extra hard. He blinked and pinched his lips. There was unbridled adoration in his dark brown eyes, that yes, oh yes, were brimming with big sloppy tears he didn’t mind everyone seeing.
“He’s so tiny,” he breathed.
Alex put a palm in the center of Beau’s broad back. “What are you talking about? He’s damned near big enough to play tackle football.”
The guys in the room laughed. The women were still cooing over Kelsey and Ember.
There was a day Alex had wanted to fire this gentle giant. Back then, Beau’d been as rough as a cob and pissed at the world. He’d fight at the drop of a hat, and he’d threatened to quit more times than Alex had fingers to count on. But little by little and layer by stinking layer, Beau’s ugly childhood had been revealed. Damned if Alex didn’t find a big kid worth saving and a heart of gold