Hawk Six Years Later Our children stand in line by height, leaning against one of the ranch fences for family photos. Eli poses tall and proud at five years old, his ebony hair a messy mane, despite all of the work his mama put into detangling his head.  Next is Tayanita, two years younger and a few inches shorter. Her tight black braids whip back and forth keeping time with her fidgeting. Last is Scott, a chubby one-year-old with fat cheeks and thick, straight black ebony locks, who excels at blowing kisses, making raspberry noises, and contagious belly laughs. Every time the photographer gets them lined up perfectly, Roxy and…

Lily Five Months Later Fifteen minutes into the first look, Turner eyeballs the photographer and says, “We’re done here.” “Wait,” the confused thirty-something man with brown hair and tortoiseshell glasses looks confused. “You have me booked for an hour.” Turner nods confidently. “Don’t worry. You’ll be paid for the full hour with a hefty tip, if you do me a favor.” “And what’s that?” the photographer asks, still looking flabbergasted. The grumpy cowboy pulls a wad of cash out of his back pocket, not even counting it, and hands it to the guy. “I want you to ensure nobody enters this tent until I come out. You hear me?” The…

Bijou Three Months Later My breath catches in my throat as I watch my handsome blond cowboy round the front of his 1970 Dodge Challenger Black Ghost, wearing his white Stetson, a polished pair of brown boots, dark wash Wranglers, and a dress shirt and black coat.  Opening my door, he offers me his hand with a boyish grin. “Are you ready?”  “I’ve been ready for more than five years, baby,” I reply, flashing an ear-to-ear smile.  Once I stand, he pauses, drinking me in until his azure eyes well with tears. “You’re breathtaking. I don’t know what I did to get this lucky, but I’m going to spend the…

Flynn Three Months Later Tita looks stunning in her periwinkle silk gown as her grandsons accompany the diminutive lady down the aisle. Her smile radiates warmth and joy, and she winks at me mouthing the name “Zorro.” It’s become our inside joke. I smile and wink back, trying not to look nervous. Staring down the long line of groomsmen, I nod at my foster brothers, absorbing the fact that this is really happening. I thought I’d be the last man standing when it came to bachelorhood. And I would have been if it wasn’t for my beautiful little señorita, Jasmine Estrada. But when it was all said and done, I…