Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
One afternoon, Cassie had asked if we’d come up with a real option, and we must have both been caught off guard, because we’d answered…truthfully. “We like Xander.”
She’d smiled, agreed it was a good strong name, and that was that. Later we wondered if we’d jinxed ourselves.
In every other aspect, we’d left room for fallout, knowing without speaking the sentiment aloud that the adoption wasn’t a done deal until the final paper work was signed and we could bring our son home. It had been vital to shield ourselves from heartbreak if the worst happened.
And it had.
Mid-December, two months before the baby was due, the paternal grandparents petitioned for adoption. A week later, their son joined the fight and asked for custody of the child. We could have fought, but as a lawyer, I was all too aware that it would have been an expensive, emotional mess and the odds were never going to be in our favor.
Heartbroken didn’t begin to cover it. We were both devastated. Aaron, in particular, was inconsolable. I’d never seen him so upset, and I had no intention of going through it again. No fucking thank you.
We closed the door to the nursery that day, and neither of us had opened it since.
That was four months ago.
Cassie’s baby was six weeks old now. His due date was February fourteenth…a Valentine baby. We didn’t know if he’d been born that day, but he might as well have been and it was a cruel twist of fate for Aaron in particular. He loved all things having to do with Valentine’s Day, and he’d fallen in love with the idea that this baby would be born on a day dedicated to love. Sappy, maybe, but also sweet.
February fourteenth had been a very somber day for us this year.
Our friends had rallied around us, though. Curt and Jack had invited us over on Valentine’s Day, along with Jay and Peter and their two kids, and Paul and Seth, who’d made the trip from London. It had been a lovely night with great people, good food, and diverting conversation. We’d laughed and smiled as if everything had been okay. But on the drive home, Aaron had burst into tears.
I’d love to claim that I’d been strong and offered comfort like a fucking hero, but I’d been equally wrecked. My throat had ached, and my eyes had stung with pent-up emotion. This was supposed to have been the second-best day of our lives after our wedding, and now…well, it had sucked.
We were doing better now. Much better.
Aaron still had heavy moments of silence, mourning something that never was. I supposed I did too. But we’d leaned on each other and slowly, we’d begun to heal.
We started seeing a family therapist regularly, and that helped also. She was the one who’d asked if we’d thought about adopting a pet. And yeah…we definitely had. We’d both grown up with animals, and we loved the idea of having a furry friend around. Our schedules were busy, though, and we traveled for our jobs. We figured we’d think more seriously about getting a dog or cat after we had kids.
“Maybe consider not waiting,” our therapist suggested gently. “I wouldn’t normally recommend taking a trip to an animal shelter or talking to a breeder, but in your case…it could be a matter of mixing up the order of your family plan and giving yourselves a new, positive focus. Of course, adopting a pet is a big decision too. An animal isn’t magically going to erase your pain. They’re a lot of work. They’re demanding, and they need your time and energy. Weigh the pros and cons, and think about it.”
We’d taken her advice and here we were, idling outside of Yearwood Kennel—“considering” adopting a puppy.
“Ready?”
Aaron rubbed his palms together and wiggled in his seat. “Yes! Let’s meet Lola BridgeLabrada or Marilyn MonLabrada or…maybe we should keep things easy and just name him Chris Pine. Thoughts?”
He was out of the car and halfway up the path before I had a chance to respond.
An apple-cheeked middle-aged woman with short ash-blond hair greeted us with a sunny smile. “The name’s Margo. Nice to meet you both. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours. Two more pups found their forever home, which leaves us with one left in the litter. He won’t be free for long, so I’m glad you stopped in to meet him. Come this way.”
Aaron nudged my elbow and mouthed, Chris Pine, then followed Margo outside to a small unit attached to the main building. She continued to a fenced-in grassy area where a docile Lab sat in the shade surrounded by five bouncing, yipping red furballs.
I was pretty sure I’d never seen anything cuter in my life. They were stubby and goofy with adorable ears, and a lot of personality. Margo explained that the litter was seven and a half weeks old. Three puppies had already been picked up, and the four with yellow stars on their ribboned collars were spoken for. Which left the smallest of the bunch…a chubby little fellow with curious eyebrows.